Then, I wait for the regret to kick in.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t. Probably because I did nothing but tell the truth, and he damn well knows it.
Doug might not appreciate how empty his pocket will be as a result, not to mention those sweet campaign funds that I’m under no illusion he isn’t tapping into.
Doug can kiss my ass.
I decide to take the rest of the day off sick, something I haven’t once done in the four years I’ve worked here.
Call it temporary insanity.
Brought on in part by this business with Honey Dewberry.
Chapter Twenty-Eight Honey
I’m standing in the foyer of the restaurant where Giuseppe and I are supposed to meet. The weather outside is horrible, but even if it weren’t for the heaters, my body would be filled with warm excitement.
Our first bona fide date. At least the traditional kind.
One where I don’t have to put on any kind of performance.
I think about the ticket to Chanteuse Femmes I snagged for tomorrow night.
That puts a slight wrinkle of worry in my brow.
But I won’t think about that now.
Let Giuseppe come to the show and judge for himself. I suppose that will be the determining factor if he’s the right man for me.
When he finally walks through the door to the restaurant, my smile brightens. It fades a little when I see the look on his face. It’s an unfortunate mix of distracted and concerned, it doesn’t go away when his eyes land on me.
“Bad day at work?” I ask with a sympathetic smile.
“Can we talk? Somewhere private.”
That doesn’t sound good at all.
I look around the small waiting area in the restaurant. Going outside isn’t a convenient option due to the weather.
He seems to realize the same thing, so he takes my arm and guides me to a small corner of the sitting area where we might have some privacy if we keep our voices down.
“What is it?” I ask, feeling my anxiety go haywire.
Jesse stares at me as though wondering how to start. More than ever he looks like Clark Kent in those glasses, perhaps after having committed some mishap at the Daily Planet.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you do for a living? What you really do?”
I feel my heart sink.
So he knows.
“I didn’t lie, Giuseppe. Not exactly.”
“That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding in agreement. “You’re right, it’s not fair. I just…I didn’t want you to judge me before you actually saw the show.”
“Instead I had to find out from my coworkers,” he hisses under his breath. “Do you have any idea what that was like?”
“I’m certainly beginning to,” I say cooly.
“Don’t do that Honey, don’t play that game. I took you to the gala, an event put on by my firm. Now, I just look like the office schmuck.”
“And what were you before?” I say, turning it back on him. I know I’m being awful, but if we’re going to be laying it all out, why not? “So concerned about these people for whom you yourself have to put on a show? Because heaven forbid they find out who the real Giuseppe is, the boy from New Jersey.”
“Don’t turn this on me, Honey. You should have told me from the start.”
“You’re right, I should have. It would have prevented this right here.” I give him a sad look. “So, do you want to end this? I’d understand if you do.”
He blinks in surprise.
Which surprises me.
“I—I didn’t say that. I just…I need time to consider what this means.”
“What it means?” I repeat. “I’m no different than I was yesterday, Giuseppe. No different than I was last week. You just know one more thing about me. This person you see before you, that’s the real me. Just like your Superman is that boy from New Jersey. My…Supergirl, I suppose, is that girl who looked at Dolly Parton and Josephine Baker and said ‘that’s me right there.’ It may not be everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m certainly going to raise eyebrows with what I do and who I am. But to be honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Honey, I’m not ending this. I just need time to absorb it. Surely you can at least understand that?”
“I do,” I say with a sympathetic smile. I reach up to cup his face, feeling that slight bit of stubble scratch my palm. “I’m not criticizing you for that. Rose told me I should have told you right away and she was right. That’s my bad.”
I reach into my purse and pull out the ticket for my show.
“Just, at least do me the favor of watching me perform before you decide I’m not the woman for you, Giuseppe.”
His eyes fall to the ticket, then back up to me. “Honey…I—”
I press the ticket into his palm.
“Tomorrow night. If you’re still interested after the show, come backstage. I’ll have a pass waiting for you. If you don’t show up, I’ll know it’s over.”
I reach up to kiss his cheek, then leave while he’s still caught up in his silence.
Walking out, the weather finally matches my mood.
What kind of woman get’s rejected twice in the month of February?
Chapter Twenty-Nine Honey
The best thing about having girlfriends is that they know how to drop everything and rally around you when you’re at your lowest.
Tonight is a far cry from Sunday night where I shined on the stage, mostly powered by the best makeup Valentine’s Day evening ever with Giuseppe after the gala.
He sprang this on me on a Monday, so all of them are available to be here tonight at Jerome’s place with me. Along with the appropriate amount of alcohol.
“So is he coming to the show tomorrow?” Annabelle asks.
I shrug, “I gave him a ticket. We’ll see if he uses it.”
“Once he sees that pretty ass of yours on the stage doin’ your thing, he’s gonna be hooked, Honey,” Jerome says.
“Exactly,” Esmerelda agrees. “Tu culo es—” she kisses the tips of her fingers “muy fuego.”
That gets
