Chapter 3: Giraffes and other Masterpieces
I did a mental
review of which activities I should had been doing instead of being sitting there
while Edward ate. Then, hallelujah, my neurons finally decided to make synapse
again and I connected the dots. This Edward and our celebrity guest were the
same person! I might have missed my stop on the train, but there's no way in
hell I was that dense! I must have groaned loudly ‘cause Edward looked at me.
“You’re Edward
Cullen?” I asked ‘cause, yup, apparently I was that dense. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the facts. If my Edward and Cosmo’s most eligible
bachelor were one and only one person, the previous night made even less sense
than before.
He grinned and
nodded. I guessed he too realized I wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.
“I’m sorry. I
didn’t know you were…you” I heard myself say lamely. I wanted to join a
contortion class till I learnt to kick my own ass.
“I was aware of
that yesterday, baby. You don’t have any idea how refreshing was interacting
with a person who wasn’t trying to please me or use me for change. I think I
needed that”
“I was one second
away from cussing at you at the bar! Oh, my god! How embarrassing!”
My cheeks burnt
and I was sure the tips of my ears were crimson. Edward thought I was
hilarious. Or crazy. Or both…
“Why were you
going to cuss at me?” he managed to ask between fits of laugh.
“’Cos you snorted
when I ordered my SoCo and nobody mocks my booze!”
He laughed again.
He appeared to be really enjoying the situation. His laugh was clear and little
wrinkles formed around his eyes.
“I wasn’t mocking
you! It was the barman’s face what I found funny! Have you seen his face? His
eyes were like saucers when you put your glass down! I’m sorry, love”
I shook me head at
the ridiculous of the situation. To think I almost picked a fight with Atlantic City
“May I ask you
something?” I asked when we both finally sobered up.
He grimaced and
nodded.
“Why me?”
He looked at me in
confusion. What was he expecting me to ask?
“Why you what,
Bella?” He made a gesture I interpreted as if he wanted me to elaborate my
question. I wasn’t about to retell the things he did to me the previous night
so he could boost his ego. Yeah, dream on, hot-ass, this giraffe has her pride
too.
“Why did you pick
me? I’m sure there were lots of pretty girls present…Why the pity kiss?” So
much for pride. I just went and spilled all my midnight ramblings in three sentences.
“Why not you?”
“You’re answering
my question with another question. That hardly seems fair when you let me ask
in the first place”
“I’m serious,
Bella. You stated there’re pretty girls in the party, but when I listen to you
I feel that you aren’t counting yourself among them. Am I right?”
“Obviously. But…”
He cut me off.
“Don’t try to distract me, love. We still have to discuss the veracity of your
other assumption. Now explain me why you weren’t one of the pretty girls, and
please try to be very convincing ‘cos I’m looking at you right now and, in my
eyes, you’re still the most stunning creature in the room.”
To say I was
flabbergasted would have been the understandment of the century.
“Let’s just say
that I have a mirror, and I’ve been looking at this face for the last 25 years,
Edward. I’m not naïve and I’m certainly not gullible. I suffered my funky
genetics for a long time and I know what to expect. The reason why men approach
me depends on them and never on me: they don’t approach me cos I’m pretty; they
do ‘cos they’re desperate after the pretties
turned them down or ‘cos they can’t get anybody better to get laid. Yet you
don’t fall in any of those categories, that’s why I’m curious. Would you answer
that to me?”
If I didn’t know
better, I’d say that he was angry while I was explaining my point of view, but
he quickly schooled his face as soon as I finished my tirade.
“So you think
you’re a reject?” He asked me, ignoring my question. “A girl no men would pick
unless falling in one of the aforementioned categories?” His face was a mask of
perplexity.
“There’s a third
category, but I ruled you out from it ‘cause it didn’t apply to the situation”
I informed him.
“And that would
be…?”
“Boring ordinary
men with good intentions that look for a tamed woman to date without having to
worry about jealously” I deadpanned.
“I’d bet your date
from yesterday falls into that category” He said almost to himself, but I have
already started to feel the weight of what I have said. I never really questioned
why I was with Mike, but now, my subconscious seemed to have given me more
answers than I bargained for.
“Do you realize
that dating him for those reasons is demeaning to you, right?” He cocked an
eyebrow.
“Errr…I doesn’t
matter now. We’re discussing another thing”
“Ok, upsetting you
was never my intention, Bella. Let’s follow your previous line of thinking.
Explain me why you feel you have to settle for whatever guy from one of your
categorization groups and you can’t just go for the one you’d like.”
Damn him! Of all
the men on green earth, why was I having this conversation with the only one
who didn’t budge easily?
“How many women
taller than 6 feet
have you met, Edward?”
“I guess you’d be
the only one”
“How many women
with a nose this size do you know?” I angled my face so my nose could be seen
in all its fucked up glory.
“What kind of
question is that?”
“I’ll spare you
the moment, don’t worry. I think the answer is more or less the same you gave
me before, perhaps with the addition of somebody’s old aunt who goes by the
name of Mildred or Gertrude, so it doesn’t really matter. Now, they say you’re
good for business and this is a simple reasoning. If you have to sell a product
that has at least two very visible, very unique ‘qualities’” I quoted in the
air, all too aware that we weren’t talking about virtues, but merely
characteristics. I tried to rephrase it. “And those intrinsic aspects of the
product aren’t what one would call appealing to the market. What would be your
chances to effectively sell the product?”
He cooked an
eyebrow and smirked.
“You’re leaving a
very important factor outside of this particular equation, Bella.”
“Which one?”
“The amount. We’re
not talking about mass production here, we’re not trying to sell a big amount
of this ‘product’” He looked at me clearly amused. “What we have in here is sui generis. I don’t need to build a
market to sell something that’s one of a kind. Would you need a market for the
‘The Great Star of Africa’ or the ‘Mona Lisa’? Your product is like a
masterpiece, a unique rare gemstone, a precious antique: all you have to do is
find an expert. A connoisseur, a
sybarite who would appreciate it for its real value”
“You make it look
easy. I’m almost tempted to go to Sotheby’s. Or should I start at e-bay?”
“And you had the
need to go and degrade my product, right?”
I laughed. The
situation was so surrealist that it was funny. There we were, discussing my
chances in the market. I, trying to explain why I was reject making a business
analogy and Edward comparing me to the world’s biggest diamond.
“It’s always a
pleasure hearing you laugh, it raises the price considerably.” He said gently caressing my hand with his long fingers.
I heard somebody
calling me, so I knew my break was over. Edward put a small piece of dark paper
in my hand before I could stand. It was one of his business cards, elegant and
classy, but the most surprising thing was that his cell number was written on
hand under his name.
Did he really want
to talk to me again?
Sliding his card
in my pocket, I reluctantly stood up to leave and he surprised me again by
taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. It was a fast kiss, but I felt the
intensity of his gaze before he released my hand, and it was something I had
never felt before.
Puzzled, I wished
him a good night and headed to the back of the restaurant.
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