Page 77 of Total Exposure

“How many?” the woman asks. “Just one?”

I realize the bustle of the crowd has pushed me into the door of the cafe and the woman asking me how many is actually the hostess. “Yes,” I manage to spit out. “Just one.”

She scans the room. Every table is full, and I feel stupid all of a sudden. Like… how did I not anticipate that the restaurant would be filled to capacity when it’s lunchtime?

“Well,” the young girl finally says. “There’s a gentleman over there sitting alone. Do you want me to go ask him if he’d mind sharing with you?”

“Oh, no… uh…” I stammer out my objections. “I don’t think—“

“He won’t mind.” And then the hostess laughs. “In fact, he told me when he came in if anyone needed a seat, he’s happy to share.”

She bustles off before I can answer, but I watch, in utter horror, as she approaches the man, points to me, and then they talk. About me. As they look. At me.

I turn to flee and bump right into a man’s chest. Dark wool overcoat. Leather-gloved hands reach out to steady me. Firm grip on my shoulders. And when I raise my eyes to see who is blocking my way, I realize it’s Jordan.

I whirl back around, and the hostess is there, grabbing a menu. “Come on,” she says. “He’s happy to help.”

I follow her for no other reason than I cannot think of a single other thing to do. I just obey automatically. On autopilot.

Just get me away from the man I came to see.

The hostess stops at the table and pans her hand towards the empty chair. “Here you go. Have fun, you two!”

She leaves and I’m stuck there. I don’t look at the man I’m supposed to be sitting with because I’m too busy looking back at Jordan. He catches my gaze, which almost sends me into a panic, so I sit down and turn my head away. Right into the direct gaze of my table stranger.

“Uh… hi,” the guy says. “I’m Mike. And you are?”

He extends his hand, but all I can do is stare at it. So it’s withdrawn just as fast. “Angela,” I say, reverting back to my stand-by public persona.

“Nice to meet you, Angela. Do you work around here?”

I look at him, thankful I still have my scarf over my face and my sunglasses covering my eyes. Just be normal. Just be normal. I chant it in my head. “Yes,” I lie. “At the courthouse. I’m new. First day.”

There you go, I say to myself. Good job.

“Well, you’re part of the crowd now.” He laughs. “Everyone eats here at lunch. It gets pretty busy around this time. And I always eat alone, so I offer up my table when I can.”

“Thank you,” I say, remembering my manners.

“So what kind of food do you like?”

I chance a glance over at Jordan. He’s still looking at me, so I play it off like I was just scanning the room, then remember I have a menu I can pretend to study.

“Sandwiches,” I reply to the man’s question.

“You should definitely get the club then. It’s fantastic. They put a little avocado on there. Really, really good.”

“What can I get you to drink?” a waitress asks.

I look up at her, ready to die from all this very sudden, very intimate attention, and blurt, “Water and I’ll take the club sandwich.”

“Coming right up,” she says, taking my menu away with a smile.

“So…” My impromptu date seems to be chatty. And I think in my head, Why me? “You’ll probably have to take your scarf off if you want to eat.”

“Right,” I say, slowly unwrapping my scarf. It would draw far more attention to keep it on than it will to take it off. At least that’s what I tell myself. But the whole time I’m sneaking glances over at Jordan, wishing I wasn’t stuck talking to this guy instead of him.

“Do you know him?” the guy asks.