Chapter 9

NINE

MARIA

I lift my fork to my lips; a slight tremble makes the tines scrape my teeth as I try and force down the chicken, I have no idea what the dish I'm eating is. I slice quick glances at him, he tries to make small talk, find out more about me. My likes and dislikes, a normal date.

Awkward. That's the only way I can describe dinner, the silence between us uncomfortable and taxing. There's an uneasy darkness in his eyes and face, something he doesn't want to admit to himself?

I'm not sure what I expect or want from him or myself. My thoughts and feelings all over the place. When I gaze at Cal a fluttering in my abdomen starts, flowing to my heart where it fills. That's the problem. With what?

He's so attractive with a sharp jaw and a bit of scruff. My ex is good looking but he can never compare to Cal. I can't see him ever leaving his wife when she was alive. I mean he was by her side for every operation and chemo visit. I heard he was with her through all her sickness with it. To me the guy's a hero.

"Cal, I don't think this is a good idea." A cement block sits in my chest at the thought of how this date has gone so far. I wish I was the confident, no nonsense, order giving doctor when I'm going out with men, instead I act like a simpering submissive idiot who can't speak for herself.

He swipes a hand down his face as if he's so tired he can't go on. My heart does more than bend for him, it cracks into pieces. I'm not sure how or what I feel for him. Do I have that heart gripping hold in my chest I've never had before but I've read about in romance novels? I don't have a lot of sexual experience, my ex wasn't very good and he never gave me orgasms. He wouldn't go down there so I never did for him. Maybe that was our death knell.

"Yeah, this isn't turning out how I wanted it to. I have. I have a lot on my mind. I think we should still go to the night club though. Try to make our night better, what do you say?"

I'm not sure, I think I see a lonely yearning on his face, his eyes go blank as if he's searching inward for something he can't find. If anything I can be a friend for him. Guys would just give him shit but if he's thinking of a woman he wouldn't be interested in hunting for pussy. I might not know a lot about sex, I understand men. I've worked with enough of them the last few years I've been with the panthers and know how they edge each other. He might need a gentler approach to open up, I can give him that and maybe I can help him.

Not sure how this will end up tonight but we can try, I nod wanting to help him erase the sadness from his body language. I think the best way is to finish this meal and get back to the limo where we can talk. I'm not a psychiatrist but I am understanding.

I take another bite and see he's not eating, I think this meal is done. The restaurant is exclusive and impossible to get into without a six month reservation but Cal got us in, only problem is the food tastes like sawdust, it's not their fault. It's ours.

"Let's go."

"But…" He starts and looks at my half empty plate and his. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry I ruined your evening." He runs a fast hand through his hair, exasperation in every line of his lean, muscled body. "I have something on my mind."

"We can talk about it if you want. I'm a good listener." We stand one right after the other, he hands his black card off to the waiter who suddenly appears. He slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks, rocking from heels to toes while he waits. I stand still, my hands tug on the material at my waist.

My gaze skates over the restaurant, the murmur of voices is too much for me, the clamor from both the kitchen and the people enjoying themselves is giving me a headache. This is a never ending day and it's going to be even longer.

We walk to the front, the waiter runs up with the card and Cal takes it and slips it into his front pocket, handing him a wad of bills with one hand, he's talking with the limo driver with the other and we continue our way out. He helps me into the car and he follows me inside.

"Cara." Is all he says, I have to assume that's a club. Cal reaches his hand out to me, I gaze down at it, we're not a couple, only on a date now as friends, I put my hand in his. This ride is still uncomfortable, with unspoken words and lingering tension.

"Cal, I get the feeling you're hiding something? Or there's something going on you're trying to bury deep inside you so you can't think of it again? Tell me. I'm not only your doctor I hope I'm your friend."

His body language looks unconcerned with his legs spread and arms over the back of the seat, I see a tension in his tight neck and back. "I don't know what you're talking about Maria. I'm fine."

The limo pulls over and stops. I lean forward and out the darkened windows to a tall building of metal and dark windows as if the owners don't want anyone to see what's going on inside.

"Um, Cal what is this place?"

He waves a limp hand as if weary of it all, "this is the club Cara. Very exclusive. I had a hard time getting an invite." He twists his neck one way, then the other and down, a loud crack fills the inside of the car.

"Yeah, you're fine all right." I mock his words right back at him.

He strikes me with a glare and I have a hard time holding back a grin. Cal needs to get a grip on what's bothering him, it's hurting his baseball.

"Cal, you need to talk about whatever is bothering you. That's the only reason you were taken out of the game today."

"No, my arm was bothering me." He reaches out to open the door, I grab his other arm holding him back.

"Your shoulder wasn't any worse than usual." Cal stares down at my hand on his arm and gazing back up at me.

"Let's go in." Is all he says, opening the door and sliding out, waiting for me, his hand outstretched. I heave a sigh, cursing in my head about stubborn men and the best way for them to die. This isn't over, I will get it out of him.

He holds my hand in his, leading me past the line of wanna be's, to the bouncer. I lean close to Cal, "I thought you had to get invited."

The bouncer's eyes widen seeing Cal, waving him through without even asking his name. Must be a baseball fan.

"Did you notice all those in the line were women? The men have to have invites but the prettiest women are allowed in. More drinks sold I guess the crazier they get." His eyes stalk the huge two-story room, couples dancing, single women dancing and groups of women dancing. Music blares from every corner, lights flash with every primary color. Waitresses walk wearing short maid outfits and male waiters have no shirts and tight pants for women to ogle if they want. I've never seen anything like this except on tv or in a book. I've spent so long becoming a doctor and then a specialist that's all I know.

Cal points upstairs where I hope it's a little quieter so we can talk. I give him a nod of agreement and we make our way up the stairs. It is slightly quieter, the tables further apart. They're all filled until one couple starts arguing and she gets up, flouncing away shooting her partner glares filled with poisonous arrows.

We go to the now empty table and a waitress comes over clearing the glasses off and wiping it down. "I'll be with you in a moment. I just have to get rid of these." She gives us a beaming smile I would not be able to accomplish after working here even an hour.

"So." I lean my forearms on the table not caring if I look unglamorous. He spares me a single, quick glance and rolls his eyes at me. "I'm not going to stop so don't roll your eyes at me. I know I'm not a psychotherapist, maybe I can help though. Try me. Cal please. I won't tell anyone anything you tell me. Still doctor patient."

He rolls his bottom lip out, his teeth bite lightly at the inside skin, looking at me. Considering what I told him. I meet his eyes not looking away. I mean it.

"Okay, I'm trusting you. It's something dark."

I raise my eyebrows not understanding what he's talking about.

"You've met my stepdaughter, Carrie?"

"Yeeesss." I draw the word out still not understanding where he's going with this.

"Well, when she came back for summer break she…" Cal stops when the waitress appears to take our drink orders. I don't drink much.

"I'll have a glass of white wine." I'll have that glass last as long as we're here.

"Bourbon. Neat. Double."

My eyebrows take flight even higher; he glances at me; a slight smile teases his lips. "Not driving. Right?"

I lean back in my chair, nerves make my stomach shiver and I push my doctor professionalism to the forefront, rising my chin and thrusting my finger at him. "I'm not your mother."

That earns me a full-on belt of laughter from him, the tension between us easing. The strain softening on his face and body, finally starting to relax. "Yeah, didn't think so."

I crook a finger, leaning forward as if to tell him a secret. He falls for it leaning toward me, "spill."

Cal flops back into his chair, a huge sigh bounces his body and lucky for him the waitress returns with our drinks, "here you go."

We smile and nod our thanks, I wait for her to leave, waving my hand for him to go ahead and hurry. With freak exaggeration he rolls his eyes, "I don't want to hear anything about how sick this sounds."

I raise my eyebrows and wait, not patiently at all.

"Well, it's my stepdaughter. Emphasis on step."

"Okay so what's wrong with her? Isn't she in her twenties or something?" I don't understand what the problem is or what it can be. She's an adult.

"Yeah, that's the problem. We kind of. Um." He's so uncomfortable. "We're attracted to each other." His words run out as if he can force them out fast enough.

I slowly move my head from side to side. "And the problem?"

"You don't see a problem that I'm her stepfather? I took care of her since she was ten." He's trying to understand why I don't care.

"Why should I or anyone else care? You're not related to her. You're both adults. It's nobody else's business. If they think it is, fuck them."

His face is crumpled, jaw ticking in consternation.

"Cal, listen to me. It. Doesn't matter. What anyone else thinks."

He nods, still not completely sure I'm right but hope slightly brightens his face. I wish I had that small bit of hope for my life.