In the faint light of the bedroom, Chris’s expression looked sheepish. “Uh, we need to stop. In my rush to get here, I didn’t have a chance to take care of things.”
He wanted to stop? What for…? Oh.
“It’s okay,” Rei assured him. “I have protection in my purse.”
Chris grinned at her. “You really did think I was a sure thing, didn’t you?”
She shrugged while returning his smile. “I was feeling unusually confident when I called you, so…”
“So hurry up and get that condom.”
Rei rolled off the bed and scrambled for her handbag. Within seconds she’d returned to the bed and tossed several strips of foil packages onto the comforter. Chris looked at her, then at the dozen condoms and back at her.
“Your confidence is going to kill me for sure.”
Responding to the humor in his voice, she laughed. “Maybe. But what a way to go, huh?”
Dear Reader,
The original title of this story was You’ve Got Male because I wanted to explore the phenomenon of e-mail communication and online dating. But, as often happens to me, the lighthearted romp I had in mind segued into an exploration of how to find and accept love.
Neither Rei Davis nor Chris London believes in love. They don’t trust that it will last, and think “happily ever after” is only for other people. At least, until they find each other. With the help of instant messages, a fantasy brought to life and a few leaps of faith, both of their wishes will come true, because love and forgiveness have the power to heal.
I wish you happy reading and I wish you joy,
Mia
P.S. You can contact me via my Web site,
www.miazachary.com. I’d love to hear from you.
TO: Rei Davis
FR: Phoebe J. Hollinger
RE: Are you busy?
If you don’t already have plans with Darren tonight, do you want to get together?
P.J.
Hollinger/Hansen: San Francisco, Tokyo, London, New York
Diversified Financial Services, Individual Client Commitment
TO: Phoebe J. Hollinger
FR: Rei Davis
RE: Tonight
I don’t have any plans. Derek took me to The Top of the Mark last night. (Keep your I-told-you-so to yourself, though. The irony that was not lost on me.)
I finally broke up with him. (Keep your I-never-liked-him-anyway to yourself, too.)
Rei
Unified Family Court, 400 McAllister Street, San Francisco
All kids need is a little help, a little hope and somebody who believes in them. —Earvin “Magic” Johnson
RE: Single again
I told you The Mark was a weird choice for a date. That’s where sailors had their last drink before shipping out to the Pacific in WWII.
Well, I’m sorry it’s over but, hell, I never liked Derek anyway. Like the other men you’ve chosen, he was opinionated, self-righteous and argumentative. You shouldn’t date lawyers.
When are you going to admit that I’m always right?
P.J.
RE: Already over it
Nice ego there, honey. You should have that checked.
And I told you not to say I told you!
I’m not as sorry as maybe I should be. Then again, it’s not like we were serious.
Rei
RE: You can’t be serious
Never had sex with him, huh?
I think one of our Break Away Nights is in order. I heard about this new place, Divas. Thursday night is Ladies Night so there’s bound to be great people (by that I mean men-who-are-not-lawyers) for you to meet. I’ll pick you up at your house at nine.
P.J.
RE: Break Away Night
Is that my nine or your nine? Because my nine is actually nine, whereas your nine usually means ten. So why don’t we say eight? That way we’ll both be on time.
Recess is almost over. See you later.
Rei
SUPERIOR COURT Commissioner Rei Davis clicked the button to send the message to her best friend then signed out of her e-mail program. Turning her chair, she gazed out the small grimy window to the French Renaissance facade of the War Memorial Opera House across Van Ness Avenue. She’d never actually been to an opera or even listened to one to find out if she liked it. Something else to add to her Life List.
Life. The word had a wonderful feel, one that spread through her like bright rays of sunlight through cloud. She’d just gone for her checkup with Dr. Solís this past Monday, April seventh, one year to the day…. She was blessed to still be alive and she knew it.
As she heard the outer door to her chambers open, she turned to see Mary Alice, her court services clerk. The petite older woman held an armful of case files, a harried expression on her kind face. “They’re ready for you, Commissioner. Five walk-ins were just added to the docket, including a case that was transferred from Judge Shuford.”
She schooled her expression, repressing a sigh. She’d already handled thirteen cases before calling a recess for lunch. Now the afternoon caseload would either run late or have to be rescheduled.