CHAPTER 6: THE JACKASS
Dawn was furious. Insulted. Positively annoyed. Keith–her gigantic and all around lackadaisical tease of a keeper–was really beginning to get on her nerves. Why couldn’t she have fallen into the hands of literally anyone else in New York? A banker would have been nice. They’d at least be able to see eye to eye.
It was as if he didn’t have a care in the world. No schedule, no responsibilities, no sense of urgency for anything. How could someone get through life like this? Surely he wasn’t the financial brains behind his so-called business?
And now he was determined to make a damn fool of her. Dawn’s “kind” weren’t often appreciated until one was in a tight place, she knew that. And she didn’t care. Everyone swears against the devil, but as soon as you need to strike a deal with him, it’s funny how quickly the song changes. As they walked through the park she imagined Keith groveling on her office rug, begging her to represent him in a ludicrous and predatory lawsuit. Poor thing! You couldn’t afford me, she’d tell him, and slam the door in his handsome face.
Handsome?
Well, he wasn’t half-bad looking.
As Keith waved his membership card at the admission both, they strolled in and he said in a low voice: “Now remember, this is a date. Try to enjoy yourself.”
This wasn’t a date and she absolutely would not, thank you very much.
It was afternoon by now and possibly the hottest part of the day. He should have gone to the gardens first and finished with the museum, she thought balefully. However, the trees cast decent shadows and there weren’t as many people about as there could have been, she imagined. He took them to the Japanese garden first, and she had to admit that it was beautifully manicured. She always felt she had some spiritual quality in common with the Japanese; their pursuit of perfection, rigor, and straightforward utilitarian aesthetic struck her as sensible. And she found the ritual of the sushi restaurant to be one of life’s finer pleasures.
“Have you ever eaten sushi?” she called out, mostly out of boredom.
“Raw fish and horseradish? No way,” he said back.
Dawn smiled to herself, a sharp little expression that she was often fond of weaponizing. Finally, she had something on him.
“You mean to tell me that in all your cultured explorations, you’ve never once even thought about it? Didn’t think anything was too highbrow for you.”
He stopped in a particularly nice bit of shade as a little breeze picked up and brought cooler air off the pond. It was heavenly.
“It’s just not my thing. Now isn’t this nice?”
How dare he just… brush her off like that! If she was her normal size and this was a real date, she would have command of the conversation. She would have him wrapped around her finger by now. He’d be eating whatever she told him to eat.
She was jostled again, though, as he set her down on the ground to take a peek inside with a quizzical look on his face.
Dawn frowned and blinked. “What?”
“I was expecting some acerbic response and didn’t get one. Wanted to make sure you were still with me.”
“Some acerbic–! You know what, how about you try being attacked on the landing to your apartment, shrunk down to however the hell tall this is, thrown in the fucking garbage, and then dragged around Brooklyn in this heat by some strange man who’s trying to flirt with you without getting a little frustrated!”
A crease formed between his brows as he looked down at her. “So you didn’t want to come after all.”
“That’s not what I said! You don’t get it.”
“No, I think I get it perfectly well. Come on, I’m leaving. This isn’t going to be as nice of a walk as I was hoping it would be.”
Dawn knew his mood had changed when he hailed a cab home. The backpack was handled roughly as he slid into the back seat of the air-conditioned Crown Vic and told the driver his cross streets. They were back at his place in a matter of minutes, and in no time he was taking them up those horrible creaky stairs to the third floor. Key in lock, door open.
The backpack was put on the floor, and he opened it rather brusquely, in her opinion, before walking away to go to the kitchen. She heard water running as he filled a cup.
Dawn was left to pull herself from the bag and straighten out that horrible dress. She was going to follow him and demand to know what his problem was, but she was too small to make it up the stairs to the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” she yelled up at him.
The artist took a long swig of water from what looked to be a beer pint, and she watched as his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbed high above her head.
“You don’t have the faintest idea of how rude you are, do you?”
Keith leaned against a wooden guard rail that looked like it’d taken at least 100 coats of paint over the years and had that bloated look to it.
“Being nice doesn’t exactly get you anywhere in this town.”
Exasperated, he disappeared from view and poured himself more water. “I was trying to help,” he called down to her. “I was trying to take your mind off how damned awful your situation is, and boy am I sorry for trying.”
“Well maybe you shouldn’t have let someone see me and then pretend I was a goddamn ape!”
“You’re human! You are an ape!”
“I don’t think you appreciate how bad this is for me. If I can’t get back to normal, then I’m out of a job! Everything I’ve worked for, my client base, my position, my… my figure! All of it, wasted!”
There was silence for a moment.
“How come you said you didn’t want to be alone?”
Dawn opened her mouth and closed it again. Eventually, Keith appeared at the top of the stairs and in that easy way of his, ambled carefully down, eyeing her.
“I’m not used to spending much time by myself, I guess,” she said stiffly. “I’m rarely home.”
Keith held up a finger as he crossed the floor to the couch and sat down. His back was to her. “That’s not what I heard in your voice this morning.” He grabbed one of the expensive art books and began flipping through it.
“Oh? And what did you hear?” she snapped.
She heard him suck in a breath. “I heard a woman who was terrified to be stuck alone with her own thoughts and was begging to be distracted. Maybe to feel a little taken care of.”
Dawn couldn’t help the snort as she folded her arms and blushed deeply. “Don’t be ridiculous… I can’t believe I’m listening to a man tell me how I feel,” she huffed incredulously.
He flipped a few more pages. “Am I wrong though? I mean, I’m happy to be wrong if that means you’re just a jackass instead.”
And just like that, he had her cornered. Her shoulders slumped and she fingered a lock of hair. But after a moment her frown turned into a smile; maybe Keith was a little more clever and ruthless than she’d first imagined.
Dawn crossed the floor as he continued busying himself with the book and appeared beside the end of the sectional, where she stood near one of his huge Chuck Taylored feet and looked up, up, and into that face she had evidently underestimated. Alright, so he was handsome. Sue me, she thought.
“I’m not used to being called a jackass,” she said quietly.
“I don’t like the word bitch.”
“Oh I hear it all the time.”
He smiled a little and shook his head.
“It’s not often someone can beat me at my own game like that.”
He quirked a brow at her, then gently closed his book and leaned back. “And let me guess, you like that in a big, stupid man?”
She didn’t answer, and it was Keith’s turn to blush. He looked away and stood up quickly, and she gasped at how big he suddenly was, then wanted to laugh at catching him off guard. He went to the kitchen stairs again and clapped his hands together. “How about, ah, wine coolers and a game of poker? You can play Hold 'Em, you think?”
“Sounds great,” she said. “But could we go someplace cooler? I’m dying out here.”
