Too hard
1236 Words
ORLANDO PHINEAS JR.
Weekends were particularly dreadful.
I always tried too hard to make them turn out differently but it was like learning to ride a bike without the training wheels; the harder you tried, the more you got disappointed.
The office made the weekdays eventful with the constant stream of work I had to perform but the weekends didn’t have such luxuries.
Bobby had joked on several occasions that my social life was nonexistent and even though he was right, I always won the argument when I pulled out the billionaire card. Being as rich as I was, keeping a social life was a huge liability. Billionaires attracted gold diggers just as effectively as honey attracted flies.
This weekend happened to be the most dreadful so far. It wasn’t like I could run off to Geneva to see Vela. I’d made sure that was never going to happen again after our last meeting. All I had now was Bobby; and the office.
There had been a period when I worked overtime in the office alone during weekends but Anna had stopped me fast after catching me a few times. She was rigid in her decision to make sure I didn’t overwork myself coming to the office when it wasn’t working hours.
I tried to think of ways I could spend all the free time I had but everything I could think about involved working. I could go to the gym and play golf after at the club but that was the most boring s**t in the world. Watching paint dry was more appealing.
What can I do?
I spent a good part of my morning trying to figure out the answer to that particular question and all I could think about was work.
There was only one thing to do.
“Bobby, I need your help.” I said when he picked up.
I hated that I had to call him to ask for help on this but the way I saw it, it was either that or working my brain cells to their limit trying to come up with an acceptable solution.
“Let me guess,” He said, sounding extra cocky. “You need help getting through your boring uneventful day?”
I cursed.
“Shut the f**k up!”
He was so on point. At what point had I become so predictable?
“Any idea?” I asked in a calm voice.
“A few.”
He tried too hard to sound nonchalant and failed. I could almost hear the amusement in his voice. He was loving this; every moment of it.
Fucking asshole!
“Go on. Don’t let me stop you now.”
“Have you thought about going out on a date?” He was mocking me. “And don’t you dare pull out the billionaire bullshit like you always do. We both know that’s the only excuse at your disposal.”
He’s right. I felt cornered. There was no way out of this one.
“Fine.” I sighed. “What do you have in mind?”
***
Georgie Wess.
I tried to remember her name. Most of the dates I went on turned sideways because I ended up calling them by the wrong name. Names blended in my head sometimes which was funny since numbers were easier on me.
The woman sitting across the table seemed to be a little bit nervous. I could tell by the way her legs swung rapidly under the table. Her face showed no sign of what I suspected.
“How do you know Bobby?” She asked twirling the drink in her glass for the 25th time.
I told her I’d known Bobby from college. He had been my roommate and at the time was one of the only person alive who didn’t give a f**k I was from a rich home. Sometimes I wonder if he was defective.
“Bobby and I go way back.” She said,
She went on to narrate everything Bobby had already told me about how they met before I agreed to fixing the date. I took my time watching her for signs of a red flag. So far I couldn’t find any.
Physically, she was okay. Her pleasant face and slender yet curvy body was just about right. She wore a dress that wasn’t too flashy yet it somehow managed to draw attention in a simple way.
She spoke well with a voice that was cool.
There was nothing off about her and if there was then I hadn’t seen it yet but I kept looking. The only thing I noticed was her legs swinging underneath.
That isn’t bad, is it? It’s perfectly normal to feel nervous on a first date…
Then I saw it when she moved her arm reaching for the purse she dropped on the table. She had a tattoo and I got a glimpse of the ink just above her shoulder. It was barely visible and I wouldn’t have seen it if it wasn’t for her movement.
“Is that a tattoo?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
She followed my eyes and saw it. “Oh yes. It’s a wing. I got it in college just when I was going through a phase.”
I nodded. I could understand college phases as well as the next guy. I’d gone through a phase myself in college that ended in my hair turning purple. I looked like a f*****g tunip.
Somewhere in my mind, I saw the tattoo as a red flag and maybe it was because I just needed to tick the boxes. I didn’t feel like a piece of s**t doing it even though I should.
“Are you nervous?”
Georgie smiled. “A bit. I haven’t done this in a long time.”
Same here.
“It doesn’t help that you’re ridiculously handsome.”
I chuckled. I wasn’t expecting that.
“You think I’m ridiculously handsome?”
“Me and every other woman who has seen your face.”
We laughed together. I noticed her legs stopped moving. She seemed to relax a bit and her body was no longer tense. I remembered the first question that had popped into my head when Bobby told me her name.
“Is your name really Georgie?”
She sighed. “Yeah. My dad wanted a boy. A george so when he got me, he went ahead with the name regardless.”
“Wow.” I blew a whistle.
“You think that’s weird. The old man took me hunting on weekends. He gave me a crew cut until I was fifteen.”
Wtf? Red flag alert!!! Reg f*****g flag alert!
“The wing tattoo is was my representation of soring away from his shadow.”
I didn’t know what to say so we just clinked glasses and cheered to freedom. Regardless of the phony red flags I had created in my head I had to admit the date had gone well.
“This was better than I thought it would.” Georgie said as I walked her back to her car.
“Right? I was just thinking the same thing.” She said grinning.
“How about we go back to your place? There’s no reason the night should end right now?”
I watched her closely, seeing the unmistakable glint in her eyes as she spoke those words.
- Writer
