Originally published in Front Porch Review, Volume 20, January 2018
Benjamin called the night Kat arrived from New York and proposed drinks at the Blackstone, Tuesday evening at 7:00. To celebrate your return. Monday, with her last paycheck from Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey, Kat bought a sleeveless black dress, dark hose, 3-inch heels, and a red lace bra and panty set. To accent her modest breasts, she wore the colored stone necklace he bought her in Amsterdam. She painted her nails scarlet, to distract him from her calloused hands and muscular arms.
Katherine “Kat” Kling glanced at her phone. It was 7:43. She looked at her empty pint glass. If he didn’t appear in five minutes, she would pay her tab and go home. Benjamin had disappointed her again.
“Would you care to join me for dinner?”
Kat swiveled to face the tall slender man. He was mid-to-late-forties, about her father’s age. “I beg your pardon?”
The man smiled. “I’m being presumptuous– I know you’re meeting someone–”
“How would you know that?” Kat put a brittle edge on her voice. She’d had enough of men telling her what she was thinking.
“In the last ten minutes, three men have approached you. You’ve turned each away, even the last gentleman who was….” He crunched up his face theatrically as if struggling to find the word.
“Buff?” Kat suggested. She repressed a smile. The stranger was amusing.
“More like….”
“Hot?” she offered.
“You’d have to be the judge of that….” He furrowed his brows.
“Dangerous?” she suggested.
“Exactly.” He paused for effect. “You like danger.”
Kat’s face flushed. When Ben first approached her, she was a senior in high school. He was her boyfriend’s father. The risk of discovery, the secret meetings, the fear of exposure, intensified everything, especially the sex.
She took another look at the athletic looking stranger. The cut, fit, and fabric of his suit suggested it was custom made. His hair and beard were impeccably trimmed, his nails perfectly groomed. There was no wedding ring, but that didn’t mean much.
“By joining me,” he explained, “you’d be spared further annoyances.”
“Maybe I find you annoying,” Kat suggested.
“Really?” He feigned surprise. “I’ve respected your personal space. I didn’t rest my hand on your thigh like the last male; didn’t try to stroke your shoulder patronizingly like the first….” He stepped back and opened his stance, arms extended, empty palms out. “I’ve nothing to hide.”
Kat grinned. He was amusing.
She lowered her eyes to the bar, suddenly fascinated by her empty beer glass. She picked up the orange slice hanging on the lip and squeezed it. She stopped herself, dropped it into the glass, and looked up. “What are you proposing?”
“A fine meal, good conversation, and a distraction from (rather than a substitute for) the man who isn’t here.” Kat flinched at the reference to Ben. “After dinner you can call an Uber, and I’ll walk the two blocks to my hotel where I’ll scan my notes for tomorrow’s interviews and fall asleep reading a Jo Nesbo novel.”
Tempting. Kat hadn’t had supper, and she despised eating alone. “Perhaps that’s what those men wanted, too?”
“Doubtful.” He tilted his head and grinned. “At least I wouldn’t lie about my marital status.”
“Yes. That would be a plus.” Kat slipped off her bar stool and grabbed the red leather clutch purse she’d purchased in Madrid. “Show me the way.”
He stepped aside and swept his right arm toward a table near the courtyard windows that was set for one. “Your table awaits Ms. Kling.”
Kat stopped. “How do you know my name?”
He smiled politely. “I’m Gunner Johanson, in town to interview someone who won’t want to talk to me. I’m 48. Divorced for three years. I regularly eat here at the Blackstone. I am a generous and appreciative tipper. It is not my habit to pick up women, as Carlene our server will tell you if you ask her privately.”
“But how do you know my name?”
“I read the newspaper. There was an article on you in this morning’s online edition.” He walked to his table. Kat, now even more curious, followed.
He eased out her chair and waited until she was seated before taking his seat. “Gunner?” she asked. “An unusual name.”
“My birth name was George Jasper Johanson. Early in my career at John Reid and Associates, I earned the nickname Gunner because of my ability to elicit confessions. Eventually I set up my own investigative consulting firm. Gunner Johanson, CFE, sounded more marketable than George Jasper.”
“CFE?”
“I’m a Certified Fraud Examiner, a specialist in Interview and Interrogation.”
“I’m Kat Kling,” she said, extending her right hand to shake his. “But then, you know that.” Her grip was firm. “I’m an Aerialist.”
“Obviously.”
The server was a woman in her thirties with dark brown hair pulled back and held in place by ebony lacquered chopsticks. She wore a black skirt hemmed above her knees, a starched white blouse, black bowtie, and a cotton apron that extended from her waist to her hemline. She put another place setting on the table, a water glass, and a tulip shaped beer glass. She lifted the 26-ounce bottle from the ice bucket and asked Kat, “May I?”
“Please.” Carlene filled her beer glass with the golden liquid. A creamy white head appeared. Kat noticed the high carbonation of the cloudy beer.
“And when you have a moment, another bottle, please. Then cut us off. My companion needs her wits about her, and I’m working in the morning.”
After the server left, Gunner raised his glass and lifted his eyebrows urging Kat to do the same. She shook her head. “I am not going to drink anything until you explain.”
“Fair enough.” Gunner set his glass down. “In my line of work, I make conversation. I don’t do it out of social need. I’m an introvert. I make conversation to establish a baseline of nonverbal behaviors for the people I’m interviewing. They, of course, don’t know that’s what I’m doing.” Kat grew alert, following his explanation with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
“I read local newspapers on-line. That’s where I found a feature on a young woman, a former State Champion gymnastic, juggler and aerialist, graduate of a famous circus school in France, laid off when Ringling Brothers closed. While in town visiting her parents, she entertained patients at the Children’s Hospital. Her name, Kat Kling, was easy to remember.”
“I see.”
“I watched your Copenhagen performance on YouTube—beautiful aerial work.”
The tension in her neck and shoulders relaxed. Kat raised her glass, took in the aroma of the beer: fruity, lightly yeasty with spices she couldn’t identify. “This is lovely. More subtle then Blue Moon.” She sipped delicately. “Thank you, Mr. Johanson.”
“Gunner.”
“Yes. Gunner.” She took another drink and rolled the beer in her mouth before swallowing. The apple flavors persisted, followed by a hint of bitterness from the malts. After a third sip the slight sweetness pushed through and lingered. She lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and noted the pink elephant on the label. “Delirium Tremens?”
“Life is too short to drink bad beer.”
“Of course, though honestly, I’m not much of a drinker.”
“The men hitting on you were counting on that.”
“I suspected as much.”
Their server returned and set a second bottle in the ice bucket. “Are you ready to order?”
“I’ll have the pulled pork ravioli,” Gunner said.
Kat asked Carlene. “What’s that like?”
“It’s our house specialty: smoked pulled pork with spinach, bacon, and onion, topped with a BBQ demi-glaze and aged white cheddar.”
“That’s a little heavy for me. Is there something you’d recommend?”
Carlene pretended to ponder the question. “The trout with the roasted corn relish is lighter and showcases our chef’s talents with a hickory smoker.”
“Delightful. I’ll have the trout.” Carlene left with their orders.
“What that was all about?” Gunner asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You examined the menu at the bar. You closed it when you decided. I’m curious why you asked for suggestions?”
“Maybe I wanted to establish Carlene’s baseline behavior.” She smirked. “I suspect she has more than a professional interest in you.”
Gunner raised his glass. “Well played.”
“Does that mean that the novel back at the hotel is only a placeholder until Carlene gets off work?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“She’s not why you’re here?”
“The Blackstone is two blocks from my hotel. The food is excellent.” He set down his glass. “Ms. Kling, I’m curious. You’re dressed and accessorized to signal your–how should I put this delicately–availability.”
Kat’s anger flared. “I am not available!”
“You’ve fielded three offers….”
“Four, if you count yourself,” she sneered.
“Fair enough.” Gunner said. “But I have shifted my theory about whom you were meeting.”
“Your theory?”
“I assumed you were meeting a young man, a peer, someone from high school, someone with unresolved issues. Perhaps your decision to attend circus school in France sidetracked a relationship on the verge of fruition.”
Kat blinked. Gunner, she realized, was good. “But you don’t think that anymore?”
“Oh, I know I’m right about the unresolved issues. But the simple black dress is designed to attract an older man. It isn’t a millennial mating dress. When your date failed to show, you settled for me because I came closest to being him.”
“An interesting theory,” she said flatly.
“Ah, so I’m right.” Kat folded her arms protectively. “The giveaway is the lack of a denial. If I was wrong, you would have told me.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Too late.” Gunner leaned toward her and tilted his head slightly. “So this man is your father’s business partner….”
“My father is a Lutheran minister….” Kat caught herself. She’d corrected him immediately when he was wrong, as he’d predicted.
“Let’s explore the clichés, shall we? You’re meeting the man next door, the father of one of your girlfriends…?” Gunner saw the slightest physical reaction to his suggestion. “The father of a former boyfriend?” She nodded. “I had everything reversed. You didn’t risk the relationship by going to circus school; you went to France to end it.”
Mercifully the meals arrived before he could ask her any more questions. Carlene refilled their glasses in silence as Kat stared at her plate. The server raised her eyebrows, but Gunner waved her off.
“So, tell me about this circus school in Paris….”
As they ate the conversation became animated. Kat asked him about the criminals he’d caught. He deflected questions about his personal life, though he admitted he was the father of two college students.
“Nine months ago, Benjamin, the man I was to meet, traveled to Italy for business,” she finally admitted. “He arranged to see me perform in Milan. After the show he took me to at a local bistro, then back to his hotel. Suddenly it was like I’d never left him.” Kat daubed her mouth with her napkin, then folded it and set it on the table. “Do you want to know the irony? When I was his teenaged lover, I felt very adult. When we met in Italy, a lifetime and several relationships later, I felt like a child again.”
“Perhaps that’s what he wanted. The girl he’d seduced, not the woman she’d grown into.”
“It left a bad taste….”
“Still you joined Ringling Brothers to be back on this continent.”
“I knew it was a temp job. Everyone knew they were closing.” Kat picked up her beer but didn’t immediately drink. She needed a clear head tonight. “And the other irony is that I was back in the States, but he couldn’t make time to see me. It wasn’t convenient.”
“It was a power play.”
“Oh, I knew that.” She set down the glass without drinking. “I have a job offer to teach at the gymnastics studio that I once went to. My parents think I should take it, but they don’t know about Ben.”
“Want to see a dessert menu, Gunner?” Carlene asked as she cleared away their plates.
“Two orders of your rum raisin bread pudding and two snifters of 25-year-old Ron Zacapa XO. No ice cream tonight. Kat and I are watching our waistlines.”
“I can order for myself,” Kat snapped as Carlene walked away.
“Of course, you can. I was out of line. I’ll call Carlene back. You can pick our desserts.”
Kat waved him off. “No, that’s all right. It’s fine.” The rum raisin bread pudding was the house specialty. A snifter of 25-year-old rum would finish the meal nicely.
“After dessert I’ll call an Uber.”
“What if I’d prefer to join you at your hotel?”
“This evening was never about seduction,” Gunner said, gesturing to the bistro, the table, and the two of them. “You selected your outfit to feed your date’s desire, but you had no intention of satisfying it.” He finished his beer. “But thank you for the offer.”
Kat’s pushed her pint aside. “Why would a man your age–married, single, or divorced–turn down a proposition like mine?”
“My age? You say that as if I were elderly.”
“Close enough.”
Gunner seemed amused. “Short answer? A man my age wouldn’t…. You’re gorgeous.” His answer momentarily satisfied her. “But inevitably conversations with someone your age, turn to college sororities, mind-numbing entry level jobs, bands I’ve never heard of, or their last bachelorette party.” She started to interrupt him, but he waved her off. “Frankly, young women are not very interesting. After sex, then what?”
Kat wasn’t amused. “I’m twenty-five. After high school I went to circus school in Paris. I’m an aerialist who works without a net. I’ve performed in ten countries on three continents. Since I parted with Benjamin, I’ve had a series of lovers who have nothing but praise for my acrobatic skills.”
“Someone my age,” Gunner interjected, “might convince himself that a relationship with you would be different. As a bonus he could prove his virility and be the envy of his peers.”
“However–?” Kat was confused. This wasn’t the way the conversation was supposed to go.
“You could never satisfy him.”
Carlene appeared with their desserts. “Apparently I’ve arrived just in time,” she teased. “Judging from your expressions, the conversation has taken an ugly turn.” She placed snifters of rum and the bread puddings in front of them, then backed away.
Kat refused to break eye contact. “So why does Ben persist?”
“He relishes his ability to control you. Your youth is an inconvenience. Great sex is a bonus.”
“He doesn’t control me,” she hissed.
“And yet you are here tonight, dressed to please him, faithful to your infidelity with him.”
“And what about the other men tonight?”
“You appeared young, vulnerable, and available. They had nothing to lose by asking.”
“No one in this place was looking for a relationship?”
“Hell no. That’s what girlfriends, wives, and co-workers are for. Who needs another relationship to complicate their lives? But anonymous sex? Men can’t get enough of it.” Gunner raised the snifter, rolled the rum gently, inhaled the aroma and drank. “What about your side of the equation. What’s in it for you?”
“Benjamin is charming. Handsome. Bright. Successful. Confident. And well-adjusted.”
“No, he isn’t.” Gunner set his snifter down. “He seduced his son’s girlfriend. A man who is all those things wouldn’t have.”
Kat held her snifter near her lips and inhaled the aroma. She drank. “Oh my– This is rum? It’s like cognac. I never knew….” She set the glass down. “What else don’t I know?”
“He’s had other affairs. When these became routine, he met you, his son’s lover, the pastor’s daughter, an aerialist, a forbidden underage nymph….”
“That’s so cynical,” she said, trying to dismiss what he was suggesting.
Carlene reappeared. “How is the bread pudding?”
“Honestly,” Kat said, “we haven’t tasted it.” She noted the shift in Gunner’s posture and turned to Carlene. “It’s none of my business, but is there something between you two?”
“I was once married to a very violent man,” Carlene acknowledged. “Mr. Johanson rescued me and put him away for thirty years. When I moved here, Gunner arranged for this job and found a walk-up apartment that my son and I could afford. He eats here when he’s in town and tips me an obscene amount.”
“Confidentially,” Kat lowered her voice, “do you think he’s trying to seduce me?”
“Only in your dreams, Sweet Pea.” Carlene looked over to Gunner who smiled. “Gunner prefers more complicated women.” She picked up the two untouched dishes of bread pudding. “Let me warm these for you. You’ve obviously got things to work out. I’ll comp a couple scoops of ice cream to sweeten the conversation.”
Kat considered her options. Two of the three men who’s hit on her were gone. The third was chatting up a bored brunette. She sipped her rum.
“Why do you think Benjamin wants to see me?”
“He wasn’t finished with you. He liked being in control. He wanted that feeling back.”
She took a deep breath and sighed. Kat had suspected as much.
Carlene arrived with the steaming desserts, each with a rapidly melting scoop of hand-churned vanilla bean ice cream. They focused on eating until, finally, Kat pushed the plate away. “I don’t know what I would have done if he showed up.”
“You should give it some thought.” Kat turned in the direction Gunner was staring. Standing in the doorway was a middle-aged man in a tailored gray suit. Their eyes met.
Much to Kat’s surprise, Benjamin walked over to her dinner companion and greeted him in a booming voice, “Gunner Johanson, what a surprise! Now I won’t have to drink alone.” The man turned to Kat. “And who’s your lovely young companion?”
“Oh, Bennie,” Gunner said, “you are a terrible liar. Why do you even try?” He laughed. “Pull up a chair and join us. Kat and I drinking well-aged rum, but I believe you’re a martini man. I’ll wager Carlene brings one before you can even ask.”
Kat looked to Gunner and then back to Benjamin. “You know each other?”
“I do consulting work for his boss,” Gunner explained.
Benjamin appeared uncomfortable. “Carl didn’t tell me you were in town.”
“Must have slipped his mind.” Gunner looked from the young woman to Benjamin. “I understand Kat used to date your son?”
“I don’t know what she’s told you….”
“Go home, Ben,” Kat said. “Staying will be awkward.”
“But Kat…,” he sputtered. He looked at the grinning fraud examiner and then back to the young aerialist. “You and Gunner…?”
“What can I say? I have a weakness for older men.”
Gunner laughed. “Oh, Bennie, she’s a much better liar than you’ll ever be.”
Carlene arrived with Benjamin’s martini.
“I think,” Gunner told her, “I’m ready for the check. And put Bennie’s drink on my tab.” He turned to the businessman. “I didn’t expect to see you here. If I had, I would have dined elsewhere.” He motioned to Kat. “And when I struck up a conversation with this young woman, I failed make the connection, until it was too late. She’s right. If you stay, it will get awkward.”
“I’m going back to Paris,” Kat told Ben. “I’ve been offered a contract with Cirque d’Hiver.”
“I see.” Benjamin hesitated. “And what about the job at the gymnastics studio?”
“Too risky.”
His face flushed. He picked up the martini and downed it. His iPhone started buzzing. “That’s probably my wife, wondering where I am,” he said. “Will I see you in the morning, Gunner.” Gunner nodded.
Benjamin turned to Kat. “Nice seeing you again, Ms. Kling. I’ll give your regards to my son.”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “I told him about us.”
The businessman withered at the suggestion. “You look lovely tonight, Kat.”
“I had a date, but he stood me up.”
After Benjamin left, Carlene appeared with the bill. “You’re my last table. I’m checking out after you settle up. I can drop you off at your hotel, Gunner, before giving the young lady a ride home.”
“Don’t you two have plans?” Kat asked. She was confused.
“We’re meeting in the morning for breakfast. Tonight he has to put his notes together for tomorrow’s interview.”
“Exactly so.”
“Plus, the ride to your parents’ home will give us a chance to get to get acquainted. It seems that we both have a thing for older men, fatherly types….”
“Tired old farts,” Kat added.
“Exactly.” Carlene picked up Gunner’s bill and his American Express card. “Be back in a sec.”
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