The light turned green and the car pulled forward, and Aisha’s boss shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Aisha laughed. “My grandmother used to say that. I thought it sounded good. When I was in high school, I wrecked my mom’s car. She was yelling at me, and I said it is what it is. She didn’t find it funny, or profound.”
Mr. Conner laughed. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Three. Well, three half siblings. That’s typical, right? My mom had me first and then two with her second husband. The third is only six, and she doesn’t know who the dad is exactly. She had just gotten divorced again.”
“What do you mean that’s typical?” Mr. Connor asked as they pulled into a small parking lot next to an expensive Italian restaurant.
“Black girl with a bunch of half siblings,” Aisha said, wondering if Mr. Conner really was that sheltered or just trying to spare her feelings. She wasn’t ashamed of where she came from, but she was proud of herself from getting away from that sort of life.
Anthony parked and looked at his assistant. “Who cares about that shit, right?”
Aisha smiled and nodded, and her boss reached over and put his hand on her leg. It seemed friendly, just a little touch between a man and a woman, him trying to make sure she knew he didn’t care about things like that. But his hand wasn’t on her knee. It was closer to her thigh, his pinkie finger touching the hem of her short skirt. The touch was like electricity, sending a shock of pleasure through Aisha’s body. His hand was strong and warm, and she found herself wishing the older man would slide it under her skirt.
But then he took his hand away and opened his door, and it was time for lunch.
2
Inside there was a small line of well-dressed businessmen and a few women waiting for a table, but Mr. Conner didn’t have to wait at all. He led her past the line, right to a smartly dressed ma?tre d’ who stood next to an oak podium. He was a tall man, older than Aisha but younger than her boss. He had slicked back hair and a thin mustache.
“Mr. Conner,” he said with a smile as he motioned them both back toward the dining room with his hands. “Glad to see you.”
“Thanks, Tom,” Mr. Conner said. He pulled a crisp bill from his pocket and palmed it, so after they were shown to their table, Tom could shake his hand and discreetly take the tip. It was hard to be sure, but it looked to Aisha like her boss had handed the man a hundred-dollar bill.
The restaurant was small and dimly lit, with the tables and chairs and other furnishings looking more expensive than anything the young black girl owned. She had worked hard to get where she was, but there, at the table with her boss, she felt out of place. She shoved the thought from her mind, though, and smiled across the table at her boss.
“I’ve never been here before,” she said. “What’s good?”
“The wine,” Mr. Conner said, and they both laughed. “Really, though, you can’t go wrong with anything. Do you like seafood? They have a great pasta with shellfish. I always add an order of crab cakes as well.”
Aisha nodded. “I’ll have whatever you recommend,” she said, and her boss nodded and ended up ordering for both of them. Each dish had a complicated Italian name, and Aisha found herself wondering if her boss was saving her a bit of embarrassment. Soon after ordering, their waitress, who was a thin white blond girl with a massive chest and an even bigger butt, brought a bottle of wine, which Aisha was pretty sure cost more than she made in a month.
“Bring another, will you?” Mr. Connor said with a smile, and the waitress nodded.
“That woman must be a hell of a client,” Aisha said wryly.
“She’s a hell of a pain in the ass; I’ll tell you that much,” he said as he poured two glasses of wine.
Lunch wore on for an hour, and then another, and Aisha and her boss slowly got drunk. When they left the restaurant, there was a cab waiting for them. Mr. Conner had called and asked for one twenty minutes before they had left.
“I’ll come back after work for my car. Hopefully I’ll be sober by then.”
Aisha was drunk as well, and she felt lightheaded. She stumbled a bit as she made her way to the cab, but her boss caught her and steadied her.
“I didn’t think you could get drunk at work,” she said after they were both in the backseat.
“Hey, we aren’t at work,” Mr. Conner said, which made Aisha giggle. “And I’m the boss, so what I say goes.”
The cab driver pulled into the busy traffic, and Aisha closed her eyes for a moment, fighting to sober up before they got back to work. When she opened her soft brown eyes, she was surprised to see her boss looking at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You have beautiful eyes,” he said, and Aisha felt warmth flood her cheeks.