Rex Redondo
"Thanks for dinner." Rex looked across the table at Viv. She'd been polite during their meal. But he sensed something wasn't quite right.
Viv reached for his empty plate, then hers. She stacked the utensils on top and stood from her chair. "I decided to let you win. You know because you hurt yourself. You get an A for effort."
Rex had made any number of attempts to keep the conversation going over the meal. Asking about Miss Kitty. Clever stories about Kevin. Recollecting about the times when his mentalist act went south and how he'd recovered.
She'd remained attentive but quiet. Which made him nervous. He liked it when she talked more. Viv had a way of hiding her feelings behind a very pleasant exterior.
But she did have a tell. He'd noticed when they first met. How she traced her chin with her forefinger when she was holding back her emotions. And then at dinner, she didn't initiate any conversation, just responded politely.
As the meal progressed, he began to worry. Unaccustomed to his lack of confidence in matters of the heart, his good leg began to jiggle under the table. Once he realized he wasn't getting anywhere with breaking down her reserve, he began to wonder. Maybe she's mad at me…
Viv brought back two pieces of cheesecake with a dollop of whipped cream and a luscious-looking strawberry on top of each slice. She placed one plate in front of Rex with a dessert fork before sitting across from him.
"In answer to your question, I rarely, if ever, gamble. I tried once at a slot machine."
He took a bite. Eyes opening wide, he swallowed and grinned. "Cheesecake is one of my favorites and this one is sublime. Make it yourself?"
"I do bake an occasional cheesecake and I freeze portions for special occasions. Happy you like it." Her matter-of-fact voice took away the pleasure of thinking that she'd made it especially for him.
"So what happened at the slot machine?" He took another bite, savoring the mixture of vanilla and strawberry on his tongue.
"I lost seventy-five cents!" Viv said indignantly. "Never again. Why would anyone use their money so carelessly."
"Honey, I watch people gamble everything they've got night after night. I don't go in for dice or cards myself, maybe the occasional gin rummy, but for some it's not just a game. It's a lifestyle."
"It's stupid. And irresponsible." She politely took a bite of her dessert.
"And that's why I appreciate you so much. You just say what you think. Put it right out there." He swallowed and then surprised himself. I have one more trick up my sleeve to break down this impasse.
He didn't like having to confront her, but he did it anyway. "So why don't you tell me what's really bothering you. I've felt it all night." He realized he was testing her resolve. Let's see what she's made of.
She put down her fork, a thoughtful look coming over her face. "I won't deny there's something on my mind. But I don't want to get into your business."
"My business?"
"You know—who you are. You have a way with people that I find off-putting. And since we're just neighbors, not that close really, it's not for me to judge."
Rex's heart plummeted. He'd been assuming, apparently falsely, that they were growing closer. Especially since they'd seen more of each other the past few days. He'd made every effort to be on his best behavior, but now something was seriously wrong.
When she resumed picking at her dessert, he knew it was up to him. He had to convince her to tell him his faults. "It's okay. If I've offended you in some way, I want to know. So that I can fix it," he hastily added.
She pushed her plate away, shaking her head in disagreement. "You don't have to fix anything. I'm not in the business of changing you or anyone else. And I'm not offended so much as perplexed."
He gulped. Despite her calm he detected a hint of sadness. She was trying to cover it up, but Rex could feel it, nestled somewhere in her past.
"Please don't be sad!" he said impulsively. "I want to hear. Go on, tell me."
She dabbed at her lips with a napkin. Acting as if she were considering his offer. Rex knew their relationship might depend on how she chose to go forward, so he lowered his eyes as his gut clenched.
"You lie," she flatly stated. "So often. So confidently. I don't always know when you're telling the truth. I feel unsettled with that. In the past I've been lied to and been hurt. I'm too old to go down that road again."
Rex liked to think that no one noticed his slight prevarications. He only used them occasionally—at work of course, and when necessary to make things come out right. That was what he told himself. No one else had complained.
Well, maybe that woman he dated last year. She said he was undependable. Please, she's wasn't exactly a straight arrow when it came down to it. She'd lied about her age. She'd lied about where she grew up. She'd even lied about her three ex-husbands.
That's the way of things. People lie. Sure, he told the occasional fib now and then. But it wasn't a deal-breaker. Not for him.
He felt a pout coming on. A lot of women tried to make him happy when he pouted. It was his go-to move. He was annoyed at Viv. She'd hurt his feelings. No one gets to do that, his inner voice protested.
He pushed his plate forward, thinking, Character assassination. That's what this is. Then he looked at her face, the way she used her forefinger to curl that strand of hair next to her ear. His heart melted. This is hard for her too, he realized.
Instead of standing to make a quick exit, he changed his mind. "Lost my napkin," he mumbled. He pushed his chair back. Head under the table, he admired her shapely ankles. I'll skip the pout, he decided.
He waved his napkin in the air. "Got it," he said.
"That's nice." She'd resumed her overly polite voice.
"Yup." He released a deep sigh, realizing his close call. He'd almost left. Now with his anger pushed aside, he reconsidered.
Viv's not trying to hurt me. What was that word she used? Perplexed.
"I don't lie to hurt people," he explained. "At least not on purpose."
He could see and feel her mind whirl as she considered his words. The familiar tingle made its way up his spine. A sign that he'd managed to shift the awareness field.
Rex was used to women wanting things from him. A good time. An expensive dinner. As they say, a superior boyfriend experience. But Rex wasn't used to someone really caring about what made him tick.
It was rare, this moment of self-reflection. And I thought there was nothing new for a guy like me, especially at my age.
"So help me here," he began, hesitation in his voice. "When did I lie most recently? I need an example." He tentatively smiled. And then he was rewarded with her steady gaze.
"When you told Farrah, ' I need a new place to launder my fancy work shirts.'" She used air quotes. "That seemed unnecessary to me. Why not just say you want to know who killed Carmine Nelson and that your curiosity got the better of you?"