doing work like this for years, it's doubtful he'll ever progress beyond this type of work.”
Brody Mason turned directly toward me, readjusting his cufflinks and with a look of wonderment at me.
“You know, I was looking to buy several pieces from this gallery, and I had received a catalog and I showed an expert for an educated opinion, and he said pretty much what you just said.”
Brody looked at me more carefully,
“Did you study art at college or... ?”
“No, I've just always been fascinated with art, I guess you could call it something of a hobby for me, although I haven't picked up a brush in years.”
I told him how our family hadn't been able to afford for me to go to art college, and how I'd then ended up as a para-legal secretary. He listened to me carefully, and I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or something else, but I was sure I saw a deep sympathy in his eyes for me.
Brody looked down at the ground and then back up at me,
“I understand you,” he said, “I wasn't born into a well-off family either. I had to work so hard as I had two younger brothers and my mother to support, our father had left us to our own devices when I was still young, and I was the only one old enough to work. My Mother had a form of paralysis... incurable actually.”
Brody looked at the painting in front of us again, and went silent. I wanted to hold his arm because he looked like he was remembering something really painful, and I knew intimately how that felt. I touched his arm briefly, and he looked back at me and tried to smile.
“But everything's okay now right? I mean you have your own business, and you look quite successful to me.” I indicated toward his clothes.
He nodded, brightening slightly. Even when he was looking sad I found his whole demeanor so captivating. Suddenly, his cell phone started ringing. Taking it out of his suit pocket he excused himself for a moment, telling me it was an important call, and walked over to one of the alcoves and talked in a somewhat whispered tone. I continued to look at the painting, waiting for him to return, and trying to act as if I was actually interested in it, as opposed to what I was really interested in... Brody Mason. I started to nervously look at my watch, there wasn't much time left before I'd have to go back to work. It was stupid, but I hoped somehow we'd be able to continue our conversation another day. But girls like me never really got those kinds of guys, I'd be lucky if I could be his friend. Then I cursed myself for having such a low sense of self-esteem for thinking so. I ran my hands though my long brown hair tidying it in anticipation for his return.
Brody came striding back, with a look of serious concern on his face,
“I really must apologize, I have to go. It was an absolute pleasure to meet you, and thank you for your insight.”
I tried to form some words that would keep him from going to come out of my mouth, but nothing was forthcoming, and I simply said,
“Okay.” and smiled only slightly, hoping he'd notice that I wished he'd stay.
Brody looked so serious though. I could tell by his then furrowed brow, that whatever he'd just received a call about was concerning him. He reached over to my arm and squeezed it in a comforting fashion, before turning away and walking off. I watched him leaving, and just at that moment, he turned back to look at me, and said,
“You know, this was the best lunch break I've had in a long time Jenna.”
I felt my white teeth show, as a wide smile uncontrollably spread across my face. I couldn't help it, I couldn't even give him a response, my toes curled in my shoes as if to try to contain my happiness.
...
I sat at my desk tapping my pen on the table and failed to notice that my boss, Paul Braithwaite, was standing in front of me waiting for me to notice him with some papers in-hand he wanted me to file.
“Hello, Jenna.” He said in an almost sing-song tone, “Earth to Jenna, come in Jenna.” He continued, failing to get a response from me.
I came back from my reverie. Paul always had a good sense of humor. He was an attractive man, and actually one of the top lawyers in the firm. I'd worked for him for several years by that point after my former boss had left. I looked up at him, realizing I had drifted-off again.
“What has gotten into you these past few days Jenna?” he asked, looking me over carefully, “Either someone's died, or you're in love!”
I laughed,
“Neither.”
He raised his eyebrows to show his disbelief,
“By simple process of elimination, I surmise you are in love. Simply because if someone had died, you'd be crying. I'm right, aren't I?”
I shook my head, but then myself wondered. Was I in love? I had been doing an inordinate amount of thinking about Brody Mason, I'd really not been able to get him out of my mind. Each lunch break I'd go back to the gallery hoping maybe I'd see him again. It had gotten so that I'd be looking at the paintings but watching over my shoulder hoping that he'd appear. But he didn't, and each day I'd cross the street back to my office feeling forlorn. One day, I'd almost gotten hit by a car I had been so distracted. But no matter how many times I went back, he never came. “Just one of those things.” I'd said to myself. One of those meetings that happen that are just one-sided in feelings and importance.
I took the papers off Paul, attempting to be cheerful, and tried to focus on my work. There was no use in hoping for something that wasn't ever going to happen, and I made a conscious decision to get back to normal, whatever normal was for me. It had been a long time since I'd dated. I didn't know if it was my reluctance or something else, but I knew I had to do something to change; I couldn't very well live the rest of my life as lonely as this. And having met Brody Mason seemed like something of a catalyst.
Five-thirty came, and I packed away my things in my desk, and asked Paul if there was anything he needed before I left. Paul was focusing on a case document in front of him, and managed to force himself to wave in the negative at me without looking up.
“I know who you're in love with Paul.” I said leaning on the door frame.
Paul looked up surprised,
“What?!”
“I said, I know who you are in love with Paul.”
Paul was actually a bachelor and he didn't seem to ever have time for anything else but his work, let alone dating.
Paul took his glasses off and decided to humor me,
“Okay, who Jenna?”
“Your work. The love of your life.”
Paul laughed. Even he couldn't deny that one.
“Don't work so hard Paul, or life will just pass you by.”
Paul nodded in agreement, but I knew just as soon as I was gone, he'd forget completely about what I'd just suggested, and then just immerse himself in his task at hand. In fact, I supposed, as I went down in the elevator, that my advice to Paul was really what I was trying to tell myself.
Going out the revolving doors I saw it was another rainy New York early evening, and cursed myself for not having brought my umbrella that day. As I was standing there, a suited man standing nearby a limousine - under a black umbrella - approached me,
“Miss. Sams?”
It gave me a start, and I answered yes, wondering who wanted to know. The security guard of our building was watching from inside, so I wasn't worried too much.
“I work for Brody Mason, he said you would remember him.”
My heart instantly jumped a thousand feet into the sky. Brody Mason, the Brody Mason.
“Why, yes.”
“He asks if you would be so good as to join him for dinner. He sends his apologies for not meeting you in person, but he is in a meeting with an investment banker that doesn't finish until later, but he knows you finish your work around about now.”
I looked down at what I was wearing, thinking it wasn't really what I'd have chosen to wear if I'd known I was meeting Brody,
“Erm... I'm not really sure... I... ” I stuttered.
I was so nervous, the driver could see I needed some reassura
nce.
“I'm sure Mr. Mason would be very pleased to see you, he often mentions you to me when I drive past here on the way to take him to his corporation.”
I nodded in acceptance and the chauffeur, who told me his name was George, brought the umbrella over me and walked me over to the car and opened the door for me to get inside. I had to admit, I was glad I wasn't going to have to walk all the way to the subway station in the pouring rain, and felt so comfortable when I sat down on the plush leather seats, before George closed the door and proceeded to get in the front and start the ignition. I hadn't even asked exactly where we were going, but wherever it was, I knew they'd be two good things about it: Firstly, Brody would be there, and secondly, it would be the first dinner date I'd have been on in many months, if in fact it was 'a date.'
At the stop lights, people milled past in the gray rain outside, and every so often, would raise their heads to look in the limousine, trying to look inside to catch a glimpse of the person who would be riding in such a car. I felt kind of special, it wasn't everyday I got to travel in a chauffeur driven car. After about twenty minutes - when we got to one of the up-market areas of the city - the driver pulled over to a yellow flood-lit building with throngs of people inside the large glass windows. We had arrived at Fandaso, one of the most exclusive restaurants at that time. It covered three floors and was the five star restaurant everyone wanted to be seen at. I looked down at my sixty percent polyester business suit and felt instantly embarrassed. I couldn't go