Quaddra arrived at the restaurant at exactly 7:30 p.m. – the time that they’d agreed on – while Mary was fashionably late, but only by ten minutes. The restaurant itself was indeed a ‘hidden’ gem, easily missed by anyone who didn’t know about it because, from the outside, it did truly look just like a regular pawnshop, with guitars, stereos and old typewriters displayed on the front window, together with a large neon sign that read ‘Cash for Gold’.
Mary wore the outfit that she’d bought that afternoon – a very elegant/casual black dress with silver details adorning both shoulder straps.
Quaddra, too, wore a much less formal outfit than he had the previous week.
The chemistry between Mary and Quaddra was, once again, off the charts from the get-go. As they took a table, towards the back of the restaurant, Mary wasn’t really sure of Quaddra’s intentions, but all that she could think of was ‘how fast can we order and eat so that I can rip those clothes off your body?’
Quaddra was thinking exactly the same, but they both did their best to act as civilized as they possibly could. They ordered eight different tapas dishes between them and a very nice bottle of Rioja Reserva. The conversation was, just like last Wednesday, very light – books, music, theater, films… and all of it was punctuated by a lot of laughter – until Quaddra decided to touch on a much more delicate subject.
‘Mary,’ he said, as he refilled her wine glass, then his. ‘I’ve got something that I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘OK,’ Mary said, noticing that Quaddra’s expression had gained a more serious quality.
‘You told me that in the past year,’ he began, ‘you’ve been moving around from place to place like a nomad, right?’
‘A little… yeah,’ Mary replied, her tone skeptical.
‘And I assume that the reason for that,’ Quaddra continued, ‘is because it makes it a lot harder for anyone to be able to track you down when you’re moving from city to city, and state to state… and by “anyone”, I mean – your ex-husband.’
Mary sipped her wine slowly, her eyes studying Quaddra.
‘Are you doing your thing again?’ she asked. ‘The read-between-the-lines party trick?’
‘I am,’ Quaddra admitted. ‘And I’m sorry, but this time there’s a good reason for it.’ He paused and checked himself. ‘At least I think it’s a good reason.’
‘Is that right?’
Are we getting ready to do another ‘get up and go’ job here?the voice inside Mary’s head asked.
‘Well,’ Quaddra came back. ‘Just hear me out for one minute, OK? If you think that it’s a crap reason, I’ll drop the subject and I’ll never come back to it again. How does that sound?’
Mary had another sip of her wine and her left eyebrow lifted slightly at Quaddra.
He understood that as ‘OK’.
‘Since you’ve been moving around a lot, I’m assuming that you’re renting short-term rental accommodations – maybe three months at a time, maybe more… I don’t know… but probably nothing longer than a year, am I right?’
Mary stayed silent.
Quaddra took that as a ‘yes’.
‘And the way I see it,’ he continued, ‘the reason why you keep on moving around, is because one of the ways in which you could be tracked down would be by someone finding your name tied up to a lease agreement somewhere in the country.’
Mary still said nothing back.
Quaddra nodded at her. ‘Let me warn you that I’m taking all your silences as a positive response.’ He waited. Got nothing back. Proceeded. ‘OK, so here’s the reason why I brought all this up.’
Mary braced herself.
Quaddra took a sip of his wine before continuing. ‘Take one of my apartments,’ he said, his tone casual.
‘Excuse me?’ Mary cocked her head back just a little.
‘I’m an investor, remember?’ Quaddra explained. ‘And one of the fields that I invest in is property. I have several properties scattered all around California… quite a few right here in San Francisco.’ He paused, giving Mary a chance to better grasp what he was saying. ‘Take one of my apartments… or a house if you prefer.’
Mary sat back on her chair before letting out a deflated breath. ‘I don’t need charity, Quaddra.’ She sounded offended and a little angry. ‘I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. I’m also capable of paying for my own place.’
‘Oh no.’ Quaddra immediately sat forward on his chair, raising both hands at Mary in a ‘just a second’ gesture. ‘You got me all wrong – probably because I explained this to you like a second grader trying to explain algebra.’ He clarified, knowing that he could’ve done a better job. ‘I’m sure you’re more than capable oftaking care of yourself and paying for your own place. I wasn’t offering you charity, Mary. Not at all.’ The new pause was a much more thoughtful one. ‘Let me try this again, OK? Last time you told me that the contract on the place that you’re living at the moment is coming to an end, and that you’d have to make a decision on where to go from here, right?’ He didn’t wait for a reply. ‘So, what I’m suggesting here is – instead of going back to a realtor to find your next apartment, or house, or whatever… rent it from me.’