C. Omololu - Intuition

I blink as the memory fades, the image making me giddy and uncomfortable at the same time. I carefully drop my own clothes to the ground and pull the stiff new dress over my head, reaching around to pull the zipper up as far as I can. I sit on the bed and slip my feet into the shoes, much higher than I’m used to, but when I stand up and look into Drew’s full-length mirror, it’s like there’s someone else looking back at me. Someone older and more sophisticated. I take a few tentative steps in the heels before pulling the door open and walking carefully down the hall. “What do you think?” I ask, striking a pose in the doorway.

“Amazing,” Drew whispers. “Beautiful.”

I turn sideways. “Can you help me get this zipper up all the way?”

“Of course,” he says, his fingers tracing my spine as he fastens the dress. I turn, and he runs one finger down the chain to the ankh that’s hanging just above the neckline. “Just a second,” he says, walking toward his bedroom and returning a moment later with a familiar black velvet box.

I lift the ruby earrings out of the box and slip them into my ears. “I never did say thank you,” I say, tilting my head toward him. “How do they look?”

“Beautiful,” he says again. Drew seems lost, and I wonder if he’s remembering as well. Looking into my eyes, he runs a finger over one of the earrings, then pulls my hair away from my face. “Have you ever thought about wearing your hair in a braid? It’s so long and thick . . . it would be gorgeous.”

I pull back and shake my hair out. “No,” I say, suddenly uncomfortable. “I like it down now.”

“Right,” Drew says, forcing a smile. He kisses me on the neck. “You’re gorgeous no matter what you do. Now that you look so good, I’m going to jump in the shower and get ready. Where should we go? Coi? Or that new seafood place on Polk?”

“Whatever you want,” I say as he disappears into the bedroom. I run my fingers down the smooth skirt, knowing that it’s more expensive than anything I’ve ever worn. A feeling of exhaustion settles in, leaving a heavy weight on my chest. I can’t blame that on the dress or the earrings, so I just figure it’s because of all that’s been going on with Rayne and Veronique’s death.

Drew’s tablet is sitting on the table, so I sit down on the couch and pull it into my lap. I wait until I hear water running from behind the partially open bedroom door before I bring up the search box and type in Griffon’s name. It only takes a second to find the lecture Janine was talking about—it’s on a site I’ve heard about that puts up important talks from famous people. My finger hovers over the link, and I can’t decide whether I want to click it or not. Eventually, I do. I was always going to.

The title above the square screen reads “Griffon Hall: Smart Energy to Save the Planet.” There’s a blurb about him over to the right—how the wunderkind physicist is out to save us from ourselves with an invention that will change the world. Once the little loading circle disappears, there’s Griffon standing on a brightly lit stage in front of hundreds of people. He’s wearing a dark purple button-down shirt, and as he moves I can see the smallest flash of the black cord that hangs around his neck. My heart skips a beat as he begins speaking, walking casually up and down the stage as if he were in his living room, gesturing and smiling, his dimples flashing as he makes a point and the audience laughs. I’m so busy watching this confident, almost adult version of Griffon speak that I have no idea what he’s saying. Before it’s over, I click on the red X in the corner and the screen shrinks down to nothing. A completely perfect metaphor for our relationship.

I’m still staring at the blank screen when Drew pokes his head into the living room. He’s holding up two shirts. One is the same deep purple color that Griffon was wearing. “Which is better?” he asks.

“The green one,” I answer without hesitation.

As we’re waiting for the elevator, I catch a glimpse of us in the hall mirror, and I have to admit that we look good together. The green shirt sets off the blue in Drew’s eyes, and the dress and heels make me look less awkwardly young beside him. Almost like we really do belong together.

“So, where are we going?” I ask, as we wait for the car to be brought around to the front of the building.

“Coi, I think,” Drew says. He slips the valet a folded bill as he opens the door to the Bugatti for me. I watch him as he walks around to the driver’s side, saying something that makes the valet laugh. He’s always so in control of every situation. “I have a quick stop to make first,” he says, easing into the seat next to me. “Is that okay?”

I settle into the soft, buttery leather. “Fine by me.” I’m determined to enjoy this night. No worrying about Veronique or the stolen formula. No thinking about Griffon. Or Giselle. Just me and Drew in his fancy sports car, cruising through San Francisco.

The sun is making long shadows as Drew pulls out onto the Embarcadero, still crowded with joggers and tourists even though it’s almost dinner time. “Have you been to the Ferry Building lately?” Drew asks. “There are some great restaurants in there now.”

“No,” I say, looking out the window as we pass it. I realize with a jolt that this is where we landed in my past lifetime, the dock where the ferry unloaded all of our belongings, including my broken cello. “Not this time.”

Drew glances at me, but doesn’t say anything. We drive in silence, and I watch the people on the sidewalk as we pass. I realize we’re headed toward the Marina. “Where are we going?”

“There’s something I might want to buy,” he says cryptically, one hand on the shift knob. “But I want your opinion first.”

I can’t imagine what he would need my opinion about. “Why?”

“Because it might involve you someday.” He smiles at me quickly. “You’ll see.”

I don’t have long to wonder as we pull into an empty parking space down by the Marina Green. Drew opens the door and helps me out, something I actually appreciate in this dress and these heels. I look around at the boats and the water. “Here?”

“Here,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me along the sidewalk past a small stone building. We cross a narrow white bridge onto a dock that bobs the slightest bit with the current and see a man in a suit waving in front of the biggest boat in the marina. “There he is.”

Drew walks up to the man and pats him on the back. “Sandoval, this is Cole, the one I was telling you about.”

Sandoval gives a little bow in my direction. “Nice to finally meet you.” He winks at Drew. “I see what you mean.”

I look at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Drew says with a smile. He gestures toward the boat. “So . . . what do you think?”

“I . . . think you want to go for a boat ride?” I answer, a little confused.

Sandoval laughs so hard I can see the fillings in his back teeth. “A boat ride. She’s hilarious.” He makes a sweeping gesture. “This is no ordinary boat. It’s a superyacht. Five cabins, three salons, and a Jacuzzi tub on the upper deck.”

“Okay.” I turn to Drew. “What’s going on?”

“I was thinking about buying it,” he says, practically bouncing with excitement. “But only if you like it.”

I crane my neck to see the top of the boat, where a little room is all lit up and I can see the top of a metal steering wheel. “This thing’s huge.”

“Not so big,” Sandoval says. “Only thirty meters. But big enough to take you anywhere you want to go. Shall we take a look?”

“Do you mind if we go alone this time?” Drew asks.

Sandoval shrugs, but looks a little disappointed all the same. “Absolutely. You know where everything is. I’ll be here if you have any questions.”