First course, p.5
First Course, page 5
“You have a date with the chef?” Darlene asked in disbelief. “You are blowing off a chance to seal this deal with Leigh so you can carouse with a cook?”
Carrie smiled and leaned into Darlene’s ear. “I think you can close tonight’s deal without any help from me,” she whispered. “Just remember to fix your lipstick when you’re done,” she said, then turned and walked away, leaving Darlene dumbstruck.
***
“You are making that up.” Devon laughed.
“Nope. I am not.”
“You are seriously named after Carrie Fisher?”
“I swear to God. And, my twin brother is named after Harrison Ford. They chose Ford because my dad was afraid people would call him Harry.”
“Stop!”
“I can’t make this up,” Carrie said. She sipped her wine and giggled at the expression on Devon’s face.
“So, your dad worked on Star Wars?”
“Yep. The first one. He was one those guys in a funny hat.”
“You mean a Stormtrooper?”
“No,” Carrie laughed. “He’d be more likely to get cast as a Jawa. Kind of surprised he didn’t.”
“He’s short?” Devon guessed.
“He’s vertically challenged.”
“Huh,” Devon mused silently.
“A rebel,” Carrie held up her finger in proclamation.
“What?”
“That’s what he was—a rebel.”
Devon nodded. “So, he was in the movies, and he’s a fan?”
“Enough to name me and my brother Carrie and Ford.”
“Your mom rolled with that?” Devon asked.
“Trust me, with the things my mom loves, we were probably lucky,” Carrie rolled her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she likes gemstones, and she has a strange obsession with old cartoons.”
“So, what? You think she would have named you Opal or something?”
“Maybe. Worse, we might have been Rocky and Bullwinkle,” Carrie deadpanned. Devon spewed the wine in her mouth across the living room. Carrie shrugged and took another sip from her glass. “Yeah, but who would be Rocky and who would be Bullwinkle?” Devon asked, wiping some wine from her chest.
“My point exactly.”
Devon laughed. “So, you’re telling me that you inherited the Star Wars gene?”
“I don’t know. I think, more than anything it will always remind me of growing up. My dad loved it. We grew up watching it.”
“So, your dad was an actor.”
“Hell no,” Carrie laughed. “He was a mechanic.”
“Come again.”
“He was. He was in London staying with his uncle when they were filming Star Wars. I guess, my Uncle Ben worked at the studios where they shot the interior scenes. He somehow got my dad to wear that crazy hat.” Carrie rolled her eyes.
“Your Uncle’s name is Ben?”
“I know, right? It was like destiny or something,” Carrie agreed. “I think Dad loved it so much because that’s how he met my mom.”
“Your mom was in Star Wars?”
“No,” Carrie chuckled. “She was in London, though. She lived next door to my Uncle Ben.”
“I swear to God if you tell me her name was Leia…”
“Gwen,” Carrie replied. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Devon leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes.
“Tired?” Carrie asked her friend.
“Surprisingly—no,” Devon opened one eye. “Relaxed.”
“I should let you get some rest.”
Devon sat up. “If you are tired…”
Carrie was tired, but she didn’t want to leave. She’d enjoyed every moment with Devon, although she felt as if her life had dominated their conversation most of the evening. “I would get sleepy listening to my life as it was told too,” Carrie joked.
“What? Are you kidding? How many people can say their dad was a mechanic?”
Carrie heaved a throw pillow at her friend. “Seriously, Dev, you’ve had a long day.”
“So have you.”
“True.”
“Carrie?”
“Hum?”
“How did you end up here? I mean here in Connecticut?”
“College,” Carrie replied. “That’s also where I met Dar.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“Yale.”
Devon sighed, but her smile grew. “You’re a brainiac.”
“Hardly.”
“Yale? Carrie, the closest I got to Yale was the bar down the street,” Devon said with a snicker. She watched as Carrie’s eyes suddenly found her wine glass interesting. “Hey, I’m kidding. I’m actually not that dumb.”
Carrie looked back at Devon. She had been teased many times about her scholarly achievements. She hated that her hard work sometimes made other people feel they needed to justify their path. Devon was clearly intelligent. She wasn’t only intelligent; Devon was also charming, funny, and from Carrie’s vantage point, beautiful. “You are nowhere close to dumb, Devon.”
Devon winked at Carrie. “See what I mean? I have you fooled already.”
“What about you?” Carrie wanted to know. “What landed you here?”
“Me? I had the good fortune to grow up in the area. Well, Fairfield to be exact. That’s how I met Solo.”
“Who?”
“Bruce,” Devon clarified.
“You call your business partner Solo, and you find it hard to believe I am named after Carrie Fisher?”
“It’s a long story. Nuts and bolts? He used to like to call me Princess. One day, when we were kids, he decided he’d show off and climb this old oak tree in my parents’ yard. I told him he would get stuck. He never listened. Still doesn’t in most cases,” Devon offered. “He got stranded. I saved his ass. He had the nerve to call me Princess again. I called him Solo.”
“Interesting,” Carrie said.
“See, you are not the only closet Star Wars geek.”
“Yeah, in my case, I gave up that closet about the same time I did the other one,” Carrie said.
Devon swallowed hard at the confirmation. She had guessed that Carrie was a lesbian, but until now, that’s all it had been—a guess “Oh? When was that?” Devon tried to act casual.
“Around birth, I think.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve always been out?”
“No. I just have never really been in,” Carrie replied.
“Help me here.”
“I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s kind of like everyone always knew.”
“That you were a…”
“Lesbian who had Yoda on her lunchbox?” Carrie snickered.
“Oh, funny,” Devon said. “I can’t say I can relate.”
“Afraid to let anyone know you had a thing for Skywalker?”
“I did, his sister anyway,” Devon said.
Carrie grinned. “I guess we have a few things in common.”
“I guess we do.”
Carrie began to pull herself from her place on the sofa. “It’s late. I really should let you get some sleep.” She started to head toward Devon’s kitchen with her wine glass.
Devon stepped up, took the wine glass from Carrie’s hand, and set it on the coffee table. “I’ll take care of it. I’m glad you decided to come over.”
Carrie smiled. “Me too.”
Devon wondered if Carrie was suddenly feeling as awkward as she was. She couldn’t recall a time in recent memory when she had enjoyed herself as much. It was ironic; Carrie’s request for a last minute private affair at D & B’s had flipped Devon and Bruce into high gear—Devon most of all. She’d been scurrying all week to put things in order for the event. The restaurant had not been prepared to execute a last-minute banquet. Somehow, Devon had managed to pull it off. She’d run herself ragged in the process. Normally, that would have made Devon irritable, if not downright foul. Carrie’s calls, and Devon’s excuses to call Carrie throughout the week had made the experience tolerable. In fact, Devon had found herself laughing and smiling through most of it. She suddenly found herself worrying that this might be the end.
“So,” Carrie broke the uncomfortable silence. “How does Thursday look for you?”
“I’m sorry?” Devon was pulled from her private thoughts.
“For pizza,” Carrie said. “I promised you dinner. You, for God knows what reason, seem hell bent on pizza. I’m leaving for Boston for two days on Monday. How does Thursday look?”
“Thursday is great.” Thursday was not great in point of fact. Thursday was Bruce’s day off. “Oh, well,” Devon mused privately.
“Good. I’ll give you a call, and we can work out the details.”
Devon nodded and followed Carrie to her front door. Another stall to the conversation, and Devon reluctantly opened the door for Carrie to walk through. “I’ll talk to you this week,” Devon said.
“You will,” Carrie promised. She offered Devon a wink and stepped off the porch.
Devon watched as Carrie opened the door to her car. She waved goodbye one last time and headed back inside the house. Why, Devon wondered; did Thursday feel a lifetime away?
***
Carrie shoved a few folders into her briefcase and turned off her computer.
“Leaving now?” Darlene poked her head in the door.
“Yeah, later than I planned.”
“Carrie,” Darlene stepped into the office.
“Yeah?”
Darlene sighed. “I’m sorry about Friday night.”
Carrie nodded. She had avoided Darlene’s calls all weekend. “I appreciate that.”
“How was your date?” Darlene asked.
“It wasn’t a date, Dar,” Carrie replied.
“No?”
“Devon is a friend. Last I knew, I was allowed to have those.”
Darlene sighed. No one knew her better than Carrie, and no one else accepted her as completely. She had landed in Leigh Matthews bed that weekend. And, as usual, it had been less than satisfactory in the end. Leigh was a challenge. Darlene had conquered the challenge. She had sealed the deal in more than one way. Mission accomplished. It suddenly held little interest for her. Another account in the hopper. Another conquest in the bedroom. Life had always been defined by challenges for Darlene. She’s even attempted to add Carrie to that list once. Carrie had rebuked her good-naturedly. Dar flopped into a chair that sat in front of Carrie’s desk and sighed.
“Do you want me to grovel?”
A smile edged its way onto Carrie’s lips. “That would be a good start.”
Darlene fell to her knees. “I’m sorry….”
“Get up, you idiot,” Carrie laughed.
Darlene complied and sat on the edge of Carrie’s desk. “You like her; don’t you?” she guessed. Carrie grabbed another folder and placed it into her bag. “Carrie? You do.”
“Devon is a friend, Dar.”
“Yeah, but a friend you could be interested in as more.”
Carrie set down her briefcase and met Darlene’s expectant gaze. Darlene was on point. Denying the sentiment would be pointless. At the same time, Carrie felt a tad superstitious. And, Carrie had learned early on in her life that rushing into romantic interludes could have a high cost. That was the last outcome she wanted where Devon Brine was concerned. Darlene was ruled by passion. Darlene was passionate about everything in life. Sometimes, that passion led her in perilous directions. Carrie was more passionate than most people perceived. She simply was more guarded. She had worked to temper her actions.
“Dar,” Carrie took a deep breath. “Maybe. Maybe it could be; maybe not. We are friends. I enjoy her company.” Darlene raised her eyebrows and smirked. Carrie chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Stop thinking whatever it is you are thinking. What about you? How was your weekend?”
“We got the account.”
“Um-hum. And, Leigh?”
Darlene shrugged. “The same in bed as she is in a conference room.”
Carrie laughed. If anyone could rival Darlene in the need to be the center of the universe, it was Leigh Matthews. “Sounds like an eventful weekend. And, so? We have the account. What about you?”
“Something tells me Leigh is past me already,” Darlene admitted. “Do me a favor?”
“If I can.”
“Don’t tell Tommy.”
Carrie sighed. “I don’t talk about your sex life with your ex-husband.”
“I know, but I’m not sure what he would think.”
“I think you underestimate him. He knows you, Dar.”
“I know that. He’s already frustrated with me,” Darlene muttered.
“He still loves you,” Carrie said. Darlene sighed. Carrie smiled. “Think about what you really want for once,” Carrie said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what I said,” Carrie replied. She leaned in and kissed Darlene on the cheek. “I need to go. I have a four o’clock meeting, and I’d like to check in before that,” she said and headed toward the door.
“And, maybe call a certain cook?”
“Chef, Dar. She’s a chef. I’ll call you tonight.”
“After you call the chef?”
“Goodbye, Darlene.”
“Bye, Carrie.”
***
Devon looked at her cell phone, sighed, and tossed it across the desk.
“Expecting a call?” Bruce asked.
“What?”
“You’ve looked at your phone eight times in the last half hour.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Have.”
Devon shifted in her chair.
“So, Leigh Matthews wants to book their New Year’s Eve party here,” Bruce said. Devon’s brow furrowed. “And, she’s got one hell of a budget to spend.”
“I’m sure.”
“What is your deal with her, Dev?”
“I don’t have any deal with her.”
“You did.”
“That wasn’t a deal,” Devon said. “It was an epic mistake.”
“That bad?”
Devon laughed. “No, just not very real.”
“You don’t like her much.”
“And, you do,” Devon observed candidly.
“Well, she didn’t choose me. She went after you,” Bruce reminded his best friend.
“Because you were too available,” Devon offered.
“And, you were aloof.”
“Exactly,” Devon said.
“So, has that been your secret all these years, Princess?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret,” Devon replied.
Bruce was about to reply when Devon’s phone skidded across the desk. She picked it up and a smile immediately swept across her face. Bruce shook his head. Devon was smitten. That was the best word he could find to describe the stupid grin on his best friend’s face. He hadn’t seen her eyes sparkle the way they did now in many years.
“I’m going to check on Deb in the kitchen,” Bruce stood up. Devon was chuckling as she furiously typed something into her phone. “Anything you want me to tell her?” he asked Devon.
“Who?” Devon looked up.
“Deb.”
Devon tilted her head in confusion.
“You’re new understudy; hello? Deb. The one you insisted we hire to be your second?”
“Yeah?”
“Anything you want me to let her know?” he asked.
Devon shook her head and looked back at her phone. Her smile widened again. Bruce watched his friend and smiled. Devon tended to be tight-lipped about her romantic life and her sexual conquests. She had never been one to kiss and tell; a reality that frustrated Bruce, but also one of the traits Devon possessed that he admired. He didn’t need her to show him the message. He didn’t need her to speak the name. This time, Bruce was quite sure he knew who the message had been from—Carrie Maynard. He silently left.
Devon startled slightly when the phone buzzed in her hand. She lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”
“You’ve cursed me,” Carrie’s voice came across the line.
“Me? You’re the Jedi.”
Carrie chuckled. “Pizza. My dinner meeting is at a local pizza place.”
“Classy.”
“It’s an eclectic client.”
“So, eclectic pizza?” Devon teased.
“I suppose so.”
“How did everything turn out?” Devon asked.
“You mean, did your dinner Friday seal our deal?”
“Something like that.”
“We landed the account,” Carrie replied evenly.
“You don’t sound particularly thrilled by that.”
“It’s a win for us financially and for our portfolio.”
“Glowing with excitement,” Devon laughed. “Let me guess; it was sealed with a kiss.”
“Good guess,” Carrie answered. She felt her heart sink slightly. “How well do you know Leigh Matthews?” she asked as casually as she could.
“Well enough to know how she likes to close a deal,” Devon answered. Silence hovered. “She booked the restaurant for New Year’s Eve,” Devon said.
Carrie’s heart dropped another notch. “That’s great, Dev.”
Devon listened to Carrie’s voice curiously. “So, are you calling me to cancel our dinner date?”
“What? No,” Carrie replied. “Why would I do that?”
“Just thought you might be growing tired of pizza,” Devon said.
Carrie was sick of pizza. CJ loved pizza. Carrie fought to get a chance to eat anything else when she spent time with the four-year-old, and she had been spending considerable time with her Goddaughter lately. Carrie was positive that CJ had inherited that obsession. As much as Darlene loved to hobnob, when push came to shove, the woman would always suggest pizza as her cuisine of choice. That was not limited to lunch or dinner. Snacks, breakfast, even a diet plan could all be comprised of pizza. Darlene had long argued that pizza constituted a diverse delicacy. It could serve the needs of the most voracious meat eater or the most dedicated vegan. Carrie chuckled softly. Pizza. She hated pizza. She adored Darlene and CJ As she listened to the timbre of Devon’s voice, Carrie mused that she would eat pizza every meal for the rest of her life if it meant she could spend time with Devon.
“I’ll suffer through it,” Carrie teased. “Listen, I need to fly. Traffic here is a bitch. I don’t feel like taking the T.”
