Houston, We Have a Problema Page 12

  She finally settled on basic black, with a simple halter top and a flounced skirt that managed to be sexy yet flattering at the same time. In fact, it was one of Guillermo’s favorites. But she pushed that thought aside, not wanting to think about Guillermo anymore tonight. She dressed up the outfit with silver sandals and a few pieces of jewelry, then checked her hair and makeup one last time. She was a little nervous, as usual, but mostly just excited. She couldn’t wait to see Ahi or to hear the new music.

  Jonathan knocked at her door right on time. It was immediately obvious from the look on his face that he liked the skirt, too.

  “Wow. You look awesome.”

  “Thank you. Do you want to come in and have a drink before we go?” Jessica was proud of the fact that she’d gone to the grocery store and liquor store after work. She could now offer him red or white wine, a vodka martini, or imported beer.

  “We can,” he said affably, “but we’re getting pretty close to our reservation.”

  “Oh, okay.” Jessica went to get her purse and keys. She felt — not disappointed, exactly, but a little confused. Jonathan was all about the events, she’d noticed. This was their third date, and he didn’t seem interested in taking advantage of her at all. It flashed through her mind, suddenly, that he might be gay. Maybe he was just using her as his beard?

  But he dispelled this thought with his next comment. “I wish we did have more time. Actually, I’d like to invite you to my place sometime soon. I just finished doing some renovations, and I’d love to have you over for a drink and show them to you. Maybe tonight, after the . . .” He gave a self-deprecating laugh then. “Well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself.”

  Jessica smiled at him encouragingly as she locked her door and followed him down the metal stairs. “Don’t worry. I’d love to see your place.”

  At the restaurant, which wasn’t too far from Jessica’s neighborhood, they valeted his Audi and stepped inside to find a crowded waiting area. The hostess informed them that reservations were running behind and they’d have to wait at least forty-five minutes. Jessica tried to hide her disappointment. From the moment she’d walked in and seen the ultratrendy lighting and decor, she’d been dying to try the food. It was too bad she wouldn’t be able to now, unless she wanted to stand around for an hour, which she didn’t. There wasn’t even any seating at the bar.

  Jonathan turned to her and started to apologize, but then, suddenly, a man in a suit came out from behind the bar and called his name.

  “Do you mind waiting here a second?” Jonathan asked her, then went to talk to the man. While Jessica watched, they smiled and laughed like old friends. Then Jonathan waved Jessica over to the bar area and introduced them. “Jessica, this is Ron. Ron, this is my friend Jessica.”

  “How are you?” Ron said to her. Then, to Jonathan, “All right. I hope you guys enjoy dinner. I wish I had more time to talk, but —”

  “We understand,” said Jonathan. “Do what you have to do.”

  “Okay. Let’s get together for a drink sometime, then. I’ll call you.”

  Ron went over to the hostess then and said something in her ear. Jessica saw that he pointed to them in a subtle way. The hostess nodded, and Ron bustled away.

  “Let’s just wait here for a few minutes,” Jonathan said.

  Before Jessica knew it, the hostess was coming to join them. “Your table is ready now, Mr. Randall.”

  “Was that the owner?” Jessica asked as they followed her to a black-lacquered corner table for two.

  “Yes,” said Jonathan. “I bring a lot of important clients here for lunch, so he’s returning the favor.” With a hand on the small of her back, he helped Jessica onto her tall, leather-seated stool.

  Their waitress walked up almost immediately, and Jessica saw that she was a beautiful Asian drag queen. Like the other servers, she wore a black suit. The place was trendier than the M.A.C salon in the Galleria. Looking at all the black clothes and hipness dehydrated Jessica, so she ordered plain water.

  “Are you sure?” Jonathan asked. “You don’t want a drink?”

  “Maybe in a little while.”

  While they waited for her water and his iced tea, Jessica didn’t know whether to focus on all the beautiful sushi on the menu or all the beautiful people seated around them. Rich-looking men and model-pretty women were everywhere. Lots of peroxide and implants. And lots of gorgeous bags. Jessica spotted the newest Dolce & Gabbana just two tables away.

  “The lotus roll is pretty good,” said Jonathan. “It’s lobster — cooked — and the bigger roe. But they can leave that off if you don’t like it.”

  Jessica glanced over her menu and saw that this lotus roll was twenty-nine dollars. And it didn’t even say how many pieces. “I don’t mind the eggs,” she said. “But I usually just get the tiger-eye.”

  “Is that all?” Jonathan said. “Come on. Order more than that, please, or I’ll look like a pig next to you.”

  The waitress had glided up and was waiting. Jessica told her, “I’ll have the tiger-eye, plus two salmons and one barbecued eel.”

  “There you go,” said Jonathan. “And we’ll also have a lotus, a dragon, one Cajun hand roll, and the Bayou City roll. And let’s try the Go ’Stros roll. And an order of toro, sashimi style. Oh, and another barbecued eel, please.”

  The waitress glided back to the kitchen. Jessica looked at Jonathan with a raised eyebrow.

  “We don’t have to eat it all,” he said innocently. “I just wanted you to taste all my favorites. This is my treat, by the way.”

  There was no way Jessica could have afforded the entire meal, but she wanted to at least offer to pay for part of it. “But you got the movie last time,” she protested. “And dinner. And the coffee the time before that.”

  “Did I?” He smiled. “All right. You treat next time, then.”

  The sushi was awesome. Jessica ate as much as she could without having to unzip her skirt. The owner had sent over a bottle of sake, and then Jonathan wanted to order another, but she’d had to refuse. She was already getting a buzz.

  They talked the whole time, picking up where they’d left off over coffee. This time, Jessica learned about Jonathan’s parents, his sister in Oklahoma, more about the volunteer work he did, and a little about his previous girlfriend, who’d moved back to Austin. He gave her so much personal history, it was as if he were trying to hurry and get all the questions out of the way. As if he were interviewing for the position of boyfriend.

  In return, Jessica told him a little more about herself. He seemed impressed that she’d been the first person in her family to get a degree. She told him how she’d worked at the Centro de Artes Culturales after graduating from college. She left out the part about her ex, Robert. “And then I went into insurance when Sabrina hooked me up at McCormick.”

  “Why’d you leave nonprofit?” he asked.

  “Because I figured out that I could get paid more as a corporate assistant than I got being the community center’s curator, receptionist, chauffeur, and maid. The only way to make any money in nonprofit is to get paid by the hour, as an artist or a teacher. Or as a grant writer who brings in the money for the artists and the teachers.”

  “That makes sense, I guess,” he said, pushing the last of the lobster roll to her side of the table. “It’s too bad they didn’t see your skills as an artist, though. Your face lights up when you talk about the people you helped.”

  She nodded thoughtfully, then said, “It’s too bad that lit-up faces don’t pay the rent.”

  He laughed. “You’re right. They don’t.”

  Maybe it was the sake, or maybe just the fact that it’d been weighing on her mind, but Jessica found herself telling Jonathan all about her department’s broker opening and her hopes of getting promoted. He seized on the subject like an underwriter on a new submission.

  “Right. Promote from within, then hire someone new to take on the lesser responsibilities. Of course. It’s good for compan
y morale. So why hasn’t your manager jumped on that chance?”

  “I don’t know. I’m starting to wonder if he just doesn’t think I’m broker material. Which would be ridiculous, because I practically do that job already. I could do it in my sleep.” She heard herself say this aloud and thought about the fact that she did feel like sleeping at work half the time. She pushed the thought aside. So it wouldn’t be the most exciting job in the world. But she’d already started down the path, so there was nothing to do but move forward.

  “Did he tell you flat out that he wouldn’t consider you for the position?” Jonathan asked.

  “No.”

  “Good, because that would’ve been really stupid on his part.” Jonathan turned steely-eyed as he bit into his eel and analyzed the situation. “So, basically, he’s not treating you like one of the guys. All you need to do is strengthen your pitch. Fine-tune your presentation. Drill down and modify your product to suit your client’s needs.”

  “How do I do that?” If nailing this promotion was as easy as Jonathan was making it sound, then he was her new hero, Jessica thought.

  He gave her an appraising look. “Let’s see. Do you dress the part? Yes — your business casual looks good. From what I know about your industry, it’s pretty old-school. Pretty OBN. But that shouldn’t be a problem, either. You’re not asking for a management position. . . .”

  He mulled it over. He looked at her face, but not with the date smile he’d been using so far. Now he was assessing her like a portfolio.

  “What do your boss and the other brokers do?” he asked. “As a work culture, I mean?”

  “As a . . . work culture? They sit around reading the paper and letting me do their work, mainly.”

  “Wall Street Journal?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  He smiled. “From what you’ve said, I can imagine their type. What else? I mean, do they do anything after work together? Take martini lunches? Where do they take their clients?”

  Jessica knew the answers but never would have thought they’d affect her job. “They host happy hours for the clients about once a month. Ted takes martini lunches, but only by himself. Mostly they play golf. Sometimes they take the clients to the Texans’ games, but mostly . . . they play golf.”

  “There it is. Can you play?”

  Jessica snorted. “Can you picture me playing golf?”

  “No. Maybe you could take your clients dancing at clubs instead.”

  Jessica laughed at the thought. “Okay, so, assuming golf is out, because I’d rather watch paint dry than play golf, what else could I do?”

  “Show up at the happy hours and football games. If they don’t invite you, find someone else in the company who will.”

  Jessica ate the last piece of lobster thoughtfully. She figured that it wouldn’t be too hard to find a buddy for the happy hours, at least. Tiffany Wyman on forty-two was always trying to get her to go along to those things.

  “You just need to get there and be yourself,” he continued. “Talk to everyone. Make them laugh, like you do with me. The clients will love you, and your manager will see that. In the meantime, you have to start reading The Wall Street Journal, plus any other business publications you can make time for. Find interesting articles that apply to your industry. Then, whenever you can get away with it, mention those articles in front of the boss. If you can hit the fine line — sounding informed as opposed to sounding like you’re brownnosing — then he’ll be impressed. Those two steps alone will be the most immediate way to change his perception of you. I guarantee it.”

  Jessica rearranged the ginger on her plate and sighed. This was starting to sound like real work. Spend her free time schmoozing with clients and reading business magazines? That was more than just a slight modification to her “product.” It was a complete lifestyle change.

  “So, basically,” she said, “what you’re telling me is, it isn’t enough to learn the job and do it well?”

  Jonathan’s smile became regretful. He shook his head. “Sorry. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But they’re not looking for someone who can do the job well. They’re looking for someone who can represent their brand to the clients. Someone who can take clients golfing and quote Alan Greenspan. The real work . . . that’s what they let their assistants do.”

  Jessica’s eyes went wide. No one had ever laid it all out so honestly for her before. The fact that it was an executive type telling her this made it that much more incredible. She felt as though her mind had been blown open — like that day in ninth grade when she’d finally understood quadratic equations. “Jonathan,” she said, “you totally rock. Thank you.”

  “Well, you’re welcome. I’m glad to help.”

  Jessica was glad she’d confided in Jonathan after all. Now she knew she could count on him for good advice.

  20

  After Ahi, they walked a block over to TBar for the Junior Ruiz show. Neither of them had been to that venue in a while, and Jessica saw immediately that it had gone way downhill. The air-conditioning seemed to be broken, and the floor was completely packed with kids in T-shirts and shorts, yelling at the house DJ onstage to play hip-hop.

  She could tell by Jonathan’s expression that he was willing to make the best of it and wait for Junior Ruiz to come onstage. She wasn’t, though.

  “Hey,” she said over the crowd noise, nudging him on the shoulder. “Want to get out of here?”

  “Do you?” he asked, suddenly alert to the possibility of her discomfort. “Okay. Where would you like to go?”

  “Let’s go back to your place and have that drink.”

  She could tell by his smile that he was pleasantly surprised. They left TBar as quickly as they’d arrived.

  “It’s right down the road,” Jonathan said as he drove them to his town house.

  And it was. He lived in one of the very best-looking town houses in midtown — one of the new red brick ones Jessica often looked at longingly on her way to clubs with Toby.

  He parked on the street and led her up to the door. Inside, the first thing she noticed was the beautiful hardwood floor. Next was the way he’d decorated. There were only a few pieces of furniture, and they were all oversize dark wood. On the bottom floor he had an entertainment center, a rolltop desk, a coffee table, and two espresso-colored leather couches. There was a powder room tucked under the stairs. It was nice, and everything was in good taste, Jessica thought, but it really needed a woman’s touch. She mentally put plants in the corners and drapes on the windows.

  After they’d gone in a few steps and he’d taken her purse and set it on the desk, she saw that he also had a small piano, near the stainless-steel-filled kitchen, where the dining room would be.

  He saw her looking and smiled sheepishly. “My mother made me take lessons. Would you like something to drink?”

  She accepted a glass of the same wine he poured for himself. “Show me the rest of your place.”

  The second floor was his bedroom and master bath. He had a king-size bed, “to fill all the space,” he said, with a down comforter covered in gray cotton. There was a dresser and a nightstand and not much else. A sliding glass door led to a small balcony that faced the back of another town house, across a small courtyard.

  By then, Jessica couldn’t help doing her interior designing aloud. “You could put a painting above the headboard,” she said, holding up her hands to show him the dimensions she had in mind. “Something abstract, in blue and black, maybe, with a white mat and teak frame.”

  He smiled. “I’ve been thinking that, too — that I need to buy some prints or paintings. Maybe you can come shopping with me and help me pick them out.”

  Jessica nodded. She would like very much to do that — his place was too beautiful to go without proper decoration.

  The third floor was nothing but a small, empty room and a big, empty balcony. At least the view was better there. They could see part of the downtown skyline, between the silhouettes of the othe
r town houses.

  Jessica was surprised at the weird use of space. “It kind of tapers as you go up, huh?”

  “I know,” said Jonathan. “It looks a lot bigger on the outside.”

  “It’s awesome, though,” Jessica said. “I would kill to have a place like this.” Suddenly it occurred to her that maybe he never wanted to stay at her place for long because it was nowhere near as nice as his. And, really, who could blame him, she thought.

  They went back down to the living room, where Jonathan put on some music.

  “You don’t want to play me something on the piano?” Jessica teased.

  He made a face. “No. Sorry. I’m really rusty.” He sat on the couch next to her, then immediately jumped up again. “Are you hungry? Do you want something else to drink?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Now that he was no longer showing her around and there was nothing to do but sit and be alone together, she noticed that he seemed a little nervous. Instead of making her nervous, though, this put her at ease. She hadn’t realized before that he might be shy about kissing her. She found it a little flattering.

  Looking around the room for something to put him at ease, she noticed a photo album on his half-empty bookshelf. “Show me your pictures,” she said.

  Relieved, he brought over the album and showed her pictures of his parents, sister, and friends. Jessica couldn’t help but smile. They were all good-looking, like him. They looked like people from TV commercials.

  “And this is Andy. I’ve known him since fifth grade.” Jonathan indicated a photo of a guy in fishing gear. There were other pictures of Jonathan with this guy and others, in a boat and in front of a tent. “We’re going camping again tomorrow. Otherwise I would have asked you to do something else this weekend. Hey, do you like camping?”

  Jessica smiled regretfully. “Not really. Camping itself is okay, I guess, but the bugs and the lack of clean showers kind of gross me out.”

  He laughed. “Well, that’s true. I guess I won’t invite you to join us tomorrow, then.”