Her name was Charlene and she was the most exquisite thing that I’d ever seen. Long legs, high, small breasts and honey-blonde hair that fell to the center of her back. For the last two years, she’d been faithfully serving me three eggs over easy, hash browns, five slices of bacon and black coffee at the diner near my condo. I guess-timated that she was about thirty, certainly interested in life and an avid reader of P.D. James. I’d study my legal notes while secretly watching her interact with the other patrons. I’d see her smile or laugh, lightly touching them as if they were friends, making them feel at home. I waited for her to touch me like that, but she never did. I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe she just wasn’t into girls.
This particular morning, the weather had started out bad and quickly worsened. Hurricane Diego was whirling toward our famous town of Tupelo after dumping a shitload of water on New Orleans. I was trying to be optimistic, thinking that having my regular breakfast would help the day get better. But it didn’t. In fact, I was the only crazy person that had braved the weather.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” It was the first time that she’d struck up a conversation with me, other than to take my order.
“Probably so.” I closed my portfolio and reached for my coffee just as the electricity went south.
“Holy crap!”
Pete, the owner and short-order cook, came out front, wiping his hands. “Might as well wrap it up, Char. Diego’s coming to call.”
“What about her bill?”
Pete gave me a smile. “Let Diego pay for it. I’ll batten down the hatches and you two skedaddle.”
I picked up my raincoat and shoved my portfolio into my satchel, preparing to brave the weather. “Thanks for breakfast as always, Charlene. Be safe.”
“Hey, wait.” I paused. “Can I ask you a silly question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Oh.” This time, she paused. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
She moved close enough that I could tell that she had turquoise-green eyes. “Do you want one?”
For the first time in my life, I was speechless. I, Amy Wentworth, senior partner in Houston, Spelling and Wentworth, was speechless. I set my satchel down for a moment. “Are you offering?”
She seemed to lose the momentum she had, growing shy. “I know you come in here to see me. And I try not to take your order because you’re awfully tempting and … I have a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend doesn’t mean anything.” I lowered my voice as Pete walked by, putting the salt, pepper and sugar containers into a lidded plastic box. “It can remain our secret.”
Charlene smiled, her eyes darkening. “Then, in that case, can I have a ride?”
“Sure.”
*****
“Nice place.” She shook raindrops from her hair and carefully wiped her feet on the rug. I dropped the umbrella in the hammered brass holder, set my satchel under the table and deposited my keys in the drawer.
“Thanks. Stay where you are. We have no lights.” I went to the hall closet and took out my flashlight, coming back to retrieve her.
“Can I use your phone?”
“It won’t work. No electricity, remember?” She nodded. “You can try my cell phone.”
“Thanks.” She thumbed a number into it. “I just need to call Joey and let him know where I am.”
While she argued with the boyfriend, I went to the kitchen and found a cold bottle of asti spumante, some strawberries and two glasses. She hastily wiped tears away when I returned, plastering a fake smile over her anguish. She knew I wasn’t buying it.
“He can be such an asshole. He wanted me to come home and bring him some food.” I knew better than to say anything. I dropped a berry into the bottom of the glasses, poured some ice-cold spumante over them and handed one to her. “He’s not worried that I might get killed or something.”
“Don’t blame him. He’s just a man.” I touched my glass to hers. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
I reached out and touched her hair. It was a little damp but it was silk against my fingertips. “Looks just like honey.” I murmured.