Gentlemen Only

Crossroads

The next week Meredith found herself standing on the a stoop of Gentlemen Only, just as she had the previous Tuesday. The difference now, though, was that although she was dolled up beyond recognition in what Janet had deemed a fit of inspiration, Meredith's anxiety level was slight compared to that first encounter. Perhaps the layers of make-up Janet spent hours meticulously applying cloaked Mer in a shell of bravado, or maybe the lack of anxiety stemmed from the fact that Meredith, a woman so programmed for routine familiarity, could do anything twice. It was doing something that pushed her out of her comfort zone that she found difficult, especially if it was the first time.

Still, she was true to form as she hesitated momentarily on the first step, debating whether or not she felt like battling with herself. She had two choices: go in, and hope that nobody remembered the poor gangly girl that broke her nose, or second, and more likely, go in and hope the embarrassment of them not forgetting didn't kill her. Turning around and running from her fears hadn't gotten her anywhere thus far, so she didn't really consider that an option.

The only saving grace was the fact that this time, there wasn't a ridiculously gorgeous guy hovering over her shoulder, and she could breathe easier as she took her time gearing up to open the door.

A slight drizzle beaded up on her umbrella as a misty fog settled around the large brick buildings that boxed her in.

"You have to go in, you know." A soft voice issued close to her ear. "There's no going back."

Meredith jumped, startled, whipping her head to the side. Unfortunately, she misjudged the distance between the other person and herself. Their foreheads met in a painful collision, sending a radiating pain shooting through her face and barely healing nose. The umbrella dropped to the ground, forgotten.

"Ow." Meredith winced, eyes beginning to water.

"Are you planning to make it a habit to injure yourself every time I'm around?" A nasally, pinched voice asked from behind a large hand.

"Jet!" Meredith yelped, jumping back into the cold railing. Her shoe lost its grip on the slick, wet cement and her leg slipped out from underneath her.  Jet's strong arms shot out, hooking under her arms and preventing her from hitting the pavement.

"That proves my point." Jet grunted, righting himself and steadying Meredith as she tottered on tiny kitten heels. "Those shoes are deadly." He mumbled into her now wet hair.

"Yeah they're killer." She joked, trying to ignore the heat of his body on hers. "What are you doing here?" She questioned, stomach squeezing uneasily at the gentleness of his touch. "You're not scheduled here until next week."

In truth, she had been hoping to avoid him at the club this week. The awkward moment they'd shared in the office on Friday, albeit hot, had left Meredith with an icy unease in the pit of her stomach that she didn't comprehend. Her skin burned uncomfortably when she recalled their nearness, her breathing increased painfully when she imagined him in close proximity . She didn't know what it meant, but it filled her with a sense of ill foreboding.

Footing now stable, Jet removed his arms from around her and turned her to face him. He gazed at her a long while before her checks reddened to a gleaming scarlet. 

" I just didn't want C-" he stopped abruptly, averting his guilty eyes from her inquisitive ones . He scratched his head and smiled sheepishly before continuing. "I need to speak with someone. They won't be here next week." Jet brushed off the inquiry coolly. "Business matters."

"I see." Meredith replied in an equally indifferent tone. She wondered vaguely why he hadn't mentioned it at work, but then, he didn't run everything past her. Sometimes Jet was secretive, though it wasn't intentional; he often got caught up in his own thoughts and neglected to share them.