was soon home, quietly slipping into bed, trying not to disturb Dawn’s slumber. Consciously or unconsciously, her mind instructed her body to gradually push against mine, allowing us to form the perfect spooning position.
“Are you okay?” she whispered sleepily.
“I am now,” I said. “Night, you.”
“Night, you too.”
Chapter Two
A quick rule of thumb for everyone involved in a serious relationship: trouble is looming when your partner begins to introduce you as their insignificant other. They’ll say they were just joking and you need to lighten up but without a doubt, it’s one of the first fiery shots across your heart’s bow.
Trust me on this. I know things.
However, there are always exceptions to the rule, with Dawn being one of them.
The best part of our evolving courtship is we can pretty much say anything to the other knowing there’s never malice behind the words, even when the literal definition sounds mean spirited. Maybe it’s the age difference or my insecurity. I might overstep the boundaries of acceptable humour to make Dawn laugh, although it’s only because I know she’s smart enough to see how desperate this older man is to keep her around. Of course, that’s enduring and pathetic at the same time - two qualities often attributed to me by the fairer sex. Why she remains with me is one mystery I don’t intend to investigate. She could choose from a line-up of younger, wealthier and more debonair men than yours truly, yet every night she returns to my house. A real leave-with-the-one-that-brought-you type of girl, so far. This scenario suits me just fine. I could use some positive romantic energy after a lifetime of failed dalliances that included a marriage, one-night stands and long distance relationships. Then there was that short-lived engagement to a librarian, which ended when the female associate I was having an affair with was killed during a botched martial investigation.
Sucks to be with me, right?
Dawn entered my life after I threw myself a drunken pity party at the local Sunsetter Pub & Eatery where she works as a waitress. When it comes to women, I don’t have a type, per se. If I did, Dawn’s killer smile, curvy small build and curly brown hair that rests easily on her shoulders would surely be checked off a “Steve’s To Do” list.
We’re an unlikely pair. I’m by no means a curmudgeon when it comes to trying something new; still, I don’t go out of my way to find anything new to do either. For example, I have no issue with checking out a happening bar but only to drink, not to dance, karaoke or ride a mechanical bull for several nauseating seconds; three things Dawn loves to do. The same goes for house parties, no matter who is throwing it or what the reason. Mind you, working solo day in, day out, doesn’t give me the opportunity to mingle with many people, or become friends with them. Dawn is in the complete opposite situation and takes full advantage of it when the occasion arises.
Tonight’s social gathering invitation indicated a starting time of 8:00 p.m., which we figured was code for 10-10:30 p.m.
“It’ll be fun. You’ll meet a bunch of cool people,” Dawn said as she checked her hair in the hall mirror.
“Says you,” I said, pulling on my jacket. “The only person I’ll know there is you.”
“And Doug.”
“Really? Doug, The Sunsetter’s master short order cook? Why didn’t you mention that before?” I asked with a grin. “Maybe if we get bored, he can whip us up a burger or wings.”
Dawn zipped up the side of her knee-high boots and walked past me to the front door. “If we get bored, I can assure you Doug won’t be whipping you in any way. Me, on the other hand . . . ”
I turned and gently pushed her up against the wall to give her a kiss, which she generously returned. “Promise about that whipping part?”
“To clarify,” she began, looking up at me, “I was talking about the white fluffy stuff you put on dessert.”
“Yeah, sure. You. Me. Dessert topping. That’s what I was talking about too.”
“Uh-huh.”
***
It was 10:15 when we arrived at a very nice two storey house, set comfortably in a section of Darrien that the mid-1980’s yuppies had claimed for their own.
“Remind me again why this stockbroker invited us to his soirée?” I inquired as we walked up the driveway.
“I don’t know. During the week he’d come in for lunch with a few buddies, then one day he started coming in by himself. I thought it was odd, so I asked him about it and one thing led to another.”
“How exactly did one thing lead to another?”
“You know, this party invitation.”
“So, he wasn’t one of the lucky few you slept with before we became exclusive?”
“I like it when you show your jealous side, but sadly no,” Dawn replied with a warm smile. “I don’t think his wife would have gone for that.”
“One look at how cute you are and she might have changed her mind or even joined in. Did you think of that?”
“I suppose I could ask her tonight.”
“I suppose you could.”
The door was opened by a slim woman in her late forties, who exuded the confidence and charm I assumed she’d been trained to fake from an early age. “Hello, please come in. I’m Patricia Wallace.”
“Thank you. I’m Dawn and this is my insignificant other, Steve Cassidy.”
Our hostess glanced at me with a mildly shocked expression while extending her hand, which I took. “It’s very nice to meet both of you. Daniel has spoken about you often, Dawn. He’s a stickler for good service and thinks you’re one of the best waitresses he’s ever had.”
“We appreciate his business, especially after the firm let those brokers go last month,” Dawn said.
“These are tough times,” Mrs. Wallace replied shaking her head. “Actually, a few of those who were laid off are here tonight. You might recognize them, even without their business suits on.” She paused and took in Dawn’s smoking hot outfit and boots, before adding, “I’m sure they’ll recognize you in any case.”
Zing! Pow! Wham!
Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for the comic stylings of Patricia Wallace!
We hung our coats in the foyer closet and were escorted into the living room to be introduced to the assembled crowd, many of whom were already showing visible signs of motor skill impairment.
“Dawn and Steve, everyone. Everyone, Dawn and Steve.”
There was a smattering of slurred “Hello-Hey-Hi” greetings, possibly even some applause, before backs were again turned on us.
“With that taken care of, would you like me to open that for you, dear?” Mrs. Wallace
