Page 97 of Total Exposure

I seethe. What the ever-loving fuck is going on with this day?

“Just one today?” the hostess asks me.

“Yes,” I manage to say, somewhat civilly, I might add. “Table for one.” I say it loud. Loud enough that Mike over near the window hears me and once again glances in my direction, but then quickly looks away, pretending I’m not even here as he talks to the woman across from him like they’re together or something. When I know good and goddamned well he’s got no girlfriend because just yesterday he was trying to get me to go out with him.

Huh. So that’s his game. He’s with someone who will go out with him for drinks after work. Good. Good for him. I’m not here to see him, anyway. I’m here to see Jordan.

“Right this way,” the hostess says.

So I follow her, and she takes me all the way to the back, in the shadows, where a goddamned tree in a pot is blocking my view of the door. And I really want to say, Hey, can I have another table? You know, like a good one? But I realize there’s no other tables. This is the last one. And I’m probably lucky I didn’t have to cajole Mike into letting me sit at his table as a third wheel.

So I shut up, sit down, and order the stupid club with the magic avocado and wait for Jordan to appear.

But he doesn’t.

An hour later, I’m still there, my club sandwich reduced to a bit of bread crust, and the lunch crowd has all gone back to work. Alone. As usual.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” my waitress asks.

“No,” I say, no longer manic with purpose, but defeated with disappointment. “Just the check.”

Which she has ready, pulling it out of her apron pocket and setting it on the table, like I’ve been sitting here too long and she’s been waiting for me to disappear so she can seat someone else.

I pay and go outside, ready to just get in a cab and go the hell home, and… there’s no cabs. Not one in sight.

So I start walking towards the Botanic Gardens, because at least I live next to a major landmark and there’s signs everywhere, hoping for a cab. But every single one of them passes me by. Because of course they do. This is like everyone-needs-a-cab day and they all have passengers already.

By the time I stumble through the gardens nearly an hour later, I’m dead tired.

But hopeful.

Hopeful that Ix is at home, waiting for me, perhaps out of his mind with worry.

But when I key in the code to the gate I feel despair washing over me. And when I get inside and look up at the chandelier bulb, I know. I feel it in my gut.

He’s not even here.

I drop my purse on the floor and only then realize… I left my gloves and scarf in the cab on the way over to the coffee house.

I walked all the way home uncovered except for sunglasses and a coat. And I didn’t even notice.

This should make me feel good. That finally there is something in my life that trumps my stupid fear of being watched.

But I wasn’t even seen today.

I was nobody.

Mike didn’t even see me.

Ix has left me.

And all I want right now is to be seen by him.

I go upstairs. All the way upstairs. Take off my clothes, lie on the bed naked, and then fish the blindfold out from under the pillow and tie it around my eyes.

I will wait, I decide.

I will wait just like this until he comes for me.