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  “Come on. We can fly up together. Consider it a work trip if you want.”

  “Adler’s busy, isn’t she? You need someone to keep you from getting bored?”

  “No. Well, yes. Adler is busy, technically. But I hadn’t planned on asking her, anyway. I’m asking you. We can stop at a few hotels or B&Bs on the way down here and get some ideas.”

  “I have Wes.”

  “Wes is seventeen,” Paxton reminded.

  “Exactly, Wes is seventeen.”

  “He’s a good kid, Chris. I’ve spent a lot of time with him these past few weeks. He can hang by himself for a few nights.”

  “A few nights?” Chris asked.

  “Leave tomorrow. Spend tomorrow night at my place. I have to pack up some of my stuff to load into the car. The movers are taking care of the rest. I figured we’d leave Saturday morning. We could look up a few places to stop on the way and pick one to stop at on Saturday night. Do the same thing Sunday night. We could call it research. We’d be back on Monday.”

  “So, three nights?”

  “Yes, Chris.” She chuckled at Chris’s response. “I’m driving, and the business is paying for it. All you need to do it say yes.”

  “I don’t know, Paxton. Eight hours a day with you is already a lot,” the woman replied, but Paxton knew she was only partially serious. “I don’t know if I could handle three full days and nights.”

  “I have a second bedroom at my apartment, and we’d get two rooms at wherever we stop, Chris. Technically, it’s only the three days, then.” She winked at her playfully.

  “How are you not a lawyer? You’re pretty good at arguing,” Chris said unfolding her arms. “Fine. I’ll go, but only because I’ve never been to Seattle.”

  “You realize we’re spending less than twenty-four hours there, right?”

  “I realize that, but at least I could say I’ve been there. I’ll go home and pack. When should I meet you?”

  “I’ll book your flight now. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning,” Paxton replied.

  ◆◆◆

  The flight to Seattle was uneventful. Chris had been reading a book the whole time. Paxton had listened to music on her phone while playing a game. Neither of them had said much since Paxton picked her up that morning. Truthfully, Paxton wasn’t entirely certain why she’d invited Chris along on this little trip. It had been a spur of the moment thing. She’d said it before she’d thought it through.

  They took a car from the airport to Paxton’s apartment in the city. It wasn’t a long drive, but still, neither of them spoke of anything of consequence. When they got to Paxton’s apartment, Paxton showed Chris around, pointing out the second bedroom where she’d be sleeping. Most of Paxton’s belongings were all packed up, but she’d left the bedding on both beds and the essentials out for the movers to finish up after she left.

  “So, I don’t have food here, obviously. I was thinking we could go out to dinner,” Paxton said after Chris came out of the bathroom.

  “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

  “There’s a great pizza place over–” Paxton stopped the moment she caught Chris’s angry expression. “I’m kidding.”

  “You better be. I’ve had enough pizza for a lifetime.”

  Paxton thought for a moment and said, “Let me pick the place, okay? I promise, no pizza.”

  Chris had nodded then. Paxton knew where she’d take her. They dressed somewhat casually, though Paxton had thrown on a pair of dark gray slacks with a button-down shirt. Chris had put on a pair of jeans so dark blue, they didn’t really look like jeans. She looked great in a polo shirt in a pink that was so light, it almost looked white. Paxton drove them to the restaurant after calling ahead to make sure they’d have a table. When they arrived, she valeted the car, and they headed inside.

  “Paxton, this place is really nice. I can’t wear jeans in here,” Chris said as she tugged on Paxton’s arm, trying to pull her back outside.

  “We can wear whatever we want. There’s no dress code. Besides, I know the chef. I sold him his house. I called ahead. We have a table in the back. Come on.” Paxton pulled on Chris’s arm instead and moved them to the podium. “Table for Paxton Williams?” she asked the hostess.

  The woman in her early twenties checked the list in front of her and said, “Yes, of course. Welcome back, Miss Williams. Right this way.”

  They sat down at the table Paxton had grown accustomed to in this restaurant. It was on the seventeenth floor of a high rise and had a beautiful view of the skyline and the water just beyond. It was also a Michelin Star restaurant that served delicious French cuisine. Paxton watched as Chris looked around the restaurant, seemingly uncomfortable. She wondered if she’d made the right decision bringing her here.

  “Hey, are you okay? We can go if you don’t want to eat here.”

  “No, it’s fine. I just don’t usually go to these kinds of places.”

  “Where do you usually go?” Paxton asked as their waiter approached. He politely interrupted them to deliver the specials for the evening and ask for their drink order. “Wine?” Paxton asked her.

  “I’m okay with water,” Chris replied.

  “Can we get the 2007 Chateau Palmer Bordeaux?” Paxton asked. The waiter nodded and left them. “It’s cheaper by the bottle. I’ll drink it if you really don’t want any, but you should try it. It’s good.”

  “I’m not much of a wine person,” Chris replied.

  “Beer, then? Martini?” Paxton asked. Chris shook her head. “Do you not drink at all?”

  “I do, every now and then; but not often.” She looked around the restaurant again.

  “Hey, Chris?”

  “Yeah?” Chris met her eyes.

  “Are you okay? There are other restaurants. I don’t mind picking another one.”

  “I’m just not this person.”

  “What person?”

  Chris sighed and replied, “Paxton, I can’t afford all this. I don’t fit in here.”

  “Why do you keep saying that? That you don’t fit in here? Why wouldn’t you fit in here?”

  “Paxton, I’m wearing the nicest clothes I own right now. I have a black dress somewhere in my closet, but outside of that, this is it.” She motioned to herself. “I’m wearing jeans and a polo shirt to a fancy restaurant.”

  “That guy’s wearing a polo.” Paxton pointed at a man with a female companion two tables over. “And she is way too young to be his wife. Mistress, maybe.”

  “Or daughter,” Chris replied.

  “I doubt it. Let’s go with mistress,” Paxton replied with a smirk. “And she’s wearing jeans, Chris. I think you look great.” She shrugged one shoulder.

  The waiter brought their wine over, along with Chris’s water with lemon. He uncorked the wine and poured a small amount in Paxton’s glass, which she swirled only for a moment before she took a sip. She didn’t smell the wine or dawdle too much, nodding at the waiter that it was acceptable. She didn’t want Chris to feel out of place any more than she already did. He filled her glass and then filled the one he’d brought for Chris, which the woman didn’t touch until the waiter took their order and departed. Chris had ordered a salad. Paxton had noticed it was the cheapest thing on the menu. Paxton had ordered the steak she usually got when she came here. It had a French Bordelaise Red Wine Sauce and was served with always perfectly prepared vegetables.

  Paxton raised her wine glass and said, “To us, embarking on this adventure together.”

  “Which adventure? The hotel, or this trip?” Chris asked.

  “Both, I guess.”

  Chris stared at her own wine glass, nibbled on her lip, grabbed it, and they clinked them together in a toast. Paxton watched Chris take a sip of the wine hesitantly before she took a much longer drink. Paxton smiled at her then. Chris met her eyes and smiled back.

  CHAPTER 9

  The wine was amazing. Chris was certain she’d never had wine as good as the wine she’d just finished. Pax
ton had poured the remainder of the bottle into Chris’s glass after topping off her own. Chris had just consumed the last sip after finishing a salad that was both rustic-looking and hearty. She’d never had a salad with dry-cured ham – which sounded so much better in French, walnuts, and blue cheese. It was good, though. She’d enjoyed it enough, despite the flavors being so foreign to her. Paxton had offered her a bite of her steak. Chris had declined, but she had sampled the grilled asparagus on Paxton’s plate. It was also delicious. When the check came, Paxton took it immediately. She slid her card into the folio without so much as looking at Chris, and asked the waiter to take it away. When he returned, he thanked both of them. Paxton signed the receipt, pocketed her card, and they were off.

  “So, I was thinking… We could go to Pike Place, which is the touristy market. You should see it once in your life, though. It’s got the world’s first Starbucks and the famous fish throwers, but they’re done for the day. We could check them out tomorrow, though, before we leave the city.”

  “Okay.” Chris followed Paxton out the door of the restaurant and watched her pass the ticket to the valet to retrieve her car. “What time do we need to be on the road tomorrow?”

  “Whenever we want,” Paxton replied, turning back to her. “We could grab breakfast over in the market and leave after that. Tonight, though, I have something I want to show you.” She smiled at Chris.

  “What’s that?”

  “Come on.” Paxton motioned toward the car as it pulled up in front of them.

  They climbed in, and Paxton drove them away from the restaurant. They made a few turns here and there before Paxton pulled them into a parking garage, pulled a ticket from the machine, and parked the car. Chris assumed they were walking from there. She got out of the car. Paxton did as well and nodded to the right. Chris followed. They walked to the elevator. They took it to the ground floor and turned left onto the street. They took one more turn. Then, Paxton nodded toward the red door of an industrial building that was painted white. There was no sign that indicated this door was for any particular purpose. Nor was there a sign that said this was a place of business.

  “Open it,” Paxton said.

  Chris did because she had no reason not to trust Paxton. Paxton followed her inside a small room that looked to be the size of a bathroom. It had one small table with an old red rotary dial phone. Chris looked around the dimly lit space and saw nothing else. She turned to Paxton, who wasn’t saying anything.

  “Pax? Where the hell are we?”

  “Pick up the phone, dial two-zero-six. When someone picks up, tell them you need two tickets for the rainbow ride.”

  “What?” Chris laughed at her.

  “Just do it.” Paxton laughed back.

  Chris picked up the phone and did what she was told. A man answered, and she felt ridiculous when she said, “I need two tickets for the rainbow ride.”

  “Password?” the man asked.

  “He’s asking for a password,” Chris whispered to Paxton.

  “Tell him the doctor is in,” she said.

  Chris said the words into the phone. The man didn’t say anything back. He just hung up. Chris replaced the phone and wondered if she’d said it wrong. As she turned to Paxton, though, one of the walls in the room slid away, revealing a much larger room behind Paxton.

  “What the hell?”

  “Welcome to the Midnight Oasis Speakeasy. It’s a big Seattle secret. We aren’t supposed to bring tourists here, so if anyone asks, you’re a Seattle native.”

  Paxton ushered her into a room that was just as dimly lit as the small room they’d just left. Chris watched the wall slide back into its place. She turned back around at the feel of Paxton’s hand in her own. Paxton entwined their fingers to pull Chris in the direction of a wall-long dark wood bar that had deep red lighting emanating from beneath and behind it.

  “What is this place?” Chris asked in a near-whisper.

  People were mostly either sitting at the bar or at the tables that faced a small stage where a man was playing acoustic guitar. No one paid any attention to them save the bartender, who was a man in his mid-twenties. He wore what Chris had always seen bartenders and waiters wear in movies or TV shows about the nineteen-twenties. It was all so glamorous and kind of seedy at the same time.

  “Southside,” Paxton said to the bartender, who nodded at her. “Chris, want a real prohibition-style drink?”

  “Sure,” Chris replied, not knowing what else to say. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

  “Two of those, then,” Paxton said to the bartender and then swiveled her stool in Chris’s direction. “It’s gin, mint, lime juice, and simple syrup. It got its name thanks to some gangsters on the South Side of Chicago, trying to cover up the taste of their terrible and illegal hooch.”

  “How did you find this place?” Chris asked as she watched the bartender muddle the fresh mint in front of their eyes.

  “I sold it to the owner. One of the few commercial properties I’ve worked on.” Paxton watched the guitarist on stage for a moment. “It’s invite-only. Of course, the invitees tell people they know about it. The crowd starts to grow. They change the password every so often to keep it small and intimate. I thought you’d like to see it. I think it’s cooler than the Space Needle, but if you want to check that out before we leave tomorrow, we can.”

  “No, this is pretty great. I’ve never been to a bar like this.”

  “They have theme nights sometimes. They did a steampunk night, which was pretty cool.”

  Two identical drinks were placed in front of them. To Chris, it kind of looked like a margarita with its light green shade. She liked margaritas, so she picked it up, watched Paxton take a sip of her own, and then followed suit. It was tart, with a hint of sweetness from the simple syrup. It kind of tasted like summer. She enjoyed it and took another sip. She watched Paxton watch the performer, noting how her green eyes had flecks of copper and gold in them. The woman’s lips weren’t full, but they were very kissable. That was how Chris would describe them. Paxton’s lips were kissable. She placed her drink back down on the bar. If Paxton’s lips were kissable, that meant Paxton herself was kissable. That wasn’t right. Paxton annoyed her. She’d been rude to her. She was a woman of means who clearly didn’t even care that the check on the bar said they owed thirty-two dollars for their drinks. Chris’s eyes got wide when she noticed that. She turned back to Paxton, who was now looking back at her.

  “Are you okay?” Paxton asked. “Do you need to go?”

  “What? No. Why?” Chris asked back.

  “I don’t know. I was afraid you were feeling uncomfortable or something,” Paxton replied.

  “I’m okay.” Chris smiled at her, picked up her drink, and took another long sip. “This is good.”

  Paxton smiled at her, turned, and saw the check. She placed her card on top of it before turning to watch the performer on stage again. It was then that Chris realized that Paxton wasn’t flaunting her wealth. She wasn’t trying to show off. She was trying to show Chris a good time in her city. They hadn’t actually talked all that much. Chris wondered if Paxton was giving Chris the headspace to get used to this new part of their relationship. They’d gone from acquaintances to a working relationship very quickly. Paxton hadn’t been acting like a manager or boss, though. Honestly, Paxton had been acting more like a partner to Chris, which made no sense, because Paxton was the one in charge and with the purse strings.

  They finished their drinks and watched as another performer got on stage to play the saxophone. It was a loud instrument, but in that space, despite how small it was, it felt perfect. Chris found herself looking at Paxton as the musician played a slow, bluesy song. She smiled as Paxton tucked her hair behind her ears occasionally. She ordered another round for both of them, feeling slightly tipsy already but not wanting to leave. She ordered them each a fourteen-dollar Hemingway daiquiri, which the bartender explained was rum and lime with maraschino liqueur and grapefruit.
It sounded good. She slid Paxton’s over to her, and was rewarded with a smile and a wink that had her thinking losing twenty-eight dollars plus tip was worth it.

  After they finished their second drink, Paxton turned and whispered in her ear, “Are you ready to go?”

  She wasn’t, but she knew Paxton was. She nodded yes. Paxton pulled back and smiled at her again. Chris smiled back, feeling the alcohol nicely, along with the heat from her reddened cheeks. She hoped she didn’t look too foolish. Maybe it was dark enough in the bar to hide it.

  Paxton drove them back to her apartment, which took only fifteen minutes and wasn’t enough time for Chris to get over the feeling of being drunk. She didn’t want to be drunk in front of her boss, but it was more than that. She didn’t want to be drunk in front of Paxton.

  Paxton unlocked the door to the apartment and ushered Chris inside. Without a word, the woman went to her refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water. She handed one to Chris before leaving the living room for the bathroom. A few moments later, Paxton emerged with ibuprofen. She passed two to Chris with a wink.

  “Just in case,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Chris replied and took the pills from her.

  “I’m going to hop in the shower and get some sleep. You know where everything is, right?”

  “Oh,” Chris said. “Yes.”

  “Cool. See you tomorrow.” Paxton went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

  Chris was left in the living room wondering how she’d lost the moment she’d had in the bar. It had felt so peaceful there. Paxton’s smile had lit up her whole face. Her eyes and those colorful flecks had Chris wondering what they’d look like from other angles; like, from above and below. She’d been so happy in that bar that she’d forgotten about everything else going on in her life. Now, Paxton was in the shower, having not felt the same thing, apparently. And Chris was left to sit on the end of the bed in the guest room trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

  CHAPTER 10

  Paxton woke up the next morning feeling tired, but excited. She’d fallen asleep around midnight, which was fine because she’d had an amazing night with Chris. After they’d gotten over the initial awkwardness of being alone together for the first time, things had gone well. Paxton was actually surprised, though, because she realized, as she stood in front of her mirror for one of the last times, that she knew very little about Chris. Wes hadn’t exactly filled her in on the details of his life with his sister. She wouldn’t have put him in that situation, anyway.