Confounded: Part III - 2. Interlude

--==Tom’s POV==--

When Kit called me, I figured it was either one of two things; he either wanted to get together for a drink and touch base, which we did frequently enough, or he was calling to ask me to babysit the boys; he knew I enjoyed that. Much to my surprise, it was neither…

We spoke about the usual things first; the kids, Mischa, daily life stuff he knew I liked to hear about. There was always something to yap about. Then he pretty quickly steered to the reason he was calling.

“Hey Tom. Listen, I’m just gonna come straight out and ask; we have this…friend. He’s single, had a pretty long relationship, over a decade but he’s single now. He was over here the other day for dinner and we got to talking. Now, you told me the other day that pickings were slim; your words, not mine. Well, this one; phew, he’s a catch, man. Independent, rich, travels quite a bit…”

“What’s he do?” I cut in.

“Oh! He’s a…umm, executive advisor. He’s helped me quite a few times with difficult clients. Used to have his own company but gave that up, found it becoming stale.”
Hmm, interesting; someone who chose for himself instead of going on until retirement. I sat forward a bit, intrigued.

“Is he retired?”

“No. He just didn’t like the day-to-day of the same thing. He doesn’t have to work, but he likes to.”
Very interesting.

“How old is he?”

“Oh, I dunno…49? 50? Though if you go by the way he looks, you wouldn’t give him over 45. Athletic, I know he works out. Taller than you, pretty attractive. He ticks all your boxes, if you ask me.”
Really…

“Executive advisor, huh?”
I entered the title into Google on my laptop, which sat in front of me on the coffee table. Hmm, not bad. He wouldn’t be some dumb guy, for sure.

“Yep. He’s so your type! Bossy as all hell. I know you like that,” he chuckled.
Oh, ha. Ha. Ha. Funny. Oh alright, yes, I do like that.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, except him; he is, I promise.”
Wow, high praise for this friend!

“Single, huh? Recently?”

“No, a while ago. He’s ready to move on, and before anyone else snags him up; I immediately thought of you when he said he’d be open to dating again. I think he’s absolutely perfect for you.”
Wow, okay. I should meet this man then, if Kit thought he’d be perfect for me. He knew me well enough. And my sometimes hectic schedule.

“And does this superman have a name?”

“Oh, he does,” Kit snickered, “but I ain’t telling. You’ll look him up on Google or LinkedIn and know all sorts of stuff beforehand; that is way more fun to find out during dinner.”
Kit wasn’t dumb either.

“And he doesn't know who I am?”

“Scouts honor. I haven’t called him yet, I wanted to ask you first. I’m not gonna tell him who you are or what you do. Same reasons. And he’d find a lot more about you than you about him,” he chuckled.

“Alright,” I said, taking half a minute to mull it over. “Level playing field, then. He sounds like someone I might like to meet. So how’s this gonna work, then; you give me his number and I call him? Or you gonna give mine to him?”

“Neither! I’ll book a table at Luco’s; it’s a nice restaurant, good food, great atmosphere, romantic setting and lots of privacy. I’ll send you the details for it. And Tom?”

“What?”

“You’re not gonna regret this; he’s awesome, you’ll see.”

**********

I had already looked up Luco’s by the time Kit sent me the details; nice place! Their menu was pretty varied and there wasn’t anything on there I wouldn’t like to try out; the premises provided both for regular- as well as business crowd. Pictures shown on their website were definitely romantic, atmospheric lighting, lots of dark and shadows, which meant less risk of being recognized. Not that there was much chance of that, I’m no superstar but it does happen occasionally. Usually I can move around quite normally without being recognized, but if fans do, every single one of them has always been fun to meet and never pushy or weird. They just wanted an autograph and maybe a picture; and who am I to deny my bread and butter, huh? As said, though; rarely happens over here.

About two hours after Kit’s call, I got a message from him saying that my blind date was very much looking forward to meeting me. I began to get excited, then. I rarely date, I couldn’t even remember the last one, much less a blind date; that I’d never done and I wondered who this man was that Kit thought would be perfect for me. His description was vague but what he’d told me was enough to pique my curiosity. What would he be like? Would he be intimidated, once he found out who I was?

And then the fun began. What to wear. Well, that was easy; Luco’s dress code was clear, with smart casual as overall accepted. Since this man was a former CEO, I went with a white dress shirt, a silver vest and black pants; I would bet he would be in something similar. You dress what you know, right? And you can never go wrong with that, anyway.

Alright then; grooming time. The three S’s first; shower, shit and shave, I still remembered that part of dating. Check, with some manscaping while in the shower, nice and smooth.

Squeaky clean, after a royal one-and-a-half hours of personal pampering, I stepped outside and into my car, making my way to Luco’s, a 45 minute drive, mainly on the I-405, bringing me past where Kit now lived (Beverly Glen) and a little while later quite close to where my Uncle had used to live (Sherman Oaks). God, I hadn’t been here in years but I still recognized some places; if I turned here, I’d drive straight into the neighborhood where I had spent a summer, way back when, when I’d pretty much lost my marbles for a while.

Man, that had been so long ago. A different lifetime. A lifetime that had become the base of what I’m now known for, professionally: Gothic music.

I shook my head and continued on my way.

**********

Arriving a little early, I gave Kit’s surname to the hostess, Gilmore (he’d shot me a text, telling me that); she who told me to wait at the bar, where I ordered a drink. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone, and I found I was a little antsy; alcohol would help and an Uber was just a tap away. Taking a sip from a white wine spritzer, I turned around, watching the door.

Then a man came in. As in a man. Mine weren’t the only eyes drawn to the entrance either, as he spoke with the host and I couldn’t blame any of them. Very nice indeed! Ooh, I wondered if this was my date! Yes please! Nice strong shoulders, clad in light gray suit, white dress shirt and then the best of all; as beautiful a silver fox as I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Yum yum! Hair gray, shot with some parts pure white in a windswept side part manner and short dense stubble in the same colors, nicely maintained on his strong jaw and around the mouth. Dude, lose the stubble, I thought. Ugh, such a pity. Even if it looks kinda sexy, like on this guy, I just don’t like it. Clean shaven, please. It throws off the age as well, I guessed him in his early fifties.

Taller than most, I measured him by eye on the Kit-scale; I would guess the same height. Kit was 6’5. Mischa was his equal, same height.
He came closer, after nodding to the hostess and making his way to the bar, and there was something of a lazy swagger in his step, one hand in the pocket of his pants. His way of walking reminded me of Kit; he had that similar rolling movement in the shoulders, like he was working against the elements to move. Then I remembered another one. The original, of which Kit was a copy.

Nahhh. That couldn’t be him? I couldn’t remember him being this slender; he’d been more filled out. And he certainly hadn’t been gray when I’d last seen him. But the eyes, that slate-gray; the somewhat moody glance he threw the bartender as he ordered a club soda, and finally that voice; deep and a little hoarse. Yup.

It was him!

Pleasure coursed through me when I heard that voice; only one man I knew sounded like that, from a long time ago. Mitchell Gilmore, Kit’s dad. Uncle M. Oh my god, I hadn’t seen him since the funeral! Ha! What were the odds, running into him here! This was just a wonderful surprise.
He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I sidled up to him, bringing my drink while he threw that moody glance around the bar. He should really look a little more friendly; he gave off an aura of not wanting to be here.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine,” I said, coming up with that on the fly. Why not steal a line from the best, eh?
He appreciated that, I could tell; a smile formed.

When our eyes met, I was a little taken aback; up close it was very clear he’d lost a lot of weight and it showed, especially in his face. Those hollowed cheeks, eyes deeper set; he’d gotten older and that short stubble didn’t help. Always referred to as the ‘alpha male’ when I stayed with them, he didn’t really exude that sort of vibe any longer.

His eyes raked over me and for a small second, something showed on his face; then he banked it, his eyelids drooping a little and a frown formed. Ah, he didn’t recognize me. I smiled wider at that; let’s see how long it’d take him. Tilting his head a little, he then turned fully toward me and cautious recognition showed, his eyes widening.

“Tom?”
I grinned. Took him long enough! I stepped up and raised an arm over his shoulder for a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek. Yikes, that stubble prickled! He returned the hug and man, he still had strength left. He planted a kiss on my cheek in return, scratching me some more. Ugh, I really hate beards!
“Good lord, I had to look twice; you’ve changed!”

“Hi Uncle M,” I smiled, feeling a little bump behind me; some guy muscling his way in to order something at the bar. I stepped closer. “It’s good to see you too; been a long time!”
Right then, a guy entered the restaurant, speaking to the hostess. He had the right age, looked like he was alone; that just might be my date. I liked what I saw; he was attractive.

“....ieve what I’m seeing,” Uncle M. said and I returned my attention to him.

“Sorry?” I answered, keeping an eye on the guy at the door. Uncle M. followed my gaze and I leaned a bit to the side and up but then a woman stepped up beside the man, sliding an arm around him. “Pity,” I mumbled. Ugh, I was being a dick. “Sorry,” I apologized, “I’m being a douche. It’s just that I’m waiting for someone but so far, he’s a no show. I think I’m being stood up.” Oh well, that teaches me not to be dick to those around me. I smirked. “And you; what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, at this moment; I don’t look like some desperado now, drinking alone at the bar.”
Wouldn’t be the first time either; not that I didn’t get attention, I did, but it was always the wrong ones that came knocking.

“It’s alright,” he winked, “well, that son of mine has set me up with a blind…”
Oh, for fucking…Kit! I was going to kill him. I think Uncle M. realized it at the same time as I did.
“....date. Oh lord.”

Seriously? I shaved my fucking cock and balls, for god sakes; I even spent 15 minutes on the toilet, giving myself a deep cleanse. And for what; so Kit could paw off his dad to me?
I voiced my disappointment without realizing I was doing it. That asshole!

“Oh no...aww, he didn’t...oh man, and I was so looking forward to this evening. He basically sold me on this superman.”
Uncle M. made a miniscule jerk backwards.

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” he remarked. And I could just…die. Oh christ, I’d said that out loud, didn’t I? I just had to go and shit the bed, didn’t I? I’m a total dick, aren’t I? Yes, I absolutely am.
I’m such an asshole.

“Fuck, no! What I meant to say is…I didn’t mean to dismiss you as a disappointment, you’re very attractive. Shit, I…oh man, never an earthquake when you need one.”
I groaned. Well fuck, that was even worse; stuttering like some inexperienced adolescent, trying to make a stupid remark right. I just gave my best Paris Hilton impression and closed my eyes, sighing. “Nine-point-oh on the Richter Scale if you please? Now would do.”

“Oh, keep going, you’re doing great,” he snickered softly, lifting his drink.
Yep, I’m an asshole.

“Mitchell. Uncle…” I automatically corrected it.
Great. Add disrespect to the list.

“Oh, please; Mitchell,” he interrupted, “under the circumstances, you calling me uncle makes me feel very, very old and a dirty old man. We are on a date, after all.”
I could feel my face burn. Okay, so I wasn’t the only asshole here. I felt a little better, knowing he could take a little shit, at least.

“Stop it, you’re neither. Okay, can I start over?”
He smiled, inclining his head a bit. Thank you.

“Sure.”

“Mitchell…” I began, trying again, my mind going at warp speed for a good apology.

“Tom,” he responded, obviously enjoying my little fuck up.

“Don’t be a dick! I’m trying here,” I chuckled.
Make me work for it, why dontcha.

“Sorry,” he laughed, “please; continue…”
Yeah, laugh it up, fucker. But I relaxed a little. He could see I was struggling, which actually never, ever happens! I began again.

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” I said, and meant it. “I just meant to say I was looking forward to meeting someone new, but you’re far from a disappointment. I could’ve gotten a total doozy, instead.”
I smirked.
“You’re quite the opposite.”

“I am? How so?”
Duh. The man was no dog, jeez.

“Oh come on, when’s the last time you looked in a mirror? Fishing for a compliment?”
He softly laughed, inviting me to continue.

“Yes please. You owe me one, I think, for making me feel inadequate to your standards.”
Oh please. My standards? He’d be surprised, they weren’t that high. But fine; if he wanted a compliment, I’d shake something out of my sleeve.

“Pffft! Alright, fine; a compliment. Lemme see, ah! You’re a handsome, sexy man. I’m the luckiest guy in the world, to get to go on this date with you and…”

“Oh knock it off,” he laughed.
I wiggled his eyebrows. Hehe. I liked that he could take a little ribbing.

“Hey, you asked, I delivered.”
But he did deserve the truth.
“But seriously; you’ve got a presence. You step into a room and you are noticed. Like just now, when you came in? Thirty heads turned to the entrance.”
He seemed curious.

“Am I that scary?”

“Nah, more like; ‘here I am, deal with me’, that sort of thing. Which can be intimidating to some.”

“But not to you?”
Hmm…not so much now, no. A decade ago, though…

“No. Not anymore.”

“Ah, but I used to?”
Oh, he’d better believe it.

“Oh yeah. I used to steer clear of you whenever I could, but that’s a long time ago. I’m not that kid anymore.”

“No, indeed. You’ve grown up. It shows.”
That was nice to hear! He noticed, huh?
“You were a bit of a jerk as I remember.”

“A bit? I was a complete putz and a total asshole you mean; that’s how I recognize one now, when I see one. I know the material by heart.”
And I still can be, though it’s rare these days. Gotta be careful now, with phones in every hand; it takes a second to make a video, a minute to share it and then it’s online forever.

“Touché,” he smiled, then asked, “putz?”

“New York rubbed off on me, I think,” I answered, chuckling, “too many Italian friends; I’ll launch into a diatribe on politics in a minute.”

“Can’t wait.”

Just then, a member from the staff came over, telling us that our table was ready. “If you’ll follow me?”
Mitchell looked at me, raising an eyebrow. Ah, fuck it. Wasted evening anyway. I shrugged and got my drink.

“C’mon, why the hell not,” I spoked under my breath, “we’re here, Kit’s paying so we might as well get a nice meal out of it. I wonder what the most expensive thing is here, on the menu. I’m getting ten.”

Plenty of the homeless to feed. Would serve him right. Asshole.