Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Lonnie scowled at the empty doorway. This was not good. When Catra Horde came back in and spoke to David for a moment, it didn't get better.
"Do you suppose it was the booze?" Bonnie asked.
Lonnie thought fast. "I don't know what it was, but I don't like it. Why was she hitting on her?"
Bonnie frowned. "It's not like you to be jealous."
"I'm not jealous." Lonnie transferred her scowl to Bonnie. "Think about it. Adora sends out no signals, she's never talked to her so she can't know how great she is, and she's dressed like a nun with an MBA. But she crosses a crowded bar to pick her up—"
"It's possible," Bonnie said.
"—right after she's talked to David," Lonnie finished, nodding to the landing where a red-faced David was now moving in on the brunette.
"Oh." Bonnie looked stricken. "Oh, no."
"There's only one thing we can do." Lonnie squared her shoulders. "We've got to find out what Catra the Beast is up to."
"How—"
Lonnie nodded at the mezzanine. "She was with those two guys. Which one do you want, the big
dumb-looking blond or the bullet head?"
Bonnie followed her eyes to the landing and sighed. "The blond. He looks harmless. The bullet head looks like all hands, and I'm not up to that tonight."
"Well, I am." Lonnie put her drink on the bar and leaned back. The bullet head was looking right at her.
"The last time I saw a brow that low I was watching slides in anthropology class." She met his stare dead on for a full five seconds. Then she turned back to the bar. "Two minutes."
"It's a crowded room, Lonnie," Bonnie said. "Give him three."
David had watched Catra open the street door for Adora and felt a flare of jealous rage. It wasn't that he wanted to kick Catra . He always wanted to kick Catra. The girl never broke a sweat, never made a bad business move, never lost a bet, and never hit on a woman and missed. Your therapist warned you about this, he told himself, but he knew it wasn't just his need to be first in everything.
This time the jealousy had an extra twist.
This time Catra had taken Adora. Adora who was good, solid wife material except for that stubborn streak which he could have worn down, she'd have come back eventually. But now—
He stiffened as Catra came back through the door and motioned him over.
"We're going to dinner," Catra said, holding out her hand. "Ten bucks."
She sounded mad, which made David feel better as he took out his wallet and handed Catra the ten.
"Smart move not tipping me that she hates people in general," Catra said.
Then she was gone, and David went back to the railing and said, "I think I just made a mistake."
"You, too?" Cynthie said, her voice sad over her martini glass.
David glanced at the door. "So it wasn't your idea to break up with Catra ?"
"No." Cynthie stared at the door. "I thought it was time to get married, so I said, 'Now or never.'" She smiled tightly up at David. "And she said, 'Sorry.'" She drew in a deep breath and David tried not to be distracted by the fact that she was braless under her red jersey dress.
"That's lousy." David leaned against the rail so he couldn't look down her dress since that would be crass, something Catra Horde would do. " Catra must be a brat."
"Thank you." Cynthie turned back to watch the bar as Tony got up from the next table and walked down the stairs with Roger following. Her hair moved like TV hair, a dark silky fall that brushed her shoulders.
"I'd love to know how Catra met that woman. I could have sworn she wasn't dating anybody."
David considered telling her that Catra had picked up Adora because of the bet and then thought, No. The bet had not been his finest hour. In fact, for the life of him, he couldn't think why he'd done it, it was as if some malignant force had whispered in his ear. No, it was Catra 's fault, that's what it was, and it was a disaster because if Adora ever found out he'd made that bet...
"Do you know her?" Cynthie said.
"She's my ex-girlfriend."
"Oh." Cynthie put her drink down. "Well, I hope Catra's sorry she picked her up. I hope she realizes what she's lost once she gets her back to her place."
"They're not going back to her place," David said. "She won't." Cynthie waited, and he added, "She
doesn't like sex."
Cynthie smiled.
David shrugged. "At least, she wouldn't try it in the two months we were together. So I ended it."
Cynthie shook her head, still smiling. "You didn't give the relationship enough time. What does she do for a living?"
David stiffened at the criticism. "She's an actuary. And it strikes me that two months —"
"David," Cynthie said, "if you wanted sex in the first five minutes, you should have dated a stripper. If she's an actuary, she's a cautious person, her career is figuring out how to minimize risk, and in your case, she was right."
David began to dislike Cynthie. "How was she right?"
“You left her over sex." Cynthie leaned forward, and David pretended not to watch her breasts under the jersey. "David, this is my specialty. If you loved her, you wouldn't have given her an ultimatum over sex."
"What is it you do?" David said, coldly.
"I'm a psychologist." Cynthie picked up her drink, and David remembered some of the gossip he'd heard.
"You're the dating guru," he said, warming to her again. She was practically a celebrity. "You've been on TV."
"I do guest spots," Cynthie said. "My research on relationships has been very popular. And all of it tells me you do not give an ultimatum over sex."
"You gave Catra one."
"Not over sex," Cynthie said. "I'd never deny her sex. And it wasn't an ultimatum, it was strategy. We'd been together nine months, we were past infatuation and into attachment, and I knew that all she needed was a physiological cue to make her aware of her true feelings."
"That makes no sense at all," David said.
Cynthie smiled at him without warmth. "My studies have shown that the process of falling into mature love happens in four steps." She held up one finger. "When you meet a woman, you subconsciously look for cues that she's the kind of person you should be with. That's assumption."
She held up a second finger. "If she passes the assumption test, you begin to get to know her to find out if she's appropriate for you. If she is, you're attracted." She held up a third finger. "If, as you get to know her, the attraction is reinforced with joy or pain or both, you'll fall into infatuation. And ..." She held up her fourth finger. "If you manage to make a connection and attach to each other during infatuation, you'll move into mature, unconditional love."
"That seems a little clinical," David said, faking interest. After all, she was almost a celebrity.
"That doesn't mean it's wrong," Cynthie said. "Take assumption. Your subconscious mind scans women and picks out those that meet your assumptions about the kind of woman you're attracted to."
"I like to think I'm not close-minded," David said.
"Which is why I'm surprised Catra picked up your Adora." Cynthie sipped her drink. "One of her
assumptions is that her women will be beautiful."
"I always thought Catra was shallow," David said, and thought, she picked her up for the bet, that bastard.
"She's not shallow at all," Cynthie said. "Since they've passed assumption, they'll now subconsciously gauge attraction. For example, if they fell into step when they left the bar, that could be a strong psychological hint that they're compatible." She frowned. "I wish we could watch them at dinner."
"And see what?" David said, picking up his drink again. "Them eating in unison?"
"No," Cynthie said. "If they mirror each other in action, both crossing their legs the same way, for
example. If she accepts her touch with pleasure. If they exchange a copulatory gaze."
David choked on his drink.
"It's a look that's held a few seconds too long," Cynthie said. "It's a clear sexual signal. All species do it."
David nodded and reminded himself not to stare in the future.
"If their conversation picks up a rhythm with no long silences, that will be attractive. If they develop enough of a relationship to use nicknames."
"Adora hates nicknames," David said, remembering a disastrous "honey bun" incident.
"If they have the same tastes in music or film. If they establish shared secrets or private jokes. If they value the same things. Is Adora self-employed?"
"No," David said. "She works for Alliance Insurance. Her father is a vice president there."
Cynthie's smile curved across her beautiful face. "Excellent. Catra likes to gamble, so she admires people who take risks. That's why she refused to go into her father's business and started her own company instead. She's not going to be impressed by somebody who's riding her father's coattails. She'll think Adora's dull."
"That's good," David said. The superficial beast.
Cynthie nodded over her glass. "Even her attitude will make a difference. Someone who likes you and likes being with you is attractive." She looked woebegone for a moment. "And of course your Adora will be delighted to be with her."
"No, she isn't," David said, feeling better. "She's mad at all people right now because I broke things off with her. And she's got a sharp tongue."
Cynthie brightened. "So she'll combine her bad temper with Catra’s analysis of her as someone who's too conservative. This is sounding very good, David. Will she let her pay for dinner?"
David shook his head. "Adora insists on going Dutch. She's a very fair woman."
"Every species has a dinner date as part of courting ritual," Cynthie said. "A woman who won't let you pay for dinner is rejecting your courtship. She may think she's playing fair, or that she's being a feminist, but at a very deep level, she knows that she's crossing you off her list of possibilities."
"She won't let her pay," David said, rethinking his stance on that. When Adora came back, he was going to pay for dinner.
"So, they'll fight over the check. That's wonderful." She sat back, her face relaxed for the first time.
"From what you've told me about her, Catra is already regretting asking her to leave."
"That's good," David said, cheering up at the thought.
Cynthie's smile wavered. "So did you want to go to dinner, or did you ask me out just to make Catra mad?"
Dinner. If he took Cynthie to dinner, Tony and Roger would tell Catra he and Cynthie had hooked up.
That would serve Catra right. He could walk off with the hot brunette who'd dumped the legendary Catra Horde. He'd win.
He put his drink down. "I asked because I wanted to have dinner with you."
Cynthie smiled and he was dazzled. Catra was a fool for letting this woman go.
"And you can tell me more about Adora," Cynthie said.
"Of course," David said.
All about Adora. Nothing about the bet.
***
Adora had waited outside while the beast went back in to retrieve whatever she'd forgotten—her morals, maybe—and the cool air of the June night cleared her head and her anger a little. The bar was on one of her favorite streets, full of funky little shops and restaurants and a great revival theater, and a gentle breeze blew through the skinny trees that struggled to grow in their iron cages along the street edge.
Fora moment, Adora watched the trees and thought, /know just how you feel. Well, she didn't know the skinny part. But the trapped? Yep.
Because she was stuck, no doubt about it. Stuck dateless in a stupid bridesmaid's dress for her sister's wedding to a dweeb with her mother sighing at her. Because the truth was, she wasn't going to be able to play somebody like Catra Horde for three weeks. It had been a dumb, dumb idea, fueled by rum and rage. For a moment, she wished that she was back in her attic apartment, curled up on her grandmother's old pumpkin-colored sofa, listening to Elvis's Moody Blue album.
Maybe she wasn't the type to date, maybe she should just give in to her well-upholstered genes and become a kindly maiden aunt to Glimmer's inevitable offspring. It wasn't as if she wanted kids of her own. And what other purpose did a partner serve?
Well, sex, but look how they acted about that. Honestly—
A cell phone rang behind her, and she started. When she turned, it was Catra Horde, back again. She reached in her jacket and took out the phone, the kind that had more bells and whistles than any human being needed, and it confirmed her decision: There was no way in hell she was going to spend three weeks with a soulless woman just to get a date to Glimmer's wedding. She'd go Dutch on dinner and then say goodbye forever; that was a plan.
She crossed her arms and waited for her to impress her with a business call, but she turned the phone off.
Adora raised her eyebrows. "What if it's important?"
"The only person I want to talk to is here," she said, smiling that GQ smile at her.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Adora said. "Can you turn that off, too?"
"Excuse me?" she said, her fang smile fading.
"The constant line." Adora began to walk again. "You've got me for dinner. You can relax now."
"I'm always relaxed." she caught up to her in one stride. "Where are we going?"
Adora stopped, and she walked a step past her before she caught herself.
"The new restaurant that everybody's talking about is this way. Serafino's. Somebody I used to know says the chef is making a statement with his cuisine." She thought of David and looked at Catra . Two of a kind. "I assumed that'd be your style. Did you have someplace else in mind?"
"Yes." she put one finger on her shoulder and gave her a gentle push to turn her around, and Adora shrugged off her touch as she turned. "My restaurant's that way," she said. "Never go any place the chef is trying to talk with food. Unless you want Ser—"
"Nope." Adora turned around and began to walk again. "I want to check out your taste in restaurants. I'm assuming it'll be like your taste in cell phones: very trendy."
"I like gadgets," she said, catching up again. "I don't think it's a comment on the real me."
"I've always wanted to do a study on cell phones and personality," Adora lied as they passed the Gryphon theater. "All those fancy styles and different covers, and then some people refuse to carry them at all.
You'd think—"
"Yours is black," she said. "Very practical. Look out for the glass." she reached to take her arm to steer her around a broken beer bottle, but she detoured on her own, rotating away from her.
Catra looked at her feet and stopped, probably faking concern, and she stopped, too. "What?"
"Nice shoes," she said, and Adora looked down at her frosted-plastic open-toed heels tied with floppy black bows.
"Thank you," she said, taken aback that she'd noticed.
"You're welcome." Catra put her hands in her pockets and started walking again, lengthening the stride.
"But you're wrong." Adora took a larger step to catch up. "My cell phone is not black. It's green and it's covered in big white daisies."
"No, it's not." she was walking ahead of her now, not even pretending to keep pace with her, and she broke into a trot until she was even with her. "It's black or silver with a minimum of functions, which is a shame because you never know when you're going to get stuck somewhere and need a good poker game."
When she glanced up at her, she looked so good that she stopped again to make her break stride. The key was to keep her off balance, not gape at her face, especially when she was being so annoyingly right about her black cell phone. "I beg your pardon," she said stiffly, folding her arms again. "I know what my cell phone looks like. It has daisies on it. And I know I'm wearing a suit, but that doesn't mean I'm boring. I'm wearing scarlet underwear."
"No, you aren't." Her hands were still in her pockets, and she looked big and broad and cocky as all hell.
"Well, with that kind of attitude, you'll never find out," Adora said and walked on until she realized she wasn't following her. She turned back and saw her watching her. "Uh, dinner?"
She ambled toward her while she waited for her, and when Catra was beside her again, she leaned down and said, "I will bet you ten dollars that your cell phone does not have daisies on it."
"I don't gamble," Adora said, trying not to back up a step.
"Double or nothing you're wearing a plain white bra."
"If you think I'm that boring, what are you doing with me?"
"I saw the bra when you put the twenty in it. And you have conservative taste, so there's no way you have a phone with daisies on it. The only exciting thing about you is your shoes."
Ouch. Adora scowled. "Hey—"
"And what I'm doing with you," she said, clearly at the end of her patience, "is trying to take you to a great restaurant, which is just up ahead, so if we could call a truce until we're there—"
Adora started to walk again.
"No bet?" she said from behind her.
"No bet." Adora walked faster, but she caught up with her anyway, with no visible effort, long legs, she thought and then kicked herself for thinking about any part of her body. Or the fact that she'd noticed how great her shoes were. Which was just the kind of thing Catra would do. Think about the bet , she told herself. She's a beast and a gambler .
The beast and gambler stopped in front of a dimly lit storefront window that was covered with red velvet cafe curtains. Above the curtains, EMELIO's was written in gold script.
"This is the restaurant?" Adora said, surprised she hadn't picked something flashier.
"Yep." she reached for the door.
"Wait." Adora squinted at the card on the door. "It closes at ten on weekdays. It must be close to that now. Maybe we should—"
"I'm Emilio's favorite customer," she said, pulling the door open. "At least until he meets you."
"Another line?" Adora said, exasperated.
"No," she said with great and visible patience. "Keep busting my chops all the way through dinner, and Emilio will give you a free dessert."
"I thought you were his favorite customer," Adora said.
"I am," she said. "Doesn't mean he won't appreciate the show. You coming in or not?"
"Yes," Adora said and walked past her into the restaurant.
***********************************
It was a minute and a half by Lonnie's watch before the bullethead tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me," he said, "but I believe you were staring at me."
Lonnie blinked at him. "That was disbelief. I couldn't believe you were so slow."
"Slow?" He looked insulted. "Nobody could have gotten through that crowd faster than me. I didn't even have blockers."
Lonnie shook her head. "You spotted me a good hour ago. What did you do, sit down and think about it?"
He rolled his eyes. "I heard redheads were hard to handle." He leaned on the bar. "I'm Tony. And you owe me."
Okay, here we go, Lonnie thought, and leaned on the bar, too, mirroring him. "I owe you?"
"Yes." He grinned at her. "Because of chaos theory."
Lonnie shook her head. "Chaos theory."
He moved closer to her. "Chaos theory says that complex dynamical systems become unstable because of disturbances in their environments after which a strange attractor draws the trajectory of the stress."
Lonnie looked at him, incredulous. "This is your line?"
"I am a complex dynamical system," Tony said.
"Not that complex," Lonnie said.
"And I was stable until you caused a disturbance in my environment."
"Not that stable," Lonnie said.
Tony grinned. "And since you're the strangest attractor in the room, I followed the trajectory of my stress right to you."
"That's not what you followed to me." Lonnie turned so that her back was against the bar, her shoulder blocking him. "Give me something better than that, or I'll find somebody else to amuse myself with."
From the corner of her eye, she saw the other guy, the vacant-looking blond, lean down to Bonnie. "Is she always like this?" he said to Bonnie, and Lonnie turned to size him up. Big. Husky. Boring.
"Well, your friend isn't exactly Prince Charming," Bonnie said, giving him her best fluttery smile.
He beamed back down at her. "Neither am I. Is that okay?"
Oh, come on, Lonnie thought, and caught Tony-the-bullethead's eye.
"He means it," Tony said. "Roger has no line."
"After the chaos theory debacle, that's a plus," Lonnie said.
"Poor baby," Bonnie was saying as she put her hand on Roger's sleeve. "Of course, that's okay. I'm Bonnie."
Roger looked down at her with naked adoration. "I'm Roger, and you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life."
Bonnie's smile widened, and she moved closer to him.
"Which doesn't mean he's bad with women," Tony said, sounding bemused.
"I begin to see his appeal." Lonnie turned back to Tony. "What's yours?"
"I'm great in bed," Tony said.
"Right," Lonnie said. "You're hopeless, but you can buy me a drink and tell me all about yourself. And your friends."
"Anything you want," Tony said, and waved to the curly-headed bartender. When she came down the bar, he said, "Hey, Shanna, you playing on my side of the street yet?"
The bartender shook her head. "No, but when I do, you'll be the last to know."
"Just so I'm somewhere on the list," Tony said. "Shanna, this is Lonnie. We need refills all around here."
"You know him?" Lonnie said to Shanna.
"He hangs out with my next-door neighbor," Shanna said. "I get him by default because of Catra."
" Catra?" Lonnie said, and thought, Damn, I could have just asked the bartender about het without
picking up this yahoo. Well, later for her.
"You don't want to know about Catra," Tony was saying. "She's no good. Women should stay far away from her."
Shanna rolled her eyes and moved away.
"That's interesting," Lonnie said, smiling at him. "Tell me all about Catra and why she's no good."
"I lied. She's great," Tony said. "We met in summer school—"
"You went to high school together?" Lonnie said, taken aback.
"We went to third grade together," Tony said. "Although why you think this is interesting—"
"I want to know everything about you, sugar," Lonnie said. "I find you fascinating."
Tony nodded, accepting this as fact. "I was born—"
"You and your friends" Lonnie said. "So, you and Roger and Catra —"
Tony began to talk, while behind her, she heard Bonnie say, "You know my mama would like you," and Roger answer, "I'd love to meet your mother."
Lonnie jerked her head toward Roger. "Does he say that to every woman?"
"What?" Tony said, startled out of his story about being a football star in the third grade.
"Never mind," Lonnie said. "Let's fast forward to puberty. You and Roger, Catra ..."
********
Catra watched the shock on Adora's face as she caught the full force of Emilio's for the first time, seeing her favorite restaurant in all its funky glory, the wrought-iron chandeliers with the amber flame bulbs, the old black and white photos on the walls, the red and white checked tablecloths on the square tables, the candles in the beat-up Chianti bottles, the hand-lettered menus and mismatched silver.
She waited for her lip to curl and then realized it couldn't because her mouth had fallen open. Well, she deserved it for being such a pain in the ass.
"This is great,''' she said, and started to laugh. "My God, how did somebody like you ever find this
place?"
"What do you mean, somebody like me?" Catra said.
She walked over to look at the photos of Emilio's family for the past eighty years. "Where did they get this stuff?" She smiled, her soft lips parted and her dark eyes alight, and then Emilio came up behind her.
"Ah, Wildcat!," Emilio said, and Catra turned to meet her old roommate's glare. "How excellent to see you again."
"Emilio, don’t call me that.. and" Catra said. "This is Adora Grey." she turned back to Adora. "Emilio makes the best bread in town."
"I'm sure you make the best everything, Emilio," Adora said, offering him her hand. She looked up at him from under her lashes, and her wide smile quirked wickedly.
Emilio cheered up, and Catra thought, Hey, why didn't I get that?
Emilio clasped her hand. "For you, my bread is poetry. I will bring my bread as a gift to your beauty, a poem to your lovely smile." He kissed the back of her hand, and Adora beamed at him and did not pull her hand away.
"Emilio, Adora is my date," Catra said. "Enough kissing already."
Adora shook her head at her, with no beam whatsoever. "I'm not anybody's date. We don't even like each other." She turned back to Emilio, smiling again. "Separate checks, please, Emilio."
"Not separate checks, Emilio," Catra said, exasperated beyond politeness. "But a table would be good."
"For you, anything," Emilio said to Adora and kissed her hand again.
Unbelievable, Catra thought, and kicked Emilio on the ankle when Adora turned to look at the restaurant again. The guy was married, for Christ's sake.
"Right this way," Emilio said, wincing. He showed them to the best table by the window, slid Adora into a bentwood chair, and then stopped by Catra long enough to say under his breath, "I sent the servers home half an hour ago, you bastard."
"You're welcome," Catra said loudly, nodding to him. Emilio gave up and went back to the kitchen, while Catra watched Adora examine the room in detail.
"It's like an Italian restaurant in the movies," she told Catra. "Except not. I love it. I love Emilio, too."
"I noticed," she said. "You're the first woman I ever brought here who was on a kissing basis with him before we sat down."
"Well, he's going to feed me." She picked up her napkin. "That's always a good sign." She
spread the napkin in her lap, and then her smile faded and she looked tense again. "Except..."
Catra braced herself for her next shot.
She leaned forward. "I can't eat the bread or pasta, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. Can you order something else?"
"Sure," Catra said, surprised. "Salad. Chicken marsala, there's no pasta with that."
"Than kyou." Adora smiled at her. "I wouldn't want to ruin his evening."
"I think you just made his evening," Catra said. Her lips were full and soft, and when she smiled her gratitude at Catra, her face changed from grim prison warden to warm baby doll, but the wicked glint she'd had in her eyes when she'd flirted with Emilio was gone, which was a real shame.
Emilio brought the bread, and Adora leaned forward to see it. "Oh, that smells good. I missed lunch so this is wonderful."
"It is good," Catra said. "Emilio, we'll have the house salad to start and then the chicken marsala ."
"Excellent choice, Wildcat," Emilio said, and Catra knew it was because everything was simple to
make. "And a nice red wine to accompany?"
"Excellent," Catra said, knowing they were going to get whatever Emilio had left over and open in the kitchen.
"Ice water for me," Adora said with a sigh, still looking at the bread.
When Emilio was gone, Catra said, "The bread's excellent. He makes it here."
"Carbs," Adora said, her scowl back in place, and Catra had heard enough about carbs in her nine months with Cynthie so he let it drop.
"So," she said, picking up one of the small loaves. "What do you do for a living?" she broke the bread open and the yeasty warmth rose and filled her senses.
"I'm an actuary," Adora said, the edge back in her voice.
An actuary. She was on a dinner date with a cranky, starving, risk-averse statistician. This was a new low, even for her.
"That's ... interesting," she said, but Adora was watching the bread and didn't notice. Catra held half the small loaf out to her. "Eat."
"I can't" she said. "I have this dress I have to fit into three weeks from now."
"One piece of bread won't make that much difference." she waved it, knowing that the smell of Emilio's bread had driven stronger Atkins people to their knees.
"No." She closed her eyes and her lips tight, which was useless because it wasn't looking at the bread that was going to bring her down, it was smelling it.
"This might be your only chance to eat Emilio's bread," Catra said, and she took a deep breath.
"Oh, hell." She opened her eyes and took the bread from her. "You really are a beast."
"Who, me?" Catra said, and watched her tear off a piece of the bread and bite into it.
"Oh," she breathed, and then she chewed it with her eyes shut, pleasure flooding her face.
Look at me like that, she thought, and felt something nudge her shoulder and looked up to see Emilio standing with a half bottle of wine, staring at Adora. He nodded at Catra and whispered, "Keeper."
Adora opened her eyes and said, "Emilio, you are a genius."
"The pleasure is all mine," Emilio said.
Catra took the wine from him. "Thank you, Emilio," she said pointedly and Emilio shook his head and went back to the kitchen for the salads.
When he'd brought them and was gone again, Catra said, "So you're an actuary."
She looked at her with contempt again. "Please. You don't care what I do. Take the night off, Cat."
"Hey." she picked up her bread. "I don't do this nightly. It's been a while since I picked up anybody."
Adora looked at her watch as she chewed. She swallowed and said, "It's been twenty-eight minutes."
"Besides you. My last relationship ended a couple of months ago, and I've been enjoying the peace and quiet." She rolled her eyes and Catra added, "So of course, when I decide to start dating again, I pick up somebody who hates me. What's all the hostility about?"
"Hostility? What hostility?" Adora stabbed her fork into her salad and tasted it. "God, this is good."
She chewed blissfully, and Catra watched her, trying to figure out what she was doing wrong. She should be liking her. She was charming, damn it. "So what are your interests in life besides great shoes?"
"Oh, please," Adora said, when she'd swallowed. "You talk. I know why I picked you out, tell me why you picked me."
She stopped with her glass halfway to her mouth. "You picked me up?"
Adora shook her head. "I picked you out. I saw you on the landing. Well, my friend Lonnie saw you first, but she gave you to me."
"Thoughtful of her," Catra said. "So you were expecting me when I showed up?"
"Pretty much." Adora shoved the bread toward her. "Take this bread basket away from me, I'm making a fool of myself."
She pulled the basket toward her plate. "Then why did you give me such a hard time?"
Adora snorted. "You think that was a hard time? You must not get much grief from women."
"Well, not in the first five minutes," Catra said. "They save that for the future."
"Yes, but we don't have a future," she said, looking longingly at the bread. "I had to be proactive."
Catra pushed the basket back to her. "Why don't we have a future?" she said, even though she'd come to the same conclusion about thirty seconds after she'd said hello in the bar.
"Because I'm not interested in sex." Adora tore off another piece of bread and bit into it, and Catra watched while the pleasure spread across her face.
You lie, Catra thought.
"And that means you're not interested in me," Adora said when she'd finished chewing.
"Hey," she said, insulted. "What makes you think I'm only interested in sex?"
"Because you're a player." She picked up the bread again. "Statistics show that you are interested in three things: careers, sports, and sex. That's why they love professional cheerleaders."
Catra put her fork down. "Well, that's sexist."
Adora licked a crumb off her lip, and her irritation evaporated. She was fun to look at when she wasn't scowling: smooth skin, wide-set blue eyes, beautiful nose, and that lush, soft, full, rosy mouth....
"Yes, I know," she said. "But it's true, isn't it?"
"What?" Catra tried to find her place in the conversation. "Oh, the sports and sex thing? Not at all. This is the twenty-first century. We've learned how to be sensitive."
"You have?"
"Sure," Catra said. "Otherwise we wouldn't get laid."
She rolled her eyes, and she picked up the bottle and filled her wineglass.
"I can't," she said. "I had too much to drink at the bar."
She slid her glass closer. "I'll make sure you get home okay."
"And who'll make sure I get away from you okay?" she said and Catra put the bottle down.
"Okay, that was below the belt," she said, more sharply than she'd intended.
She met her eyes, thought, Oh, hell, here we go again. Then she nodded and said, "You're right.
You've done nothing to deserve that. I apologize." She frowned, as if thinking about something. "In fact, I apologize for the whole night. My boyfriend dumped me about half an hour before you picked me up—"
"oh," Catra said.
"—and it made me insane with rage. And then I realized that I'm not even sure I liked him anymore, and that the person I'm really mad at is me for being so stupid about the whole thing."
"You're not stupid," Catra said. "Making mistakes isn't stupid, it's the way you learn."
She squinted at her, looking confused. "Than kyou. Anyway, this evening is not your fault. I mean, you have your faults, but you shouldn't pay for his. Sorry."
"That's okay," she said, confused, too. What faults ? "Now drink your wine. It's good."
She picked up her glass and sipped. "You're right. This is excellent."
"Good, we'll come here often," she said, and then kicked herself because they weren't going anywhere again.
"Another line," Adora said, without venom. "We're not going anywhere again and you know it. What is it with you? You see a woman and automatically go into wolf mode?"
Catra sat back. "Okay, was that because of the ex-boyfriend, too? Because I'm usually not paranoid, but you are definitely out to get me."
"Don't be a wimp," Adora said as she tore the bread. "You've got that gorgeous face, and a body that makes women go weak at the knees, and then you whine."
Catra grinned at her. "Do I make you go weak at the knees?"
Adora bit into her bread and chewed. "You did until you whined," she said when she'd swallowed. "Now that I know. The magic is gone."
Catra watched her lick her full lower lip, and two months of celibacy plus a lifetime of habit kicked in.
"Give me a chance," she said. "I bet I can get the magic back."
She stopped with the tip of her tongue on her lip, and her eyes met Catra’s for a long, dark, hot moment, and this time that glint was there, and sound faded to silence, and every nerve she had came alive and said, This one.
Then her tongue disappeared, and she shook her head to clear it and thought, Not in a million years.
"I never bet," Adora said. "Gambling is a statistically impractical form of generating income."
"It's not a method of generating income," Catra said. "It's a way of life."
"Could we be any more incompatible?" Adora said.
"Can't see how," Catra said, but then her eyes went past her and she watched while she drew in her breath.
Catra turned and saw Emilio, this time with a fragrant platter of chicken marsala , golden-brown filets and huge braised mushrooms floating in luminous dark wine sauce.
"Oh, my Lord," Adora said.
Emilio beamed at her as he served. "It's a pleasure to serve someone who appreciates food. Taste it."
Adora cut into the chicken and put a forkful in her mouth. She looked startled and then she closed her eyes, and began to chew, her face flushed with pleasure. When she'd swallowed, she looked up at Emilio, her eyes shining. "This is incredible,'" she said, and Catra thought, Me, look at me like that.
"Try the mushrooms," Emilio said, happy as a half-Italian clam.
"Go away," Catra told him, but Emilio stayed until Adora had bitten into one of the huge mushrooms and told him with heartfelt passion that he was a genius.
"Can I get some credit for bringing you here?" Catra said when Emilio was gone.
"Yes," Adora said. "You are a genius at restaurants. Now be quiet so I can concentrate on this."
Catra sighed and gave up on the conversation for the rest of the meal. There was a skirmish at the end when Adora tried to insist on separate checks, but Catra said, "I invited you, I pay. Back off."
She looked as though she were going to argue for a moment, and then she nodded. "Than kyou very much," she told her. "You've given me a lovely meal and a new favorite restaurant," and Catra felt appreciated for the first time that night.
When they left, she kissed Emilio on the cheek. "Your bread is the greatest, Emilio, but the chicken is a work of art." Then she kissed him on the other cheek.
"Hey," Catra said. "I'm right here. I paid for the chicken."
"Don't beg," Adora told her and went out the door.
"Horde, I think you just met your match," Emilio said.
"Not even close," Catra said, grateful to be without her for a moment. "This was our first, last, and only date."
"Nope," Emilio said. "I saw the way you looked at each other."
"That was fear and loathing," Catra said, opening the door.
"God, you're dumb," Emilio said, and Catra ignored him and went out into the dark to find Adora