“In what?”

“Political Science,” Precocious smiled. “She figures the best way to save the world is to understand when it all went horribly wrong.” She sat down at the table again. “She understands that sometimes you need classroom learning to back up what you already know, and that sometimes you just need to go out and see if you can swim.”

“And you jumped in.”

“More or less.”

Tyler took a sip of his coffee and considered getting the conversation back onto a professional track. The files looked wholly uninviting when compared to actual conversation. “What’d you do before you worked for Zachary?”

“I was a temp, mostly. I worked some pointless jobs in between, but mostly I just did office work.” Precocious closed the last file that they had been looking at and put it on top of the stack in the middle of the table. “How’d you meet Zachary?”

“It’s the classic tale of two men, one beer bong, and a stupid college frat party. We rushed the same frat. We got stumbling drunk, searched for earthworms on the front lawn, and that pretty much cemented our friendship. It’s hard to not feel a bond with a guy when you’re splitting a bottle of aspirin because of the same stupid stunt.”

”When’d you start up ‘Ransack’?”

Tyler was a little surprised that he actually had to stop and count backwards before giving an answer. He used to be able to rattle off the exact date and time without a second thought. “It was eleven years ago in March, I think.” He drummed his fingertips on the table top as he considered the timeline. “We got the idea about three years before that. We’d worked in factory settings since we’d left college, doing sales and purchasing. We knew we just had to find something that people needed.”

“How’d you end up in textiles?” Precocious looked like she couldn’t quite understand why two men with a plan for their own business had decided on a factory for textiles.

“Dumb luck. It’s what was getting big at the time. We figured we could slide in on the ground floor and work our company up to something important. We got the loan for the first building just as the place down the street went under. We managed to buy out their stock and get their customer base.”

“Lucky.”

Tyler shrugged. “We like to consider it good business intuition.” He grinned when Precocious chuckled. “Or maybe really dumb luck.”

“Yeah.”

They fell into silence, and it was comfortable for about the first minute. Tyler wondered where he could lead the conversation without sounding desperate, but before he could pick a safe, neutral topic, Precocious bowled him over. “Would you like to go to Linda’s exhibition with me next Friday?”

Tyler’s mouth had been half-open in preparation to speak. He managed to snap it shut before he ended up gaping like a dumbass. “Exhibition?”

“Yeah. She’s got a whole new set of pieces that are going up for viewing and buying. I’m not sure how your artistic tastes run, but if nothing else, you’d get to look at a lot of bright colors.”

Had it not been for the absolute faintest blush on her cheeks by her ears, Tyler would have thought that she was completely calm in her question. “Did Zachary ask you to invite me along so that I wouldn’t waste away out here all alone?” He wasn’t overly surprised at his own mildly annoyed tone. He was a little surprised at the flash of anger that lit up Percocious’s cheeks.

“No, but thanks for the compliment.” Precocious’s tone was sarcastic. “I’m not my boss’s errand girl, nor am I prone to take directions about asking his old friends to art exhibitions. His request was that I come out here and explain the numbers to you. The invitation to Linda’s exhibition is of my own free will.”

“I…uh…” ~Can you send flowers to apologize before you’ve even had a *date* with someone?~ “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Tyler held up his hands in a placating gesture and watched as Precocious seemed to deflate.

“It’s not totally your fault. I’ve got some issues involving men and their ideas about my motivations.” Precocious pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and shook her head sharply. “Anyway,” she dropped her hands and looked a little less hostile than a few moments before, “if you’d like to go the exhibition with me, or meet me there, I’d enjoy the company. Linda’s going to be sucking up and pimping her art for the night, so someone to talk to would be nice.”

“Zachary doesn’t go to these things?”

“Imagine Zachary in a room full of actual artists, wannabe artists, Linda, and at least one sculpture that will be shaped like either a penis or a pierced clit.”

Tyler tried to imagine it and all he could see was Zachary standing all alone in a corner trying to avoid conversations about the political ramifications of giving federal funding to people who pissed on canvas and called it art. He couldn’t help but laugh. “I see your point.”

“We dragged him to one when I first started working for him, but he managed to duck behind a sculpture of tongue performing cunnilingus, and escape right after the unveiling.” Precocious’s grin was dangerous amused. “Linda knows the artist and got a smaller version of that sculpture for Zachary for his birthday. The last time I saw it, it was half hidden behind some manuals on his bookshelf.”

“Why wouldn’t he take it home?”

“Would you want a prospective girlfriend to see a sexually explicit sculpture in *your* house?”

Tyler looked behind him into the living room and studied the layout. “I don’t think it’d go with the couch.”

“The boxes go nicely, though.”

“Thanks for noticing.” Tyler wasn’t sure what to make about the small smile Precocious gave him. He decided to change the subject. “What do I wear to this thing? I don’t think I’ve ever been to an art exhibition that had *new* pieces. The last one I went to was Monet.”

“He’s okay.” Precocious waved the name away like he wasn’t considered a particularly important painter to know. “Slacks and a button down shirt are fine. If you really want to fit in, feel free to throw on jeans and a few dozen safety pins. I’d say paint your nails, but I don’t think you can pull it off. No offense.”

“None taken.” Tyler looked down at his nails. “Although, I got them manicured when I lived in San Francisco.”

“You’re kidding?” Precocious looked somewhat shocked. “You don’t strike me as the meterosexual type.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Please, pretend you didn’t just hear me drop the ‘m’ word.”

Tyler laughed. “It’s a volatile word where you come from?”

“We’re in Southwestern Kansas. Also, I have a standing agreement with myself to never use word invented by fashion magazines. Linda will kill me.”

“Well, sure, if I’d heard anything remotely incriminating.”

“You are a good man.”

“Thank you.” Tyler smiled at her as a sudden thought went through his head. ~I’m flirting. I can’t be flirting. But I’m *flirting*.~ He blinked a few times, not noticing that Precocious was watching him with an odd expression on her face. “Um…”

“You okay?” She looked worried that he was going to keel over.

“I…” ~Come on, think of something! You’re usually quicker on your feet than this!~ Tyler stood up suddenly, he couldn’t sit any longer. “I’ve got errands to run. I should probably get started if we’re finished.”

“Yeah, we’re covered. I’ve got your notes. I’ll pass them to Zachary.” If Precocious thought the suddenness of being more or less kicked out was weird, she didn’t say anything. She gathered the files into a quick, neat pile, stuck them under her arm, and took a moment to rinse out her coffee cup in the sink. “I’ll see you-oh, wait!” She grabbed the pen off the kitchen table and scrawled a number onto the post-it pad that was stuck to the door of the fridge. “There’s my number. I can’t remember what time the exhibition starts, but call me when you get the chance, and I’ll let you know.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Tyler waved goodbye as Precocious let herself out. He didn’t move from his spot by the table until he heard her truck start up and start down the driveway. He looked around the kitchen at the signs that someone who wasn’t him had been around. Precocious’s mug was in the sink, there was a small ring of coffee on the plastic tablecloth. There was a phone number on the fridge. Tyler walked over to the fridge and looked at the number.

555-8135-Precocious

Her handwriting was somehow messy and precise at the same time. There was a flourish to her ‘p’ and a small loop at the end of her ‘s’, but it wasn’t anything that made reading it hard. It was the handwriting of someone who made sure that their handwriting could always be read. It was the handwriting of a woman who had asked Tyler on a date.

Tyler looked around the room again like he was going to get some divine sign. He was mildly disappointed when the kitchen light didn’t suddenly turn unbearably bright and bring the voice of James Earl Jones.

~I have a date.~ Tyler walked from the kitchen to the bathroom and looked at himself in the full-length mirror. ~I have a date with a woman half my age.~ He looked at his mildly receding hairline, at the way his stomach was a little soft right above his belt, at the laugh lines around his eyes, and it all suddenly seemed magnified. ~Maybe I should have been a metrosexual.~