Hide-and-Peek

I was sitting downstairs in the cafe, eating a late dinner and communicating with New York, where it was still the business day.

And my landlord walked in with a male friend.

I quickly stared at my computer. Maybe he wouldn't see me. He walked by--he hadn't noticed. Or else he was doing the same thing, pretending, not sure what to say now that the hot water heater worked and we'd given up on installing ADSL.

He's about my age, has the air of a smooth player, and is apparently single. His hair is shaved close on the sides with more hair on top. Not long like a mullet, but nevertheless I dislike these haircuts. But he told me he disliked my sofa, when he saw it in a photo of my old apartment, so we're even.

And it occurred to me.

My rich Egyptian landlord is totally hot.

And then I was suddenly staring VERY intently at my laptop, and my face was probably a little bit red. And because I was acting like such an idiot, I started laughing out loud at myself. I put a stop to that quickly--one way to make your landlord think you're nuts is to turn red and laugh out loud at yourself when you're sitting all alone eating your dinner.

I chewed deliberately, slowly. I didn't want to end up with mustard on my face. Not now.

He sat in the corner, the only place in the restaurant where I couldn't see him, though I could see his arm, watch, and hand. An expensive watch. A late thirties-fortyish hand. Maybe he didn't want to talk to me? I kept an eye on the two men, and when I saw the hand and watch move, I casually turned my head to look, at exactly the moment that my landlord leaned forward and peeked around the corner, looking straight at me.

We both did goofy little waves. Too cool for anything else.

Busted.