The Reality of You by Jean Haus

in
the vault information.”
    “Twenty-eight,” he
said in a steely tone.
    My mouth fell open.
“Twenty-eight? Really? You’re four years older than me? That’s crazy.”
    “Why is that
bizarre?” he asked, setting his now half-filled beer down.
    “Because I would
have guessed thirty-four, maybe thirty-five.”
    He choked on a swig
of beer before forcing it down then slammed his glass on the table.
“Thirty-four? Six years’ difference? Why so much older?”
    “You’re…uptight I
guess. Older people are more uptight. I mean about business stuff. Anyone can be
uptight though. I was once on a traveling team with this girl—”  
    “Uptight? And this
perception came from?”
    I shrugged. “I work
with a very diversified group of people, computer nerds of all ages.”
    “Thought you were a
temp?” he asked.
    Oh shit. I kind of
forgot that the rum made me dumb along with mellow. “I am.” I lifted my drink
and took a sip. “And we’re all different ages.”
    He leaned back, a
shrewd look on his face as he studied me. “When would you work together?”
    Yeah, I should have
said an old job. I pulled another shrug. “Some people want more than one
secretary at a time. Double the demanding fun,” I said sarcastically, but his
unchanging expression told me that he didn’t like my sarcasm. I set my drink
down and drummed my fingers on the table before I changed the direction of the
conversation faster than one of my goal kicks today. “It’s not that you look
over thirty. It’s that you have a certain confidence…a mature way you carry
yourself.” The last bit was added purposely to boost his ego.
    He continued
watching me with a sly smirk.
    Kara remained quite
sure that Reese would never know about why I’d truly came—neither of us was a
bleep on his radar—but his sly smirk had me suddenly worried. The song changed
to something familiarly boppy.
    I noticed a limbo
stick out on the dance floor and found the perfect way to end the conversation.
“Oh!” I said, jumping up like it was Christmas morning and I was four. “The
limbo! I love the limbo. The limbo is epic!” I took a step toward the bar. “You
coming?”
    He lifted his beer.
“I’ll observe from here.”
    “You don’t know what
you’re missing,” I said over my shoulder, rushing toward the bar and far away
from him.
    I joined the line
for the limbo dance. A group of tourist party girls were in front of me. Two
waitresses each held an end of the stick. For the first pass under, I boogied
under the stick like I was having the time of my life. The second time, I
glided under that stick, swaying my hips. By the third pass, a semi back bend,
the line had dwindled to six of us. Fourth time, I gently inched my way under
the stick. Finally, there were two of us in the line. For the fifth pass, I
scooted so low that my shoulders touched the ground, but I didn’t touch the
stick. The other girl did though.
    And then I stood on
the stage next to the singer, who smelled like a very used pot bong. I was the
limbo queen of the night, complete with a plastic crown and a shot of rum.
Awesome prize.
      Until they lit it on fire.

Chapter 11

 
    “Wow,”
I said, yanking off the plastic crown and then releasing my ponytail. I leaned
my head on the back of my chair to stare at the stars. I was sitting back
outside on the deck with Reese. Luckily for my buzzed ass, there was only one
other occupied table in the opposite corner. “That fire rum went straight to my
head.”
    “Liquid that has the
capability to burn would be potent,” Reese said dryly.
    “Yadda, yadda, prep
talk.” I lifted my head and ran my hands through my freed hair. “I rocked that
stick though.”
    A tight grin
flattened his full mouth. “Yes, you certainly did”—Reese lowered his chin—“rock
that stick.”
    “Ha!” I let out a
hoot at the innuendo. “A guy would pick up on that. Even you!”
    “Even me?”
    “Yeah, you, Mr.
Business, out to make a name for