The work week passed slowly for Sarah. She had just been assigned to a new project, and while she would have normally been ecstatic, she just couldn't seem to focus on anything except her run in with James at the Hollywood Bowl last weekend.
She still held on to the bent business card that he had somehow managed to slip into her pocket, but every time she sat down next to her phone to call, she froze up. What if he didn't want her to call? Of course he wanted her to call, or else he wouldn't have so slyly put his card in her jeans. What if he turned out to be a total creep? What if he was after more than she could promise? Like the last, what, five guys she had dated? Sarah rolled her eyes as she reasoned with herself.
She would be lying to herself if she said she didn't find him attractive. Who wouldn't? With that slim figure and that unruly blond hair and those strange eyes that looked just like—
"Hey Sarah, mind giving me a hand here?" Her coworker Kevin was precariously holding a stack of binders filled to the brim with manuscripts, and they looked as if they could topple over at any moment.
"Jesus, of course," Sarah said, snapping out of her reverie and rushing over to take some of the binders off Kevin's hands. "Where do you need these?"
"Just over there." He motioned with his head to what Sarah assumed was the table on the opposite end of the office. "Thanks, Sarah."
"No problem, Kevin." She sighed as she put down the binders, and put her hands on her hips. "How have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you since that gallery opening. Which was phenomenal, by the way."
"Oh, same old same old," he replied, seeming to relish the opportunity for some office small talk. "It really was a fun gallery, wasn't it? Did you see that labyrinth piece? Talk about incredible!"
Sarah paused. She wondered how much she should tell him. Yeah Kevin, actually, I ran into the artist at the Hollywood Bowl last weekend and was more or less his date?! No, that would require way too much explanation. "Yeah, the attention to detail was unprecedented," she started. "I actually happened to meet the artist while we were there..." she chose her words carefully. "Do you know much about him?"
Kevin's eyebrows shot up, and he dropped the binder he had been mindlessly sifting through. "James Conroy? You met James Conroy? By 'met' do you mean you actually talked to him?"
Sarah was confused now. "Yes...I talked to him. What, is that a big deal? I'd never heard of the guy before I saw that piece." Definitely never heard of him. Never seen him. Definitely.
Her coworker brought his hand to his chin, as if he was thinking of how to carefully phrase his next words. "Well, I don't want to say too much," he started cryptically.
"Oh come on," Sarah interrupted, trying her best not to sound too desperate. "You've gotta tell me now. Is it something scandalous? Is he a criminal?" Why her mind thought of those two words specifically, she wasn't sure. 'Does he steal babies and turn them into goblins?' she thought with a laugh.
"No, no, nothing like that," Kevin continued. He now seemed intensely focused on the office's carpet flooring. "He's actually kind of an architectural prodigy." He returned to flipping through a binder on the table.
Sarah turned her lips down in confusion. "What's the problem with that? That's pretty neat, right?"
"Well, he has...a history, of sorts." He looked up at her and sighed when he saw how intrigued she was. "I don't know Sarah, I've only heard rumors from the gallery owner. It could all be fake." He paused, concerned by her sudden intensity. "Anyway, what's got you so interested?"
"Oh, no reason," she said much too quickly for it to be convincing.
Kevin rolled his eyes and smirked at her. "Okay, cool, then I guess I don't have to go around spreading rumors about famous architects," he shrugged.
Sarah let out a sigh of frustration. "All right, Kev, be that way." She knew he didn't like being called that.
He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just not the right person to ask, that's all I mean. I don't know the whole story. Maybe you should ask him yourself, if you really want to know. I hear he recently moved to LA from London for a long term residence at a firm downtown."
"Is that right?" She feigned disinterest, snapping one of the binders shut.
When Sarah got home that evening, she immediately powered on her computer and threw herself into her leather office chair. After about a minute, she clicked her mouse a dozen times, even while knowing that it wouldn't do any good. "Hurry up," she muttered to her PC. Ludo jumped up into her lap, taking up the entirety of it, and she scratched behind his ears absentmindedly.
She wasn't entirely sure how to approach this. She opened her email client and watched as the cursor blinked, taunting her. She hesitantly placed her fingers on the keyboard.
Dear James,
I found the card you put in my pocket. I guess you know that, or else you wouldn't be reading this.
That was stupid. She held her finger down on the backspace button and started over.
Dear James,
You look just like this guy I saw in a dream once when I was a teena
She held down the backspace button again. That would definitely scare him off. Why was this so difficult? She took a deep breath and tried once more.
Dear James,
I'd like to get to know you better. I usually don't say that to men who sneak their cards into my pocket. But then again, not many do.
-Sarah
Her finger lingered for just a moment before hitting the send button. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and leaned back in her chair, causing it to roll away from her desk. "Ludo, this is crazy," she said very seriously as she looked her cat in the eye. He made a short chirrup noise, but promptly went back to purring in her lap. "You wouldn't understand."
Sarah sat there for a while, lost in thought. When would he see her email? What would he think? Would he even respond? She cursed herself over how giddy she was getting about all of this. He was just a guy, it wasn't a big deal. Sure, he had a cool accent, was obviously pretty well off, and was apparently into her, if he had gone through the trouble of hiding his business card in her clothes. The thought made Sarah blush.
A ping sound came from Sarah's computer, and she was so startled that she sent Ludo tumbling from her lap. She clumsily rolled her chair forward and leaned in toward the screen. That was fast.
Dear Sarah,
I am quite pleased that we are in mutual agreement about the subject. Name the place and time, and I will be there.
-J
She let out a silent scream. Of course he put the meeting place on her. She racked her brain for ideas of where they could meet. Definitely somewhere public—the something about him that excited her also unsettled her—and also somewhere neutral. Downtown was too tricky, the west side was too far. Then, a thought came to her, and she snapped her fingers and started to type.
James,
How about the La Brea Tar Pits, this Saturday, 2:00 pm. Have you been there?
-Sarah
The Tar Pits were exactly what they sounded like—pits of tar thousands of years old, still exposed, that had become an archaeological hub as well as a tourist attraction. There was even a museum on site. Sarah hadn't been there since she first moved to LA several years ago.
Not a minute later, another ping.
Sarah,
I haven't been, but am quite interested. Let's call it a date. I'll see you then.
-J
She guessed that one didn't warrant a response. Sarah bit her thumb. It would be a long two days until Saturday.
