Anita should have been wringing her hands. Wiping them against each other as if washing. The limousine took her to the Daily Grind. She didn't sweat or fidget, nothing like this had ever happened before. Ben always treated her courteously, but professionally, too. He'd never taken her out to lunch unless he was meeting with some big shot or other. To call her out of nowhere and request she make haste to meet him at a dive coffee shop. Her dive coffee shop. On any other day Anita would be a nervous wreck, today, however, Anita felt only an amusing curiosity.
She had an idea that Ben had been dabbling in something he wasn't comfortable doing on a professional level. Some huge new reveal, perhaps. Gambling, that's what Anita suspected. How he would ever gamble away his fortune was beyond Anita. Perhaps that's what Ben had called her out for. A confession of some guilt.
Actually, Anita thought, that wouldn't be terrible. A tickling at the back of her mind, back and back where it's really dark. A tickling, a notion: It's not terrible if Ben confesses some wrong doing or character flaw, this gives me leverage. She might even be able to pull his strings and make him dance, make him do... other...
"We're here, Miss Anita." The limo driver, Chris, was standing at the open rear door.
She stepped out onto the side walk and looked up at the big light up sign, 'The Daily Grind'. As the limo pulled away from the curb, the corners of Anita's lips perked up in a slight smile. My, doesn't Chris have nice eyes, Anita thought and filled her chest with air, stretching her shirt. Anita wasn't nervous at all.
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Ben sat tapping his fingers on the edge of his empty coffee cup. His other hand twirled a very expensive looking pen. He tried to sort everything out. Too much he didn't understand himself. He'd let himself slide in the last few months. God, he hoped it hadn't been a full year. Uncle Henry had a friend - younger guy, but he liked to help Henry turning wrenches - and sometimes he'd start up on Henry about the drinking, quoting some AA stuff. Henry didn't talk about that stuff much, mostly when he really tied on. Something this guy told Henry once occurred to Ben: A day in the bottle is equivalent to a year in real time. This thought, this saying, this notion arrived in Ben's head in frightening detail and sharpness.
Ben's fingers stilled, the pen took one last slow motion, shiny, revolution and stopped. The limousine pulled up to the curb had already stopped. Ben's mind roared, he had nothing prepared, nothing planned. His entire life had a plan; week, day, hour, minute. And now Chris is opening the door for her.
The shiny pen fell to floor. Proving to be worth its prestigious look, the pen made nearly as much noise as his cell phone had. Ben felt the heat rise in his cheeks. His entire being wanted to explode, leaving a ruined pile of expensive clothing. He felt as if his head might burst, it certainly was warm enough. As he bent over to retrieve his pen, he caught a glimpse of the underside of the table.
There in crude Sharpie. No talent here, some little kid. Some Future Felon of America, scrawled a figure down here. Ben only looked at it for a second, yet he knew what it was, he was offended by the unskilled hand that made it but then he thought of the picture on his office wall.
When he straightened back up in the seat, he saw Anita outside the plate glass windows. Something way back and further still, way down in the darkness tickled in Ben's mind. She had such a beautiful smile.
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As Anita walked under the sign and through the door, the piece of graffiti she'd not really thought about passed through her peripheral vision. She didn't think much about it now, either. Not on the surface. Her confident stride took her through the entry way and straight to the table where Ben sat.
"Hello. Ben," Anita said. She kept her eyes on his the entire time she pulled out her chair, sat down, and smoothed her skirt.
"A-Anita! So glad you could come down. I... um, I know this is unorthodox, for us to meet like this. I'm... I'm..." His face flushed. He knew he was blushing. He did not know why this was such a difficult thing to do.
"Ben, it's okay. Really, Ben, whatever you need to discuss with me, I'm sure I can handle it. I'm a big girl, Ben." The corners of her mouth quirked slightly, almost a smile.
Ben was unbalanced to the extent he almost didn't recognize this odd behavior. Everything had a place and everything in its place, everything under control. Every situation could be dealt with. Not this one, this situation had no handles, nowhere to grasp, to get this thing under control. He brought his eyes up to meet hers. She continued to stare, almost unblinking. Ben took a deep breath, held it for a second and in that second he saw into those eyes. His gaze took him through those eyes - so beautiful - past the millions and billions of reactions, past the speed of thought and he was in the darkness. He exhaled his breath. Very under control.
"You're eyes, Anita," Ben swam in the comforting darkness while he spoke. "Your eyes are just the most brilliant, beautiful eyes I've ever seen." Breath escaped through his nose. "My god."
Instantly, Anita was self aware. Aware of herself the way she had been earlier when she had no face cream. The relaxed pose felt unnatural, she fidgeted and sat up straight. Perhaps a little too quickly she brought her hand back away from the middle of the table. Was I really going to touch his hand? Anita wondered.
"Anyway," Ben sat forward, "I wanted to talk to you about something I've been doing as, say, a side project. Do you have any plans this afternoon, evening?" Ben held his eyes on hers now. Anita looked back and forth between the condiments arranged on the table.
"I... guess, I don't. I don't have any plans, no."
"Good, I've got to pick up my uncle from the airport in a little while. We can have dinner. You can meet my Uncle Henry." Ben smiled, "And we'll discuss this business. This, situation."
"That sounds fine, Mr. Stra... Ben, I mean."
"Now, what kind of coffee do you drink?"
They sat in the coffee shop in the afternoon city commotion and talk. Well, Ben talked. He told her about the property out in the country, about the strange compulsion, this undefined feeling he's been having lately. The need for secrecy. He even talked to her about going out to Collin's County. She agreed, hell, she'd been all over the globe with him. He even mentioned something he wanted to show her back at the office. He couldn't describe it, he said, trying to put words of description would never justify it. She looked up at him with a steady eye when he talked about the 'thing' in his office.
That dark thing way back, and back farther still, tickled slightly. Way back behind those beautiful eyes, the dark thing in the darkness. Not in the color of any sort, in the color of vacuum, in the no color.
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