Hooked 4 (Hooked #4)(10)

I passed by a park and walked toward the bench, allowing myself to do a bit of people watching. I watched as a young couple held hands, playing hooky from wherever they were meant to be. I watched as a grandmother helped her grandson out of his small carriage and held his hand as he waddled toward the playground. I took bite after bite of burrito, feeling vital, energetic. Like I could take on the world.

My phone started to ring in my pocket. I grabbed it, leaning the burrito on my leg. “Hello?” I said, trying not to make it sound like I had rice in my mouth.

“Hello? Molly? Is that you?” It was Drew. I wanted to laugh out loud.

“Drew! I met Hector! He’s wonderful.”

“Ah, yes. Today is the day of the one hundred burritos. Not a great day to meet him, but a good day to see him in action. He’s usually much, much more chill.”

“I loved him,” I said. “He gave me a burrito.”

“Well. You are privileged today, aren’t you?”

“Mm hmm. How are things on your end?”

“Fine, of course.” I could hear something in the background. Was that a drill? What were they doing?

“Construction?”

“Yeah. I’m covered in dust, actually. It’s pretty gross.”

I tried to find a smile but I couldn’t. I took another bite of burrito, wondering why he’d called. My face grew hot.

“Anyway. I wanted to call you because—because I want to take you out to dinner tonight. A high-end restaurant called Maggiano’s. It’s downtown, on the water.”

I looked around me at the beautiful, sunlit day. I blinked heavily, falling into his words. Did this mean he wanted to be with me? Be a couple with me? “I’d love to go. What time do you want to pick me up?”

“I’ll get out of here around five, which gives me a few hours to get myself together. I can pick you up around seven-thirty?”

“I’ll see you then,” I murmured once more. I hung up the phone and wrapped the rest of my burrito in aluminum. I tucked it into my small bag and walked out of the park, away from the running children, away from the beautiful, stunning Chicago architecture.

I ducked back into my apartment building, wondering what I would wear. I wrapped my arms around my cat, breathing an even sigh into his neck. He squirmed for a moment before resigning himself to his fate. He began licking his paw as I held him, staring into my closet.

My mother had once lent me a beautiful, black dress from her days in the 80’s. I allowed it to hang in my closet all the time because it reminded me of a different person, a woman I’d never met—but perhaps one I would have loved in a different sort of way. My mother was a blonde beauty. She’d had big dreams, big desires, but my father had trapped her in Indianapolis, and there she stayed. But when I imagined her wearing that dress, traipsing around, I felt so happy, so free. I pulled the dress up over my breasts, loving the way the tight dress hugged my curves. Luckily, I didn’t have to wear my hair the way my mother had—in a tight almost-fro. But I curled the ends, making my hair look full and brimming with vitality.


I rushed around, realizing that it was nearly seven-thirty, that he was on his way. I strapped shoes on my feet—great, black heels—and smeared make-up on my face. I grinned at myself in the mirror, knowing that tonight was going to be the night. I remembered all the romantic, sexual flings we’d had the past month. Tonight, it was going to be different. Tonight, it was going to mean something.

I brushed my teeth last, as Boomer started meowing. I stomped to the window and peered down, seeing the bright Porsche glowing at the entrance of the building. I grabbed my coat and flew down the steps, all the way to the first floor. I walked slowly, then, not wanting to seem too eager. I saw him on the other side of the door, looking so cool, so casual.

I met him as he opened the door for me. His jaw dropped when he saw me. “Oh my god. You look incredible.” He leaned down and kissed me on the lips, romantically. I felt it deep in my body. I longed to rough him up in the front Porsche seat.

But we both looked too good for that. I cleared my throat and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for picking me up. And, of course, for the burrito.”

“I think you mean to thank Hector, but yes. Sure.” He winked at me and we walked toward the Porsche. He opened the door for me and I slid into the front seat, staring up at the sky. The sun had already careened into the horizon, leaving the city in darkness.

Drew cranked up the engine and the speakers and took us downtown. I brought my hand over to him and held it on the manual shift. He smiled at me. “So. You liked sleeping in my bed last night, at my new place?”

“I loved it,” I said, laying my head back on the seat.

“Me too,” he whispered. He held my hand as we pushed toward the restaurant, stopping and starting all the way.

Maggiano’s was a beautiful Italian restaurant not far from the museums. It was situated just on the water, with great big windows spanning the length of the restaurant and giving a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. The host brought us in through the grand entrance, and I caught my breath with the view of the lights from the boats shining over the water. I could even see the stars.

“It is one of the best views in all of Chicago,” the host stated as he pulled the chair out for me. I sat, thanking him.

Drew sat on the other side of the small table by the window, and he ordered wine right away—an aged Italian red. The host said, “Right away sir,” with a little bow, and then he left us alone, a large flickering candle between us.