The Gentleman Mentor

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoBrielle

“You’ll call me the second you’re done, right?” my best friend, Julie, pleads through the phone.

“I’ll call you,” I promise for the seventeenth time. “Unless I end up chopped up into little bits and tossed into a garbage can. In that case, you’ll hear about it on the eleven o’clock news.”

“I thought you were meeting in a public place?” she asks, her tone worried.

“Yes, we are. He said to meet him at a place called the Dakota. But a girl can never be too careful.”

“The jazz club downtown?”

“That’s the one.” I’d never heard of it, so I researched it online. “I’m pulling in now. I’ve gotta go.”

“Call. Me. Immediately. After,” she orders.

Rolling my eyes at her overzealous tone, I promise her again. “The minute I’m done.”

I pull into a parking spot near the entrance and cut the engine on my practical sedan. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, I meet my own eyes and giggle.

Julie’s excitement is totally warranted. Normally we are both so calm and levelheaded, this is by far the craziest thing either of us has ever done. I’m glad she’s sharing in my excitement over this plan. Then again, I’m just happy to have my buddy system in place—someone ready to dial the authorities if I turn up missing. It’s not a comforting thought, and my belly tenses.

Without the radio or Julie’s voice in my ear, the interior of my car is silent, all except for my pounding heart. God, this is truly crazy, isn’t it?

I flip down my visor to check my hair and makeup in the mirror. I took extra time and care this morning getting ready, straightening my hair until the glossy brown tresses fell in a long, straight line down my back, choosing my black sweater dress and knee-high boots with tights, wearing all black just like he instructed, and applying light makeup.

But now, it’s almost eight o’clock, and after shuffling around the snowy Chicago streets and showing apartments and homes to eager couples all day, I look every bit as tired as I feel. I dab a bit of powder under my eyes, hoping to brighten my complexion, and reapply soft pink lipstick.

Once done, I smile at my reflection. I look marginally better.

I can’t believe how fast the week went by, that it’s somehow Thursday already. I had no further communication with the Gentleman Mentor all week, other than an e-mail he sent last night when he confirmed our appointment and the location.

Seeing that I only have five minutes until our meeting, I grab my purse and exit the car. I want to be inside and seated at the bar as he instructed before he arrives. Striding across the parking lot, I notice the sky is painted in pink and orange hues at that point just before the sun sets.

It’s pretty and romantic, I think, then correct myself with a shake of my head.

This isn’t romance. It’s business. I have to keep my head clear.