Best Day Ever: A gripping psychological thriller with a twist you won’t see coming!. Kaira Rouda
way to the horizon. I knocked on her open door and she looked up. When a faint blush began circling her cheeks, I knew she was mine.
“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?” I said, leaning against the doorway. I was wearing a new designer suit, navy, with a crisp white shirt and a red power tie. I knew I looked good. Her office was messy, a typical creative desk, strewn with rough sketches and preliminary layouts for ads; storyboards for television spots were tacked to the cork-covered wall on her right. The only non-work-related item on her desk was a framed eight-by-ten photo of her parents, who were notable Manhattan movers and shakers I already knew from my research. The only surprise: her office had a window as big as mine. That meant the partners were wooing her, though not the way I was, of course.
Behind her desk, Mia blinked those big blue eyes.
“I was thinking Diamond’s, the new restaurant in German Village. I haven’t been yet, but I hear it’s fabulous. I should be able to get us a great table.” I managed to employ my smile-wink right then and I saw she was interested. It was the chemistry in the air, that zing of electricity rushing between us. And we had barely touched yet. I felt an attraction to Mia that was foundational, at some cellular level. I knew she sensed it, too.
“Sounds good,” she said. “I hope to be finished with this ad by six, seven at the latest.”
“I’ll make the reservation for seven thirty. Shall we meet there or can I give you a ride?” I was hoping she would let me pick her up and drive her to the restaurant. I had a sporty two-seater black Audi back then, a convertible. She would look fabulous sitting beside me, I remember thinking. And then there was the anticipation of walking her to the door, of being asked inside. But it didn’t happen.
“I’ll meet you there. Thanks, Paul,” she said, blinking again, the color still in her cheeks. She tapped a pencil on her desk. She needed to get back to work, I realized.
“See you tonight,” I told her, disappointed I’d be arriving alone. I was hopeful I wouldn’t be leaving by myself after dinner. I was officially smitten. I knew I would do everything in my power to make Mia realize what a catch I was, too. It was time for my best moves, my most charming seduction. Of course I would succeed, I always do. When you’ve got it, you’ve got it. I’m not bragging, really, I’m just telling you there are some things I’m really good at and this—women—is one of them.
At dinner, I continued my offensive. When the chocolate crème brûlée arrived, you should have seen her face.
“This is my favorite dessert,” she said, clapping her hands as they slid the decadent custard in front of her at the table. “How did you know?”
It’s funny the things you can learn on the internet, the little details that can betray so much about a person if only you know where to look. Like pictures on a society magazine’s website—a lovely young woman at a banquet with her wealthy parents, dainty dishes of a certain decadent dessert on the tables in front of them. I’ve never been one to pass up the opportunity to glean information on the people in my life—colleagues, clients, business rivals. Women. You never know, do you, when a trivial bit of background might turn the tide in your favor. But I could hardly tell Mia any of that; it was our first date, after all. Instead I smiled, gave her the signature wink and said, “A lucky guess.”
With the pleasant memory of a Mia who savored her desserts fresh in my mind, I have succeeded in tuning out the horrible country music bombarding my brain and focus instead on the happiness I feel driving into Lakeside without having to pay a fee. The gates don’t drop until Memorial Day weekend. I smile as I drive the Flex, too quickly per the posted 15 Miles per Hour sign, into our blissful little retreat. Whenever I drive into this place, with its charming cottages, most with rocking chairs dotting their porches, this community with its vast stretches of green-grass parks and big blue sky and water views, I’m reminded that I’ve made it. I know everything will be fine, no matter what the future brings. I’ve always believed that. Mia still loves me. I take a deep breath, sucking in pure Americana.
Enjoy the drive, I tell myself, noticing the little cottages in pink and white and red and green lining the street, with their tulip flags flapping, their cement geese dressed for spring. Enjoy driving through this picturesque Eden, heading toward Lake Erie, a lake so shallow all of the water turns over every two and a half years. Bet you didn’t know that.
Did you know if you didn’t put your foot on the brake as you came to the end of this street, you’d drive across some bright green grass, over the dark sand beach and into the water, ending up at the bottom of the shallowest Great Lake in the United States?
It’s still deep enough to kill you, of course.
I turn right and, lucky us, find a parking spot, the universe making up for the croissants. This is the way this day is supposed to go, smoothly, joyously. Now that we are finally here in Lakeside all will be well. Except for the fact that it’s crowded. This is unexpected. I imagined we would find Lakeside deserted, like an old Western town after the gold rush. But that isn’t the case.
I can see from the street that Sloopy’s Sports Café is bustling with midwestern vacationers, no doubt mostly from Ohio, enjoying the first sunny weekend in May. On the surprisingly busy main street of town I see men wearing sports shorts and T-shirts, T-shirts that will change to wifebeater tank tops when the weather heats up. Many of the guys who vacation here love the Cleveland Indians and the Ohio State Buckeyes. They’ll tuck a football they carried to lunch onto the seat of the booth beside them, and play pass with their kids after lunch. They will be upset, very upset, if their sons don’t throw a perfect spiral by age ten. I know from experience, trust me.
The women wear stretchy yoga pants or tennis clothes, although I don’t agree with that look unless you are thin. If you aren’t a thin woman, you should wear a dress. A loose-fitting dress that will cover all your excess, that will hide your sins. The kids are hyper, just like my boys are when they’re here. They’ll agree to sit with their parents only long enough to gobble a pizza slice and then they’re off, enjoying the freedom of youth in a place where nothing bad ever happens. The smattering of youngsters I see on the sidewalk look sticky and sweaty, like they could use a long shower.
I cover my disdain for my fellow Ohioans behind my poker face and sunglasses. I shouldn’t be surprised that Mia and I aren’t the only ones hoping for a peaceful weekend getaway, but I am. I’d relied on my memory of last year’s preseason visit, but perhaps it was in April. But it’s fine. I’ll adjust.
You have to be nimble if you want to get anywhere in life, that much I’ve learned. Take my early courtship of Mia, for instance. Sure, the first date had gone well, but I was aware that I needed to step up my game. Mia Pilmer was accustomed to the best money could buy and I knew she could smell a pretender deep in her soul. I waited a whole two days before I asked her out again, let her memory of our first date, our first chaste kiss, settle in her heart. And then, when we “just happened” to find ourselves on the elevator alone, I asked her to dinner at the finest restaurant in town for Friday night. Of course she said yes, and of course I surprised her by ordering foie gras. “My favorite. You are full of surprises, Mr. Strom.”
I like to think I still am. It’s a gift, this ability to anticipate people’s needs. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy being one step ahead of my young wife-to-be. Soon enough, everything Mia enjoyed when she listened to my stories of foreign travel and television shoots in exotic locations, everything she liked that she thought she saw in me, I became. It’s who I am now, with her. It’s who we are together.
Sloopy’s is located in downtown Lakeside, nestled on a corner of Second Street, part of a quaint block of storefronts in an old brick building. I pull open the forest green–framed screened door and usher Mia inside in front of me. There’s a crowd standing in the doorway. She shrinks back into me,