Sunday morning, as I was wheeling my suitcase into the living room, there was rapid, insistent knocking.
Approaching the door, I said, “Alright! Alright! I’m coming!”
I heard Elizabeth say, “Don’t think about ignoring us, we have fritters.”
I laughed, delighted with her ploy. She was adorable and smart. She wanted information and knew Nico-delivered apple fritters was the perfect way to persuade me to give it to her.
I opened to find the couple grinning at me. Nico’s was the dimpled grin of the happy and contented, eager to spread joy to fellow man. Elizabeth’s grin, however, had a more pointed message that said, I’m going to work you over and you will succumb.
I hadn’t called her back after I’d talked to Ken on Tuesday. Nor had I responded to the two voicemails she’d left since then. She was here for the scoop.
“Please, please, do come into my humble abode.” I made a broad, sweeping gesture toward the living room then made a motion to relieve Nico of the fritters as he passed.
But Elizabeth, the tiny, evil ninja, inserted her body between me and the treats. “Hold them high, Nico. Don’t let him have them!”
For his part, Nico did her bidding, raised the plate as high as he could and continued into the apartment.
I sighed in exasperation. “So, you’re here for an interrogation, I see. Determined to bring torture into it, hmm?” I squared my shoulders and smoothed my T-shirt, as if readying myself for battle. “While I applaud your cunning, I’ll have you know that you are a monster who is in direct violation of the Geneva Conventions.”
Nico laughed. I always felt a sense of accomplishment when I made him laugh. “I’m nearly as tall as he is, I could have them in an instant,” I boasted, snapping my fingers.
“Ah, but he’s wily and plays dirty,” she said. “You’ll never get them.”
“Ugh. Alright. I have not had my coffee yet and I’m starving, so I’ll acquiesce this time and tell you whatever you want to hear,” I capitulated. “Just please give me the doughnut.”
As I prepared our coffees and dished up the fritters, Elizabeth spied my suitcase. “Going somewhere?”
I nodded. “Tomorrow Dan and I are going to Hamburg for meetings with a client for potential expansion.”
“Who’s watching Wally?” Nico asked.
Wally was Dan’s dog. He was a four-year-old black lab mix, and, in my completely unbiased opinion, the best dog on the planet. Dan had been doing a lot of traveling—more than his normal amount—due to Janie’s bedrest and Quinn’s need to be home with her. That meant Wally needed a dog-sitter. Alex and I were the usual sitters.
“Alex and Sandra are taking him,” I replied.
“I’m home this week. If Alex needs a break, I’ll take him,” Nico offered.
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” I said as we sat on the couch. “Now, for the house rules,” I announced.
“Don’t spill, or I’ll have to kill,” we three said in unison. Nico said it loudly with a smile, while Elizabeth’s recitation was delivered in a robotic monotone.
My couch was a large, white, curved sofa that meandered in a lazy, reverse S shape. One end had no backrest, but instead, spread into a wide, circular cushion. It was soft, but firm enough that it retained its sleek shape after use. It was furniture art and fit the space of my apartment as if it were perfectly created to inhabit it. Also, it was obscenely expensive.
Did I mention it was white?
It was white. Snow white.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said, “You’re the one who’s going to be spilling. So, spill.”
“It was no big deal,” I explained. “I called him back, he wanted to see a movie,” I said the words plainly, casually, and sipped my coffee. I hoped she’d be disappointed in Ken’s mundane motivation and lose interest. I didn’t know whether it was because she knew him and apparently didn’t like him, or because maybe at one point, she more than liked him, but whatever the reason, I didn’t feel like sharing the story with her. I felt oddly protective of my time with DKM.
“He asked you to a movie?” She blinked, nonplussed.
“Who are we talking about?” Nico asked, leaning around Elizabeth to look at me. His green eyes held a mischievous twinkle, no doubt eager to hear a new chapter of farce and lunacy in Steven’s Big Book of Dating Disasters.
“Ken Miles,” I replied.
Nico’s twinkle and dimple disappeared. Whether Elizabeth disliked Ken or not, I was sure Nico loathed the man. I couldn’t blame him; it was his prerogative to hate men who used to lust after his wife. He arched one raven eyebrow and asked, “How’d that come about?”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said. “How, Steven?” Her tone was curious, but I thought I detected a little tinge of disapproval that I didn’t like.
Not wanting to make an issue of anything, I replied with an easy nonchalance. “I ran into him at Buzzy’s. We started talking about Mystery Science Theater 3000—”
“That show’s a riot,” Nico asserted, reaching for his fritter. “The reboot is pretty good, too.”
“That’s what I told DKM.” I took Nico’s lead and grabbed my own heavenly pastry. “Then, when he found out the movie was playing at the Music Box, he asked me if I wanted to see it. So, we went.” I shrugged.
“There’s a movie?” Nico asked. “How did I not know this?”
I mumbled around my fritter bite, “You’re not missing much.”
“Stinker, eh?”
“Little bit.” I shrugged again. That had been two, overly casual shrugs in just a few seconds and I worried I was playing it too cool. Elizabeth’s powers of observation surpassed my own. If I wasn’t careful, she’d have me giving her every last detail of the evening.
“So,” she broke in. “Are you thinking this might have been like, you know, a date?” Her brows were drawn together in concern, her words tentative.
I tilted my head in stern exasperation. “Puh-leeze. The man didn’t know who McSteamy was. I got the memo that he’s straight.”
“Who’s McSteamy?” Nico asked.
I pursed my lips together, raised my eyebrows and gestured to Nico. “I rest my case.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you getting the wrong idea or anything. He’s”—she looked at her husband in apology—“he’s very good-looking, and I could see how asking you to a movie could get your hopes up.”
“Nah,” I waved dismissively. “I know what’s up. But I think we could hang out,” I volunteered without thinking. I instantly regretted my slip.
“Good luck with that,” Nico said with a laugh.
“We had a good time. He’s kind of funny,” I defended.
“Not possible,” he declared. Nico was a comedian, and a very successful one at that. He knew what was funny and wasn’t about to give the odious Dr. Miles any benefit of the doubt where humor was concerned.
Inexplicable annoyance spurred me to continue. “I think I might make hanging out with him a regular thing.”
“I don’t think a stiff like that knows how to have fun.”
Elizabeth grimaced at her husband’s uncharacteristic snark, then issued me a sympathetic smile. “Well, it will be good for Dr. Ken Miles. He’s not the most colorful person in the city, that’s for sure. Maybe you’ll broaden his horizons.”
After breakfast, I said my thanks and saw them out. When I closed the door, I let my smile drop, feeling suffused with irritation. I knew they had their own history with Ken and were allowed to have feelings about him. But that was all wrapped up in romantic drama and had nothing to do with me. I didn’t want that negativity souring my enthusiasm for our budding friendship.
I got the feeling there was so much more to Ken left to suss out. His dispassionate demeanor and model good looks didn’t immediately evoke imaginings of depth or warmth. But it was there. And when I returned from Germany, I was going to learn more about the intriguing Dr. Ken.