“Dangerous,” she says simply. “You’re dangerous.”
“I’m a teddy bear,” I tell her.
“You’re real,” she counters. “You’re real, down to earth, and there isn’t a pretentious bone in your body. That makes you dangerous.”
I shake my head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Casey smiles at me almost piteously, and I’m surprised she doesn’t give me a condescending pat on my head. “I know on the face it looks like I just seek out rich men, and maybe you think that’s so because I like to live a glamorous life and I like pretty things. But the truth is… I seek out men that are vain, narcissistic, or self-absorbed. It just so happens that many of those types of men are that way because of what money has done to them. It makes them entitled and it corrupts. It controls their lives and makes them feel more important that what they really are. It gives them the power to hurt people… to destroy. It takes away their capacity to truly care.”
“And these are the men you seek out?” I ask dumbly.
“Yes,” is all she says, and she waits to see if I get it. When I don’t, she continues on, “It’s self-preservation at its simplest form.”
And then I get it.
I nod, my eyes wide with understanding. “It’s easier to keep yourself closed off from those types of people. You aren’t in any danger of getting hurt, because you know exactly what you’re dealing with. And because these men really aren’t of any true interest to you… at least no more than a nice diversion… you aren’t ever in any danger of breaking your own boundaries. You’re not in danger of falling for them.”
Casey grins and stabs her index finger in the air at me. “Bingo. You got it.”
Shaking my head, I pick up my coffee cup. Just before taking a sip, I mutter, “You are one complex woman, Goldie.”
Casey’s voice is whisper soft, full of emotion. “And you are dangerous, Tenn Jennings, because you are exactly the type of man that could crumble all of those boundaries.”
The honesty of her words and the fact they are said with such resignation about slays me.
My hand drops to my stomach and I rub it gingerly, because those words and the sad quality of her voice just rendered a deep punch to my gut. I want to slide from the booth, pull her out of her seat, and wrap her in my arms. I want to kiss her and tell her she’s far more worthy than she gives herself credit for, but I can’t do any of those things.
Those are exactly the types of things that would send Casey scurrying away from me. Those are the types of things that make me dangerous in her mind.
So instead, I ask, “What do your friends all think of this philosophy you have? Why you only seek out those types of men?”
Casey scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Tenn… what I just told you? My reasons for doing what I do? They don’t know any of that. They just think Casey wants to drink champagne and the only way to do it on her Coca Cola budget is to target the hotties with the money. I mean… look at me. I don’t mean that in any vain sense, but seriously… I can get anyone I want. At least… any man who is so self-absorbed and narcissistic, they don’t give a rat’s ass that I set boundaries with them. That’s all my friends really know… all they need to know. The only reason I told you is because you’re fleeting. Just here for a visit.”
While I’m not about to disabuse her of the notion that I’m just visiting—since I’m thinking of relocating—I am floored that she’s shared something with me that even her closest friends don’t know. Which really pisses me off because whatever it is that drives Casey to do the things she does, it comes at the sacrifice of her insulating her friends from whatever pain she’s suffered. She doesn’t share with them not because she doesn’t trust them. She doesn’t share with them because she doesn’t want them to hurt for her.
Leaning further over the table, I reach out and take one of Casey’s hands in my own. I rub my thumb over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. “You know what your problem is, Goldie?”
She shakes her head, her eyes seeking almost desperately for some truth that she hasn’t figured out on her own.
“The men you’ve been with? They merely stir you and you don’t need to be gently stirred,” I tell her simply.
One eyebrow drops while the other one rises in skepticism. “I don’t need stirred?”
“It’s like this. You’re not a woman that needs to be treated with kid gloves. You don’t need to be coddled or unnecessarily flattered. You’re too sharp and savvy for that. In fact, you’re almost too sharp and savvy for that. It’s made you wary and shielded, which has in turn made you stagnant. You’re stuck in a rut of your own making… maybe for self-preservation, maybe not… but your boundaries have stunted the woman you’re meant to be. It’s like the cocktails you make when you bartend. You need to be shaken, not stirred.”
Casey just stares at me as understanding of what I just said starts to take root. Her eyes flare round and her mouth parts slightly. Just as I think she’s getting ready to tell me that I am the wisest of all creatures she’s ever encountered, she leans over to the side and slaps her free hand on the tabletop while she lets out a bark of a laugh. She peals out uncontrollable chuckles and then wheezes. When she finally sucks in a deep breath of air, she wipes her eyes and says, “That is the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard in my life, Tenn.”