“Sorry, Honey,” he says, not looking the least bit sorry, “I just appreciate beauty.”
I bet you do, pig.
My eyes want to roll so badly that it physically hurts to keep them trained on him but I manage and force a smile to my face as I nod. This guy’s going for the fucking gold in most atrocious date ever, and he’s off to a good start. It’s like someone took date one and two and mashed them together to create one super awful date to end this shitty experience.
“So, what do you do again, Baby?” he asks, and I barely hold back the cringe at all the pet names he’s throwing around.
“I’m a crime reporter.”
“Ah, that sounds terrible. I’m sure the pay sucks, too. I’m in real estate, and I gotta tell ya, Sweetheart, money is good.”
Trying my best to remain polite, I force a tight smile and nod. “Good for you.”
Only fifty more minutes.
Just last for another fifty minutes, Ali.
The waitress arrives with my wine, and I practically snatch it out of her hand, taking a large gulp before setting it back down. She gives me an understanding smile and leaves.
“I just sold this place yesterday for a couple mil. The commission on that is pretty sweet.”
I smile and nod as I take another drink. I wonder if he thinks that I actually give a damn about how much money he makes. I literally couldn’t care less and not just because I get the very strong feeling that he’s a raging douchebag. He leans closer, resting his elbows on the table like he’s going to tell me a secret, and winks.
“You like that? Depending on how well tonight goes, maybe we can go do a little shopping tomorrow and get you something sparkly.”
I would like to say that I’m shocked but in the ten minutes I’ve been here, I’ve gotten a pretty good read on this guy, and I’m not sure that he could say much that would surprise me. I’m also fairly convinced that he thinks he’s getting laid tonight. Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.
“I don’t really wear jewelry,” I say, downing more wine, and wishing I could just get the bottle.
“Some new clothes then,” he adds, looking down my body again. “Something sexy to wear when you’re not at work.”
“No, thank you,” I grit out, losing my patience with all this.
“Don’t be like that, Baby. Just trying to do something nice for you. Then again, I suppose you don’t really care about the money, do you?”
Oh, shit, maybe he does have a brain cell. I’m about to respond to him when he holds his hand up and keeps going.
“I mean, of course you’ll quit once you get married.”
I take another sip of wine, torn between chugging the thing and making it last. “Why would you think that?”
“Because that’s your job. Once you get married, it’s all about taking care of him and giving him babies. You know, carrying on the family name.”
I stare at him for a long moment, in total shock. I think my mouth is hanging open but I couldn’t really tell you for sure because my body is numb. Did he…just call me a breeding machine? Because I’m fairly certain that’s essentially what just came out of his mouth.
“Excuse me?”
“Sweetheart, you can get mad at me all you want but we both know it’s the truth. Your purpose is to have kids. Honestly, with a body like that,” he says, letting his eyes fall to my chest, “I don’t know how you haven’t been scooped up yet.”
Yep, he called me a breeding machine.
“I see, so my main purpose in life is to be bred,” I ask, my chest heaving in anger.
“Well, and raise them, of course. I know a lot of chicks get mad at me for this but it’s the way it should be. The man goes to work and makes the money, and it’s the woman’s job to take care of the house and the kids. I guess I’m just an old fashioned kind of guy.”
Or a dick.
I take another swig of my wine, so close to just chugging the rest of it but I have a feeling I’m going to want that last little bit because I don’t think he’s done.
“I don’t know why love even has to be in the picture for you women. Just find someone who makes your cunt drip and do your part for the human race, ya know?”
Ah, there it is.
I take the last swig of wine and stand up, grabbing my bag. “Will you excuse me, please? I need to use the restroom.”
He grins and nods. “Sure, Sweetheart.”
I hustle into the bathroom and roll my eyes at the couch nicer than the one I have in my living room, pushed up against the wall. I sink down and pull my phone out, dialing Izzy’s number.
“Hey, chick, what’s up?” she asks.
“I’m on a date, and it’s awful, Iz.”
“Oh, do you need me to get you out of there again?” she asks, her voice brighter, and I shake my head.
“No, I’m in the bathroom right now. But, seriously, what do I do?”
“What did he do that’s got you hiding in the bathroom?”
“Oh my god, he called me a breeding machine and straight up said that I’d quit my job when I got married so I could start popping out kids.”
“Jesus Christ,” she swears into the phone and then is silent for a moment. “Just get out of there, Ali. Like, right now.”
“I can’t do that. It’s so rude, and I won’t get the job.”
“What the hell kind of job are you trying to get with this asshole?” she yells, and I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment.
“It’s not with him, Iz. It’s with the paper.”
“What are you talking about?”
I sigh and go over to the door, peeking out to make sure he’s not coming to check on me. “It’s complicated.”
She’s quiet again for a moment, and then she sighs. “All right, just get out of there. Sneak out the back or something but just get out. Then tomorrow, Carly and I are coming over and you’re telling us everything, understand?”
“Yes, okay.”
“I’m serious, Ali. No brushing over details. You tell us everything.”
“Okay, I promise.”
“Good, now run the hell away from this guy, and call me when you’re home so I know that you’re safe.”
We hang up and I step out of the bathroom, still not sure if I can just leave. I want this job so damn bad, and I don’t know what will happen if I bail out on a date this early. Will they still count it?
“Excuse me?” a pretty young woman asks from behind the bar.
“Yes?”
“Are you here with Mr. Lucas?”
“Yes, I am.”
She nervously shifts her gaze, and my stomach rolls. “I just thought you should know that when I brought him another drink, he tried to get my number. I don’t know if you’re his girlfriend but I wanted to tell you that I’m not interested at all.”
And just like that, my decision is made. The bartender shifts again in front of me, looking terrified. I feel bad for her and put my hand on her arm to calm her down a little. She looks young, in college maybe, and I’m sure this situation is really awkward for her. “We’re on our first date and thank you so much for telling me. Do you think you could do me a favor?”