At six o'clock that evening, Celia pulled her new Z into an empty spot outside of Applebee's. Poking the fob, she heard the subtle click as the doors locked on the first attempt. Still smiling at the sleek silhouette of her new amore, she ran her hand over the fender as she walked toward the restaurant. It amazed her how much happiness touching the car brought her.
This is my car. Who'd a thunk it?
Entering, she surveyed the room. No sign of Wade. She strolled into the bar area expecting to see him waiting for her. He wasn't there, either.
Weird. Maybe he got hung up?
She found that understandable. If someone had walked into the dealership at 5:00, it would have taken a bit of time to close the deal. Without a care, Celia sat at the bar and ordered a red wine.
Applebee's buzzed in the early evening of that Saturday night. It was obvious that the bar would be filling up fast, so she placed her purse on the stool next to her to save it for Wade. Even the two-top tables lining the perimeter were packed. The enormity of customers created a cacophony of laughter and conversation.
This is kinda fun.
A baseball game flashed on the multiple wide-screen TVs. The Rangers were up on the Red Sox in a heated battle, 1-0 in the 7th.
Celia finished her first glass, caught the bartender's eye, and signaled for a second. She checked her phone; 6:30. That officially made Wade AWOL. They hadn't exchanged phone numbers, so she had no way to contact him. It occurred to her that she could call the dealership. All she would need to do is ask for Wade and see if he still wanted to come, but to be honest, she realized she had no desire to do so. The newly minted memory of Dean still festered as a deep regret, so if Wade wasn't coming, it was just as well.
Sitting alone in a new bar had turned out to be rather pleasant. It was Applebee's after all, not some drunk-fest watering hole filled with roaming hordes of cowboys looking to get laid or, at best, get into a fight.
This is kinda nice. I don't even care that Wade ghosted me.
And yet, she threw a furtive glance at the front entry. A couple strolled in and spoke to the hostess—no sign of Wade. A surge of insecurity ran through her at the idea that she had been stood up.
Okay, maybe I'm not so good with him ditching me. Why wouldn't he come?
And why not call? He could have gotten her info from the loan application, but he hadn't.
Truth be told, it had been the car that had created the chemistry between them, and she had ended up going home with that car. A win-win in her book.
You know what? Screw it! His loss.
She raised her glass and gave herself a well-deserved toast.
"You did it all today, baby."
A subdued gasp filled the bar. Looking up at the screen, a replay of a Boston home run showed that they had tied the game. Celia settled onto the barstool and watched as the Red Sox player rounded the bases. A score for Boston, a score for her—it had been a great day.
Her second glass appeared before her.
"Could I get a menu, please?" she asked the bartender. The nationwide, standardized menu, available in every Applebee's on the planet, plopped down before her in an instant.
"Crunchy Onion Rings. A no-brainer choice," she said before the bartender had the chance to turn away.
The bartender replied, "You got it." He crossed to the register and entered the order.
Her phone buzzed. Expecting it to be Wade, she immediately looked at the screen; maybe he had gotten her contact info after all. But no, Rod's name glowed bright. She took a deep breath and opened the text.
Hey baby, can I get your new address in case I gotta get in touch?
Damn, he is such an idiot.
Did he really think she would be so stupid as to tell him where she lived?
Annoyed, she typed, Fuck no! and closed her phone.
Taking a sip of her wine, she felt a presence behind her. A weird disappointment shot through her. She'd been enjoying the solitude of sitting at the bar, and at this point, Wade would just be an intrusion. Turning, she expected to see Wade, but instead, a gray-haired man, tall and thick, stood behind her.
"I see your purse, but I was wondering if anyone was going to be sitting there?" he said with polished politeness.
Celia smirked and said, "There was supposed to be, but his thirty-minute grace period just expired. It's all yours."
The gentleman reached down and handed her the purse. "Thank you." With a gangly effort, he slid onto the stool.
The bartender walked past, and the man said, "Hey, Justin. How ya doing tonight?"
Justin stopped, reached out, and shook the man's somewhat delicate hand.
"I'm good, Garrett. What's new? Staying busy?"
Garrett's voice boomed over the din. "Yeah, I just got back from NYC. Had a meeting with the Yankees. They're looking to upgrade the luxury boxes and wanted a consult."
Justin laughed, "It's always something, right? I wish I had your life; that's for sure."
Garrett laughed too, "You know what they say about the grass always being greener? There are times I wish I had your life."
"When you have three waitresses yelling at you, you'd rethink that," Justin said as he placed a square cardboard coaster and a glass of water in front of Garrett. "The usual?"
"Yeah, that would be great."
Celia overheard this exchange; how could she not? They were practically shoulder to shoulder, and his voice boomed when he spoke.
She watched as the older man spun the pressed cardboard coaster on the bar top. He had the technique down and could manipulate the coaster into one or two revolutions at will. He spun it once in a single, clockwise rotation, stopped it with his finger, then spun it in reverse for two complete rotations. Celia snuck a glance at his profile. He had a regal nose, clean-shaven cheeks leading down to an undistinguished chin. No beard. It seemed every gray-haired guy over sixty had a beard or goatee. She had begun to think of it like menopause; it descended on all men with no warning or control. Turn sixty, and a goatee appears.
Something about him intrigued her, however. Celia wasn't sure if she found him enthralling or just full of shit. He had boomed the name 'Yankees' as though everybody needed to hear it. Feeling spunky, she probed.
"The Yankees, eh? Sounds important," Celia said, initiating contact.
Garrett turned to her with a surprised look on his face.
"I'm sorry?" he said.
"The Yankees? You mean the New York Yankees? Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio, Thurman Munson, Derek Jeter, Aaron Judge? Those Yankees?"
"Ahh, the lady knows her baseball. Yes, those Yankees."
"What do you do that you have business with them?" she challenged him.
Garrett shifted in his seat.
"I have a company that designs sporting venues. They want a little work done on their luxury suites, and that's one of our specialties." He seemed to be trying to downplay the high profile of his business.
Celia sipped her wine.
"Interesting. Are you going to do it?"
Garrett responded, "Not sure. We just had the preliminary meeting this morning."
Celia looked sideways at him. "You were in the Bronx this morning and are now eating in Austin. Must be nice to travel in style."
I have no idea what the routing is from NYC to Austin, but I bet it isn't a direct
flight.
"How long is that flight, anyway?" she tested him. "It's close to four hours. American has one out of JFK that leaves at 5:30 and arrives here at 8:30. It's the only non-stop."
Celia looked at her watch; 6:40. "So, it arrives in about two hours?" she said, very skeptical.
Garrett blushed. "Uhm, yeah. But I wasn't on that flight. The Yankees offered me a ride on the company jet. It took us under three hours to make the trip. I got in an hour ago. Just stopped in for a drink on the way home."
Celia took her turn to blush. "I guess that explains it then. Must be nice!" Garrett smiled. "To tell you the truth," he paused as though he wanted to minimize the experience, but instead his eyes popped wide, and he said, "It was amazing."
He stared at her, and then they both laughed.
"I mean, fucking amazing! Everything was top shelf. I really didn't want to get off when we landed. I tried to convince the pilot just to keep circling." Garrett laughed as he gestured a giant circle with his left hand.
Celia picked up her glass of wine and offered a toast to Garrett. "I hear you.
May we never have to leave the private jet."
Garrett hadn't received his drink yet, so he picked up his water glass and toasted back.
"And may they never run out of champagne toasts and caviar dreams!"
The glasses clinked together, and they drank. Celia laughed as she attempted to swallow, causing her to choke up her sip. She pushed her chin out over the bar as her red wine dribbled down her face. Coughing, she wiped her mouth with her cocktail napkin. With an embarrassed chuckle, she said, "Sorry, as you can see, I have a drinking problem."
Garrett let out a loud belly laugh.
Clearing her throat after her indelicate quaff, she saw the menu on the bar in front of Garrett. "You mean to tell me they didn't feed you on that flight?" Celia choked out.
"Can you imagine my disgust! Seriously! The least they could have done was have Gordon Ramsey serving charcuterie." He laughed at his own joke.
"Actually, there were several choices of hot appetizers available. Stuffed mushrooms, quiche, cheese tray with exotic cheeses, meats, and five kinds of olives. I gorged."
This man was probably in his early sixties, but she found him attractive, in an unconventional way. He was certainly funny enough. She threw a glance at him.
He caught her out of the corner of his eye. Celia smiled and took another sip of her wine.
"I'm sorry, I never introduced myself. I'm Garrett Tyler." He held out his hand to shake.
Celia took his outstretched hand, noticing no wedding ring, and replied, "Celia Barlow."
"Celia, eh. Interesting."
"It's short for Cordelia. I'm named after my great-great-grandmother."
"Your great-great-grandmother was named Celia? That's an unusual name for that time period. But there was a Cordelia Barlow back at the turn of the 20th century who was a suffragette. Any relation?"
Celia's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Why, that would be my great-great.
That's damn impressive. How did you know that?"
"Hell, I've lived in Texas my whole life. My father was a history teacher, so I got all the background stuff. The trivia I could tell you about Texas would make your head spin."
He looked at her with admiration. "My father would've been so thrilled to meet you. The great-great of Celia Barlow. Wow."
Embarrassed, Celia gave him a hesitant smile. "I can't believe you know that."
Who is this old guy?
Justin arrived just at that moment with her onion rings and Garrett's drink, an Old Fashioned, as it turned out.
"Thank you," Celia said. Noticing Garrett's drink, she commented, "Those are really coming back into style, aren't they? Very Mad Men."
Garrett looked at her askance, "Mad Men?"
"You know, the TV show about the ad agency in New York, set in the sixties," she replied, chomping on her first onion ring.
"Ah, I don't watch much TV, although I probably should with all the traveling I do," he said.
"What do you do to occupy time in the air?" she asked. Garrett took a swig of his Old Fashioned and a moment to appreciate it, then looked at Celia. "Since the advent of the internet and the airphone, it's all work time for me."
Celia, oddly relaxed, asked, "How often do you travel?"
"Oh, I'm probably out of town, fifteen to twenty days a month."
"Whoa, doesn't your wife object to that kind of schedule?" she asked, just to check his status. It was a reflex in her defense.
"She did, yes. That's why she's no longer my wife," he laughed. "She said she saw her hairdresser more than she saw me. She took up with a guy who's an auto mechanic. He works locally, and they seem very happy. Guess he changes her oil regularly enough." He laughed at his own joke. "Actually, there was a dipstick joke in there somewhere; I just couldn't find it." They both laughed.
He wasn't married, not that she was looking or really interested, but she filed that tidbit of information in her 'good to know' file.
Mr. Garrett Tyler is a very intriguing fellow.
"Where to next?" she queried.
"I have a series of meetings in New Orleans on Friday, then I'm in London on Monday for a meeting Tuesday." He took another sip of his drink.
"New Orleans." She leaned back, remembering, "I haven't been there since right after high school. I was with my first husband. It was fun, though. He had a training camp there, and I tagged along. Took me to my first strip club. I don't remember the name, but there was a doll on a swing, and her naked legs would come poking out through the windowpanes as she swung forward." She laughed at the memory, "I was mortified when he suggested we go inside." Celia lost herself in the memory, "Until I saw the gal on the pole. That kind of worked for me, in a weird sort of way." She let out an embarrassed laugh as she blushed, "I have no idea why I just told you that."
Garrett laughed with her, "I have to be honest, that was not what I was expecting to hear. But, glad you had a good time. Was it amateur night?"
Celia slapped his arm with pretended indignation, "Don't you even go there!" she chortled.
"So, what does a young, vivacious woman such as yourself do to keep busy these days?" Garrett prodded.
Celia smiled and thought that to be an odd way to ask what she did for a living. Nothing really wrong with it, just bizarre.
"I work for the state, and no, I'm not a prison guard. I'm a Supervising Payroll Analyst for CAPPS HR. They run the state payroll system." Celia told him.
Garrett whistled, "I've done work with the state; I know them. Impressive.
That's a big job. Congratulations."
Celia blushed a bit. "Yeah, I guess it is. I'm working toward my CPA license, but I have miles to go on that one."
"It can't be easy holding that kind of authority in Texas. Not with the ten-gallon hat mentality of most of the male population."
Celia laughed, "You have no idea." Garrett nodded in comprehension. "No, really, you have no idea. The job I had before this one, my supervisor's name was Dog. Need I say more?"
Garrett laughed. "Oh, good lord, only in Texas, right?" He paused. "Do you like where you are?"
Celia looked into his eyes and answered with sincerity, "I do. I couldn't have asked for a better gig at this point in my life. I just got my accounting degree a few months ago, and to land this was a huge stroke of luck. But I'm crushing it, if I do say so myself." It was a rare moment of self-congratulation.
"I'm quite certain of that; I have no doubt. You're very impressive." He paused again.
Garrett took in a deep breath, as though he wasn't sure what to say next. A smile came to him, and he turned to Celia.
"This is going to sound weird, considering, but why don't you come with me?"
"Where?" she asked with honest innocence.
"New Orleans. I mean, I'd fly you down. You'd have your own room and everything, of course. This isn't a booty call or a pick-up line. I just think we've hit it off, and it would be fun to hang out and get to know you better."
Celia's jaw dropped. She didn't know whether to be flattered or pissed. "Who does that? Who asks a woman to go on a trip with him fifteen minutes after they've met?" she asked with a decent amount of indignation.
"Yes, I know. I'm just acting on gut instinct. I'm too impulsive. I really just wanted the company. Look, it was stupid. Please, forget I even said anything."
Celia paused. A million thoughts crashed through her head. She looked down at the bar, but of course, her breasts were in the way. Her breasts. How things had changed since she had these things installed. No one had ever approached her with any sort of indecent proposal prior to the big boobs... and to be honest, she found it flattering.
"Okay, in my world, today is impulse-buy day. I went to Costco, so that says it all there. But I also had a vehicular catastrophe and ended up with a new car; it's a long story. So, going with the flow of the day... I have to work Friday and get off at five. I might be able to swing a bit earlier. How would we get there, and where would we stay? I get my own room, right? And I'm gonna say I won't sleep with you, but I really can't be sure about that anymore, either."
A huge smile filled Garrett's face. Celia could tell he had the impulse to hug her, but he refrained.
"We'll fly. I have to go earlier in the day, but I'll get you a ticket for Friday night. A car will take you to the hotel. I always stay at the Maison de la Luz on Carondelet St. It's right off Lafayette. If the flight's early enough, I'll wait for you for dinner."
Garrett pulled out his phone, opened it, pulled up a blank contact page, and handed it to Celia. "Here, give me your vitals. I'll let you know the plans later tonight."
Celia hesitated but took the phone. As she input her information, a voice in the back of her head started screaming, What the fuck are you doing?
A few hours later, Celia sipped her final glass of red wine on the balcony off her bedroom. She had on a pajama top that buttoned up the front. The shirt hung open, as she had only fastened one button at her stomach. She wasn't wearing a bra but did wear her underwear. The cool night air swirled around her flesh as she indulged in her guilty pleasure. Her head dropped back, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the sensuality of her new life.
Her phone dinged, signaling she had a text. It was from Garrett.
Hi, it's Garrett. Save my info. Here's the reservation for the flight. I got you an early check-in so you can do it on Wednesday night. You'll arrive at 8:17 pm on Friday, and if that's not too late, I'll arrange dinner. I'll have the driver drop you at the restaurant and then take your bags to the hotel. I'm excited to do this. I promise you're in good hands.
Celia read the text twice before she would accept that it could be real. Going to New Orleans with an old guy she'd met at a bar that very night?
What could go wrong?
"Oh, Celia, you crazy ho." Chuckling at herself, a bizarre sense of pride swelled as the stupidity of this bold decision mushroomed in her gut. This sensation triggered an intense flood of goosebumps across her upper torso, and her mouth broke into a broad smile.
It sounds like fun. See ya there.
Looking back, had she bought the chaise lounge that afternoon at Costco, it would have been the least outrageous impulse of the day.