Gold Digger – Story 6 – THE DINNER

Tonight was dinner with Richard.

I spent three hours getting ready for a man I was absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent not emotionally invested in.

The blowout held.

The dress worked.

The plan was intact.

Which, in hindsight, should have made me more suspicious.

The car arrived at seven forty-five.

Not a cab. Not an Uber. A car – the specific kind that has someone’s name on a card in the back and water you didn’t ask for already open and the driver doesn’t make conversation because he’s been told not to.

I sat in the back and opened the spreadsheet.

Closed the spreadsheet.

Opened it again.

Closed it.

The restaurant had no prices on the menu.

Obviously I had looked this up.

A review described it as restrained perfection.

I spent ten minutes figuring out what facial expression that required.

Richard was already there when I arrived.

Already there and already standing.

Not because he’d just gotten up – he’d been waiting. There’s a difference and I clocked it immediately and put it directly into the column marked concerning.

“You found it,” he said.

“I did,” I said.

“Good.”

That was it. No comment on how I looked. No performance of noticing. He just – looked at me the way people look when they’re actually seeing something rather than reviewing it, and then he pulled out my chair and that was that.

I had prepared for charm.

I had not prepared for manners that didn’t require an audience.

We talked for two hours.

I know because I checked.

It felt like less. That kept happening with Richard – time moved differently in his vicinity and I was filing that under logistical problem and trying not to think about what else it might be filed under.

He asked about my work. I gave him the version I give everyone – polished, confident, exactly the right amount of ambitious. He listened. Not the way men listen when they’re waiting for their turn – actually listened. Asked one follow-up question that told me he’d heard the specific thing I’d said rather than the general shape of it.

I adjusted my approach slightly.

He noticed.

Didn’t say anything. 

Just – a small shift at the corner of his mouth.

Like he’d seen something he recognized and filed it away for later.

I realized I was being researched back.

That was new information.

Someone who is paying attention when they think nobody is watching.

I picked up my wine glass so I’d have somewhere to look.

Then, toward the end of the second hour, he said something I wasn’t prepared for.

We’d been talking about cities – places we’d been, places that stuck – and I’d mentioned something about growing up, just briefly, just a fragment. The hand-me-down version. Not the full story – never the full story – just enough to explain a preference I’d mentioned.

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he said: “You worked very hard to get here.”

Not a question.

Not a compliment exactly.

Just – an observation. The kind that lands differently than a compliment because it isn’t trying to get anything.

I didn’t have a prepared response for that either.

I used the genuine one again.

I’m still annoyed about it.

The car came at ten thirty.

Richard walked me out. Didn’t suggest extending the evening. Didn’t perform reluctance at the ending. Just walked me to the car like a man who was comfortable with things concluding correctly.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Same time next week?” he asked.

I smiled.

Got in the car.

The plan was working.

That wasn’t the problem.

I opened the spreadsheet.

Sat there for four full minutes without typing anything.

That was new.

Spreadsheet status:

Richard → dinner: complete. acquisition: active. problem: he said “you worked very hard to get here” and now I’m sitting in a car not updating my spreadsheet. Which is also data.

Noah → pending.

D → [row does not exist]

The dress worked. The plan worked. I have no idea what just happened. – Mila