Loving Eric

Emma sat in her room, her mind flying about the place in a cloud of thoughts. She'd had a busy day at work. Rearranging and stocking rows and rows of shelves with books that had sat in the store for so long, had to count for something, right? She gently massaged the base of her neck.

Sales had dwindled over the months since she joined Patrick at 'The Hippocampus Bookshop'. Patrick had been in the book business long enough, even before the advent of Amazon Kindles and tablets, so he knew they were barely hanging on a very slim thread for survival.

"These kids don't know the joy of owning a paperback," he'd shake his head like a priest at a funeral whenever the subject was raised.

It was hard to deny the truth. With fewer books leaving the store daily, they could only fight to hang on for as long as possible. Fees from the book club meetings and activities, coupled with some generous donations from Patrick's friends who were authors, were just about enough to raise money for the rent and taxes. But that was all it could do. Even the publishers had noticed the steep sales decline and reduced their delivery to the store.

Emma sighed in exasperation and pulled out her laptop from the tote bag she'd taken with her to work. There'd barely been any time to take it out and do some updating on her Reddit blog. Her engagements had soared recently and she planned on keeping it that way, except life had other plans, very shitty plans. But she remained grateful that Patrick wasn't an overbearing boss and he let her do just what she wanted. Giving her best to the job was her way of showing gratitude to him for his support.

Through book club's social events, she'd been privileged to meet with big shots in the writing game, people with New York bestsellers to their names, and she had Patrick to thank for that.

A notification blinked at the bottom of her laptop screen. It was an email from her dad. The last time they spoke, he'd been in some European country, "on a quest to find the meaning of life". He tended to just wake up and leave for as long as two months, only to call you from some resort or jungle in the middle of only God-knows-where, to say he'd found the discovery of a lifetime. And almost every time he did so, it turned out to be a dead end and he came back home, tail between legs in shame and disappointment. Emma knew her dad loved her, and even her mum when they were still together, but for how much longer would she keep on making excuses on his behalf?

She shut the laptop without opening the mail, the zeal to write leaving her. She picked up her phone to go sit on the bed, gently massaging her temples to calm down her nerves. She'd scarcely sat down for a second when her phone rang into the warm evening, jolting her from the whirlpool of thoughts she'd been stuck in.

'Mum', the caller ID read. Her mother had probably called to begin her usual tirade of rants about a new boyfriend who's been an asshole or some other insignificant nonsense. Emma rolled her eyes and watched the phone ring for a while before putting it on airplane mode. It felt selfish of her to snub her mother's call, she could have at least listened on as usual. But she had issues of her own to deal with, her mother's boyfriends would come later. Besides, who was to say that she wouldn't call again to complain?

Emma was about to shut her eyes and take a nap when she remembered she'd been having a conversation with her match on Tinder. She quickly picked up her phone and true enough to her intuition, he had left her a message. They were going to meet later tonight for a dinner date at "Buona Sera". He didn't have a bad taste as far as she was concerned. Not everyone took their Tinder matches to fancy restaurants for their first physical date. She scrolled through his pictures again just to convince herself that he was worth it, that he wouldn't be another disaster to write about on her blog.

A WhatsApp message came in from Patrick, reminding her to write something tonight as they'd agreed. He'd taken up his role as her accountability partner seriously and helped her to develop some discipline. She smiled fondly and texted him back.

Aye aye mon capitane! :⁠-⁠D

She shut down the phone and fell back on the bed, counting the ceilings unconsciously as she lay face up. Her eyes traveled to the bedside clock; six-thirty p.m. Scarlett would barge in any minute from...

"Hey hey honey," Scarlett strutted into the room, without knocking on the door as was her usual practice. Emma rolled her eyes and laughed in her head. Even Snowball, Emma's ragdoll cat who'd been napping in a corner, seemed to roll her eyes at the disturbance and let herself out of the room.

"Hi, Scarlett. Off to work?" Emma smiled weakly.

"Yeah. What'd you think?" Scarlett swept both hands down her body. She was dressed in a white crop top and a red checkered miniskirt, both legs cold in stockings which ended in a pair of matching sneakers. The three piercings arranged on either of her ears, coupled with the tiny hoop hanging from her nose made her look like Harley Quinn; that's if the Joker's bride was a redhead.

"You're beautiful as usual. A man would kill to have you," Emma winked jokingly.

"Yeah right," Scarlett twirled before taking a mock bow. "So what's happening? You're not gonna glue your lazy bum to that bed tonight, right?"

"Well.." Emma began and trailed off.

"What's the matter?"

"There's my date with this guy I met on Tinder. But..."

"But what? Emma, honey," she came and crouched over Emma on the bed, "You're getting your ass out of this room!"

Emma jolted in shock before bursting into laughter at the spontaneity of Scarlett's action.

"I don't wanna go," she whined like a naughty toddler.

"You're already there as far as I'm concerned, baby girl. Now get yourself into the bathroom and get ready for a beautiful night out at..." She waved her hand in the air for me to provide the answer.

"Buona Sera," I offered.

"Oh my god. This one has some taste, huh," Scarlett slapped Emma lightly on the thigh.

"I don't know, Scarlett," Emma turned around and buried her face in the bed.

"You don't know what? You need a man in your life, baby," Scarlett nodded her head as she spoke, a gesture Emma found quite amusing.

"You're older, you need a man more than I do Scar," Emma teased jokingly.

"Don't be silly Emma. Life's given you this fine man now and he's taking you to the bubu place for dinner too."

"It's 'Buona Sera'," Emma corrected, giggling under her breath. Scarlett rolled her eyes, as if to say, "whatever". "But why don't you have a man yourself?" Emma asked, trying to shift the focus away from her.

"It's a choice I've made. Besides, who wants to pull a man into this shitty life?" Scarlett turned around and walked towards her small closet.

"Don't say that, Scarlett. You're an awesome lady with an awesome life and an awesome job," Emma sat up, cocking her head to the side with a kind smile.

"Bet your grandma has changed her mind then?" Scarlett turned around to face her, a mischievous smirk playing around her lips in an "I didn't think so" manner.

"I'm a stripper darling, I'm used to shit like that. It's cool. But you, honey pie, should step out and meet someone. Starting from tonight," she said, pitching her voice to rise over Emma's groan of protest.

"You're going to meet your Tinder date tonight, and that's it. Get up," she took Emma by the arms and pulled her up till she stood to her full height.

Emma dragged her feet into the bathroom and spent so much time in the bathtub, long enough to make sure Scarlett had left for work by the time she was out. She planned on sitting in with the excuse that she didn't have a dress to wear.

"Check this out. I think it's perfect," Scarlett announced once Emma got out of the bathroom.

"You're still here? Won't you be late for work?" Emma jumped with a start.

"Oh no way you'd expect me to leave you here without first kicking your ass into a cab headed to the bubu place," Scarlett slapped the air.

"It's.., never mind," Emma rolled her eyes and chuckled.

She picked up the red velvet dress lying on the bed. It looked so beautiful on the bed she wondered if putting it on would disturb its perfect beauty. Emma knew she wasn't among the generous number of girls who were applauded mostly for their internal beauty for lack of the outward appearance to appeal to the judging eyes of people around them. She was constantly being told that she could easily turn heads if she stepped into a room, but her confidence had dropped over the years and since the compliments came in mostly from friends and family, she concluded they were only being nice. Besides, her dad's notorious British nose did nothing to allay her insecurities as it sat proudly on her face, as a proud reminder that she just couldn't be perfect. She had him to thank for her pretty green eyes though.

"Come on, get dressed already," Scarlett beckoned with a wave of her hand, as she rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Alright alright."

Emma stepped into the sleeveless dress. It hung low from her neck, dipping down to show some of her ample cleavage. The short dress flared out from her waist down, just a few inches above her knees. She picked up the pearl earrings and necklace lined up on the dresser before her and put them on, brushing her hair out so it cascaded down in waves to her lower back.

"You're fucking gorgeous!" Scarlett cried out in delight, winking at her reflection in the mirror.

"Thank you," Emma blushed and looked away.

She turned around to step into her three-inch high cream wedges, which had a crisscross strap traveling up her legs, gladiator style. She wasn't a fan of high heels as she was already tall. Standing at 5'9", she could easily look an average guy straight in the eye. But she was wearing them because Scarlett thought they made her look sexy.

"Do I even need these?" she protested looking down at her feet.

"Don't be dramatic, you look hot in those," Scarlett complimented the shoes. "Just one more thing," she squinted her eyes at Emma in thought and snapped her fingers as if she'd just discovered the cure for cancer.

"Smack your lips," she instructed Emma after applying a generous dose of pink lip gloss to her lips. Emma did as she was told and looked at her reflection in the dressing mirror.

"Do you think it's necessary?" she protested lightly.

"You're gonna kill 'em, baby!" Scarlett punched the air and blew Emma a kiss.

Emma dribbled some milk into a saucer for Snowball and rubbed her fur before heading out into the night with Scarlett. They got into two different cabs after a goodbye kiss and as she watched the streetlights shining above roll past the moving vehicle, Emma took in deep breaths to untie the growing knots in her stomach.

===§§§§§§§===

As she walked through the fancy glass doors held open by a smiling security guard, Emma's initial hesitation started creeping back into her mind. She could just easily turn around and go back home, then probably text her date saying she came down with the bug and couldn't make it. Scarlett wasn't here to prod her forward as usual. Emma could easily imagine her saying something as funny as "Put on your big girl panties girl!". But Emma was tired of being strong, she was tired of being fierce and independent. She'd been those all through her childhood, and all she wanted was a man who would be strong for her instead. So far, she'd not been lucky in her search for one.

Tonight, her fears stared her right in the face, the looming possibility of disappointment bearing down on her shoulders. No one put a gun to her head to be here anyway, she thought to herself as she contemplated turning around. Her phone buzzed in her purse and she took it out, her eyes looking this way and that expecting to be disappointed. What could go wrong? she admonished herself as she took the call.

Hello?

Hi beautiful. Over here.

She almost dropped her phone from the sheer shock that hit her as she looked at her date sitting in the far corner of the large restaurant. Her intuition wasn't wrong. He didn't look half as terrible as her previous dates, but he was a far cry from his pictures.

For starters, he looked shorter and fatter than the pictures said. His beard looked untrimmed and rough, flying about the place like his sandy brown coloured hair. His eyes were shifty, darting back and forth across her body, as he licked his lips like a crazed dog. He didn't even bother to help her take out the chair. She smiled her gratitude to the kind waiter who took the initiative to do so for her.

"Tony?"

"In the flesh. You're as sexy as in the pictures," he licked his fat lips lewdly as he eyed her cleavage.

Emma wished she could pull out his eyes and serve it to him on a saucer. "Well at least some of us care to look like our pictures!" she screamed internally.

Emma looked around the restaurant, at the fine-looking couple enjoying each other's company on the other side of the room. Why couldn't she be that lucky?

After an eternity, Tony cleared his voice and signaled a waiter.

"We'll have a beer. Just one bottle please," he smiled craftily, revealing a set of crooked teeth.

Emma's jaw dropped to the table in shock, as she contemplated the possibility of the words she'd just heard. So not only was Tony a lying asshole, he was also a broke dumbass. She could imagine him still sleeping in a camping bag in his mother's basement. Emma mentally facepalmed herself, wondering why she still sat at the same table with this scam of a man.

The waiter returned with the drink and two glasses. Tony waved for him to leave, shared the drinks equally in the two glasses, and held them up to admire his work of art.

He didn't try to offer her the drink, but she took the cue when he lifted his glass to his lips and halved the beer in it.

"Do we get back to my place now? Can't wait to see you without that dress," Tony winked and placed the glass down on the table.

Emma stared in disbelief at the clown sitting across from her, shocked by his audacity. Her shock gave way to rage, as hot tears of anger welled up behind her eyes. This had to be the worst she'd seen in her long history of unfortunate dates.

She shot up to her feet, picking up the untouched glass of beer still sitting on the table and pouring its contents on Tony's face. Still unsatisfied, she reached across the table and landed a slap she was sure would leave an imprint right on his face. Tony swallowed his protest as the slap landed on his face. He held his hand to his cheek, nursing his wounds.

"Fuck you!" Emma screamed in his face as she turned around and stormed off. She just wanted to get as far away as possible from the pervert sitting at that table. Why did she have to be so unlucky in this quest to find love?

The tears stung her eyes as she fought hard to keep them from bursting out like a broken dam in front of all the spectators who'd turned to look at the show she put on for them. She walked as fast as her legs could manage, bumping into a man on her way out. She could sense the man turning around to look at her in anticipation of an apology. Too bad he wasn't getting any from her. Everyone deserved a share of the anger boiling in her stomach.

===§§§§§§§===

Eric stood, mildly irritated by the lady who'd bumped into him on her way out. He'd expected an apology, as halfhearted as it would have been, but at least a gesture of courtesy. But the lady had stormed off without turning around to say anything. He wondered what her problem was. Why did everyone in town expect their problems to be evenly distributed amongst the people around them? He shook his head and looked around for his date tonight; Olivia, his best friend, actually the only friend he'd made in a long while.

She'd been the only woman who had a different effect on him, something about her coolheaded wisdom endeared her to his heart. She was his conscience and reason in the face of tough decisions. Olivia was only six months older than him but she'd never let him rest about it, always holding it in his face and proudly wearing her self awarded sash as his elder sister. He never argued with her about that though, she did have that much effect on him. She was the elder sister he never had, the one that always came into the dark basement to console him after Aunt Agatha's whip had torn through the flesh on his buttocks.

"Aww, there's my favorite baby brother," Olivia smiled her dimple-adorned smile, flashing her perfect teeth at him. Eric couldn't help the smile that crept up to his face as he immediately forgot about the lady who'd bumped into him.

"It's just six months, Olivia."

"Which is technically enough time to make me your elder sister," she stated, pulling him down for a hug.

At 5'10", Olivia wasn't a small woman, but she insisted on pulling Eric, who stood at 6'3" down to her height, claiming that "it was improper in her African tradition for a younger person to tower over their elders while greeting them."

Eric always laughed at her claims seeing as she was barely even African; both her parents were from the Dominican Republic.

"Nonsense, my ancestors are from Africa!" she'd always proudly declare in her defense.

"So what's up, how's your week been?" Olivia asked, picking up the menu booklet to tick her order. Eric picked up the booklet once she was done and smiled at her choice; pasta carbonara.

"You're not over your love for pasta," Eric teased with a knowing smile.

"Well, a girl's got her cravings, yeah?" Olivia winked playfully at him.

"I'll take the same thing she's having," Eric handed the booklet over to the waiter standing sentinel beside their table.

"So...," Olivia tapped her fingers on the table in anticipation of some good gossip.

Eric shook his head and smiled fondly. She'd always been so interested in his life ever since their first encounter in their freshman year at business school. She'd been on a scholarship from her local college council and he'd been sponsored by Miss Johnson. She redefined his definition of women even with her confidence and competitive spirit. There was an underlying soft side to her that balanced her fierce spirit.

"How's your week going?" Olivia reiterated, her eyes widening in emphasis and anticipation.

"It's only Tuesday, Liv. The week's just started," Eric reclined back into his seat, a smile dancing on his lips.

"I know what a day in your life is like. Talk about three weeks in one day," she rolled her eyes as she joked knowingly.

"Well, work has been a madness these past few weeks. Trying hard to launch my latest project as you know. So far, Miss Johnson's been pulling in a lot of her contacts to finance my vision."

"Yay," Olivia did a mock dance in her seat at the good news.

"This is good news. Even though I have my reservations about Nicole's mum. I'm happy for you," she rested her elbows on the table and wore a kind smile.

"Yeah, now that you mention, she's always rubbing it in my face that I owe her. I just feel like I'm walking into a trap she's spinning on the go," Eric sighed in exasperation, clearly disturbed by the gravity of his revelation.

"Hey, don't talk like that. Sorry, I even said anything. This is good news, okay? You'd be launching one of your biggest projects yet, you deserve a little celebration," she set her palm on the table, beckoning for Eric to place his hand in hers. She gave him a friendly squeeze to reassure him. "Sorry, I'm jinxing your deal. It's gonna be fine."

The waiter wheeled in their order on a cart and set down the dishes on the table, placing the ice bucket holding a fine bottle of wine right in the middle. He expertly uncorked the wine bottle and poured them both some of it before taking a bow and stepping out to give them some privacy.

"Let's talk about you, how's Olivia's Kitchen coming?" Eric asked after taking a sip of his wine.

"Well," she danced in her seat dramatically before continuing. "I'm putting together a little fundraiser dinner next week, I'll send you the details later. But just know that a lot of rich folks are going to be in attendance and I'll get my hands on their money," she joked and they both shared a laugh.

Olivia was a fiercely driven woman, working hard to get what she wanted for herself. Where others saw obstacles she saw stepping stones. Eric had a thing for women like her, but she'd spelled out her place in his life right from the onset. With her, it was genuine respect and admiration, nothing like what he felt in the presence of Miss Johnson. He shook his head to get her out of his mind. It was a fine evening and he was determined to enjoy it with his friend.

"Hey," Olivia snapped a finger in his face.

"Sorry, got lost in thought there. Were you saying something?" Eric apologized.

"I was asking who you were bringing as your date for my fundraiser," she repeated, a cunning smile dancing in her eyes.