who he was, and that I’d made it abundantly clear that this was the end of our rendezvous.
“He’s of no interest to me. I told him to leave me alone from now on, and I behaved so nastily that it’s exactly what he’ll do.”
Chris didn’t believe a word. She was newly in love with her guy from Cologne—who wanted to see her again regardless of her announced intention to marry him—and had on her rose-colored glasses. In her hopelessly romantically transfigured world, there weren’t any idiotic, rational actions such as showing an idolized movie actor the door—certainly not if the admirer in question was Dominick Vanderstätt.
She pelted me with words of wisdom that I knew she’d never follow herself: “He’s not conceited at all. In fact, his behavior seems perfectly fine and natural. And his efforts to get you to go out with him on Thursday shows he’s caught fire. Laura, you’re pretty shrewd, considering your lack of experience. The more you give a man the cold shoulder—especially if women normally throw themselves at his feet—the more desirable you’ll be to him. I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts he’ll be back.”
Yeah, great! Now I definitely knew why I hadn’t heard from him. My unusual blind confidence made it too easy for him. Now that he’d figured out that I found him appealing, that I’d confessed my skeleton in the closet, and that I’d said I looked forward to seeing him again, I was of no interest to him anymore. The male hunting instinct was dead.
I turned to my files in total resignation and tried to distract myself from my brief excursion into the celebrity sphere. That afternoon a new client demanded my full attention, and I plunged into pocket calculators and tables for a comprehensive analysis of her financial situation. But scarcely had the lady left the office when the phone rang. My silly heart stumbled when I heard the voice I claimed I wasn’t interested in. My inner watchdog growled, warning me not to fall yet again for a man who saw me just as a diversion.
Nick sounded contrite. “Laura, I’m so incredibly sorry it’s taken me this long to call.”
Several sarcastic comebacks to this sentence occurred to me, such as: Did his telephone provider cancel his contract overnight? Or had Munich’s Inner City suddenly become a dead zone? Or did his agent lock him up in a cellar after their dinner together so I wouldn’t hurt his image? Or was he so bored that he wanted me to bitch at him some more? Of course, I was gracious and said nothing. I waited to see what flimsy excuse he’d come up with, trying to ignore the agitated tingling in my stomach. It felt like an ant colony was doing the samba in there. Chris gave me a high five when she caught on who was on the other end, and her face glowed in triumph.
Nick sounded anxious. “Laura? Are you still there?”
I got out an icy, “Yes, I can hear you very well.” Given my tone, I might as well have said, “Fuck off.”
I regretted my negativism when he said, in a small voice, “I got food poisoning at that damn dinner on Thursday. Like an idiot, I probably ate some bad oysters and was completely out of commission for three days. I’ve only felt more or less human since this morning. Laura, I want to see you as soon as possible. When are you free?”
I just about shouted, “Right now, if you want,” but held back in the nick of time. I also had no intention of following my partner’s advice to give him the cold shoulder. Those little tricks weren’t my cup of tea. All the same I didn’t want him to know I’d been anxiously waiting for his call all these days.
But Nick smoothly put a crimp in my plan to put him off at least until the next day. Without waiting for an answer, he said, “How about tonight? Tell me when you finish work and I’ll pick you up. Then we can decide what to do.”
We agreed he’d pick me up at my place. I really wanted to change my clothes. I wanted to provide some
“He’s of no interest to me. I told him to leave me alone from now on, and I behaved so nastily that it’s exactly what he’ll do.”
Chris didn’t believe a word. She was newly in love with her guy from Cologne—who wanted to see her again regardless of her announced intention to marry him—and had on her rose-colored glasses. In her hopelessly romantically transfigured world, there weren’t any idiotic, rational actions such as showing an idolized movie actor the door—certainly not if the admirer in question was Dominick Vanderstätt.
She pelted me with words of wisdom that I knew she’d never follow herself: “He’s not conceited at all. In fact, his behavior seems perfectly fine and natural. And his efforts to get you to go out with him on Thursday shows he’s caught fire. Laura, you’re pretty shrewd, considering your lack of experience. The more you give a man the cold shoulder—especially if women normally throw themselves at his feet—the more desirable you’ll be to him. I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts he’ll be back.”
Yeah, great! Now I definitely knew why I hadn’t heard from him. My unusual blind confidence made it too easy for him. Now that he’d figured out that I found him appealing, that I’d confessed my skeleton in the closet, and that I’d said I looked forward to seeing him again, I was of no interest to him anymore. The male hunting instinct was dead.
I turned to my files in total resignation and tried to distract myself from my brief excursion into the celebrity sphere. That afternoon a new client demanded my full attention, and I plunged into pocket calculators and tables for a comprehensive analysis of her financial situation. But scarcely had the lady left the office when the phone rang. My silly heart stumbled when I heard the voice I claimed I wasn’t interested in. My inner watchdog growled, warning me not to fall yet again for a man who saw me just as a diversion.
Nick sounded contrite. “Laura, I’m so incredibly sorry it’s taken me this long to call.”
Several sarcastic comebacks to this sentence occurred to me, such as: Did his telephone provider cancel his contract overnight? Or had Munich’s Inner City suddenly become a dead zone? Or did his agent lock him up in a cellar after their dinner together so I wouldn’t hurt his image? Or was he so bored that he wanted me to bitch at him some more? Of course, I was gracious and said nothing. I waited to see what flimsy excuse he’d come up with, trying to ignore the agitated tingling in my stomach. It felt like an ant colony was doing the samba in there. Chris gave me a high five when she caught on who was on the other end, and her face glowed in triumph.
Nick sounded anxious. “Laura? Are you still there?”
I got out an icy, “Yes, I can hear you very well.” Given my tone, I might as well have said, “Fuck off.”
I regretted my negativism when he said, in a small voice, “I got food poisoning at that damn dinner on Thursday. Like an idiot, I probably ate some bad oysters and was completely out of commission for three days. I’ve only felt more or less human since this morning. Laura, I want to see you as soon as possible. When are you free?”
I just about shouted, “Right now, if you want,” but held back in the nick of time. I also had no intention of following my partner’s advice to give him the cold shoulder. Those little tricks weren’t my cup of tea. All the same I didn’t want him to know I’d been anxiously waiting for his call all these days.
But Nick smoothly put a crimp in my plan to put him off at least until the next day. Without waiting for an answer, he said, “How about tonight? Tell me when you finish work and I’ll pick you up. Then we can decide what to do.”
We agreed he’d pick me up at my place. I really wanted to change my clothes. I wanted to provide some
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