Calvin stared off into the distance. Who was that girl? Why did she run off so fast with tears running down her face?

     He was tempted to run to her, to take a knee besides her on the grass and offer his help.

     He took a small step forward when his eyes were covered by a gentle hand. His vision faded to black.

     A breeze blew in his direction, sending that familiar cherry-pie-and-lemon-curd scent to his nose.

     "Where's my valentine?" said Genevieve.

     Calvin wasn't sure if she was asking for a gift or using a term of endearment.

     He tried to put a little distance between them all week, making an effort to get back to Marlo's promise.

     She dropped her hand and laughed. "I'm just putting you on, but I've been meaning to ask you something."

     Whatever was happening to the girl in the yard or whatever promise he made to his brother was forgotten. "What is it?"

     She opened her mouth when Roger arrived and stood besides them. "Hey, you two."

     Calvin stood up straighter.

     He knew Roger was still upset that he chose to have his first drinks with Genevieve instead of him. The guilt consumed Calvin since.

     "Let's go," said Roger "I've got to get ready."

     "Big plans tonight?" said Genevieve.

     Roger nodded as they walked to the parking lot. "I made dinner reservations for Cookie and me at this Italian place downtown."

     Calvin's heartbeat sped up to accommodate his Marlo-sensitive nerves. He looked around for him, as if he'd jump out of the bushes at any time.

     "And what are you doing tonight?" she asked Calvin.

     "I'm staying in," he said, a little too quickly. "Staying out of trouble. Keeping a low profile."

     Genevieve looked confused, as did Roger.

     He was trying to send Roger a message. I know I was a hypocrite. I'm trying to make up for that. I'm getting back on track.

     Genevieve kept her eyes on Calvin, waiting for him to continue.

     Calvin knew she wanted him to ask her about her Valentine's plans, but not only did he want to cut the conversation short, he wasn't sure how he'd handle Genevieve telling him she had plans with someone else. "We better get going," he told Roger "Wouldn't want to make you late for your date."

     He practically pushed Roger towards the car. "Have a good weekend, Genevieve."

     "I'll be home. Call me if you get bored. I really did have something to ask you."

     Calvin was relieved, but confused. Why did her confirming that she didn't have plans make him feel good?

     The trio split in two different directions. Roger and Calvin to the Mustang. Genevieve to her Mercury Cougar.

     The men walked to the car in an uncomfortable silence. Roger looked conflicted.

     "I'll drive," said Calvin.

     Anything to get on your good side again.

     Roger opened the passenger side door, but stood outside. He made a noise between a sigh and a groan. "Go ahead, Cal."

     "I will. Give me the car keys."

     "No, I mean go ahead and ask her."

     Calvin wrinkled his forehead. "Ask who, what?"

     "You'll have the apartment to yourself tonight. As upset as I am, I don't want you spending Valentine's Night alone."

     A pang of emotion threatened Calvin's throat. He wasn't used to this kind of affection.

     "Invite Vivi over," said Roger "Cookie and I will be home late."

     All Calvin did was stare. It was a tempting offer, one he couldn't take. "I'm going to behave. I promised Marlo."

     "You already broke the rules. Might as well go the whole nine."

     Calvin was sure it was a sexual reference, but he was too relieved to have Roger's blessing to care. This only meant Roger knew his and Genevieve friendship was strictly platonic.

     Roger motioned his head towards Genevieve's car. "Go."

     Calvin was still for a moment, then burst into a sprint towards Genevieve like he was stopping a disaster from happening.

****

     "Mayo, mustard, and relish," said Genevieve.

     Calvin took another bite of his Big Mac and nodded as he chewed. "I taste the relish, but I think it's ketchup, not mustard."

     "No, ketchup's too sweet."

     The two were alone on Calvin's living room couch. Calvin's feet rested on the ottoman, but Genevieve was wearing a skirt and kept her legs crossed.

     Genevieve arrived half an hour after Cookie and Roger left. She brought McDonald's and whatever was left of Calvin's bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

     They ate their hamburgers and spoke of nothing important. The television aired the opening credits to Get Smart, but they ignored it as they debated which ingredients comprised the Big Mac secret sauce.

     Calvin washed down the hamburger and sesame seeds with wine. "I say we ask that Kroc fella for half a million in exchange for keeping our mouths shut about the recipe."

     She observed her wine in the glass, like a child fascinated by a dancing light."Why not the whole million?"

     "Let's not push our luck."

     Genevieve wiped her lips with a paper napkin. "You don't mix luck with money?"

     "No. It's never necessary."

     She turned to him. "Funny you should say that. I've been meaning to ask you about something."

     Why was he so nervous?

     "Have you... do you... gamble?"

     He put his glass down. "What do you mean?"

     "You know, bet on anything?"

     Gambling, like drinking, was another thing Calvin avoided out of respect for his late father. "No. Do you?"

     Genevieve wiped her hands on a paper napkin and ran her fingers through her scalp, closing her eyes and letting out a sensual groan. "Oh, yes."

     Calvin knew she was relaxing. He loved scalp massages as much as she did.

     But watching her do it to herself was too intimate. It was like watching her step out of a bathtub.

     He sucked the last of the wine from his glass, as if doing so would put a curtain between them.

     Genevieve opened her eyes. She'd become a little drowsy, a little drunk. "I want to go gambling with you."

     Calvin wasn't crazy about the first five words, but he was about the last two. "When?"

     She leaned in. Her mouthwatering scent made a come-hither motion with its index finger.

     He was all hers.

     "Tonight," she said.

     Calvin adjusted himself on the couch. He must not have heard right. "Tonight?"

     Her eyes glowed with excitement, making them twenty years younger. "Let's get out of this town. Let's go to Las Vegas."

     Calvin smiled, soaking up the happiness and youth she radiated.

     She looked at the clock on the wall. "If we leave in the next fifteen minutes, we won't catch traffic. We'll arrive at The Strip before one in the morning. We'll head back Sunday night."

     His excitement stopped. "Wait, you mean it? You want to go to Las Vegas tonight?"

     "The lights, the shows, the recycled air at the casinos. What's stopping us?"

     Calvin's face turned hard. His demeanor switched from relaxed to matter-of-fact. "You told me about it thirty seconds ago without asking if I had other plans this weekend."

     She kept her eyes away. "Then don't go."

     "Huh?"

     "If you have plans this weekend, don't go. I know the way."

     Calvin ran his hand down his frustrated face. Why don't women ever just say what they mean? "No, we'll go, I promise. We get two weeks off in March—"

     "Oh, we'll go in March, but I'm still going tonight."

     "By yourself?"

     "Sure."

     "No, you won't."

     "Yes, I will."

     He was shocked by how quickly Genevieve morphed from a high school English teacher to the very definition of a temper tantrum. "You can't drive five hours across California in the middle of the night. Do you realize how ludicrous that is?"

     "Then come with me."

     Calvin reminisced on what things were like five minutes ago, when they were making light conversation like old friends.

     Genevieve put her glass down and turned her torso to face him, resting her elbow on the back of the couch and her head on her fist. Her voice was low and patient, like she knew the answer to everything. "Do you find me attractive?"

     Calvin didn't move, didn't breath. Did he even exist? He heard her loud and clear, but he needed time to think. "What?"

     "Is that why you don't want to go, because you don't want to be alone with me?"

     Calvin wanted to do anything she asked, so long as she attached the words "with me" at the end. "Uh... Um..."

     The sound of a jingling doorknob interrupted them.

     He sat up straight in a panic.

     Roger and Cookie entered the apartment, dressed in their best clothes, but with a disappointed look on their faces.

     Cookie was the first to notice Calvin and his guest. "Oh, hello."

     Roger looked at Calvin up and down. "Hello, indeed."

     "I thought you two wouldn't be back until eleven," said Calvin.

     "That was the plan," said Cookie "but the fatheads at the restaurant gave away our reservation by mistake. We just fought with them for half an hour before we got hungry and left. We tried finding another restaurant, but they were all full."

     Genevieve looked at Roger. "You've got a whole weekend to make it up to her."

     "I sure do," said Roger "Were going to order take out. You two want in?"

     "Thanks, but I was just leaving. I came by to bring Calvin dinner."

     No. Don't go.

     She looked at Calvin. "Thanks for having me over. I've gotta run home and pack."

     "Pack? For what?" said Roger.

     "Oh, just a little trip out of town."

     Cookie looked at Calvin. "And what's going on with you?"

     He looked at Genevieve.

     The thought of her getting hurt was enough to make him hurt, too. Something about her brought out his protective instincts and made him feel more of a man. "I... I think I'm going to Nevada."