Margo smells good today, I catch a whiff of her as I walk past her in the hall with the weird plants. "I catch a whiff of her" -- that's probably not a good phrase to use in association with a woman. Anyway, she smells like flowers.
"Hey, so I hear you're my date on Thursday," Margo says and give me The Smile. She's wearing a pink wool skirt suit today, sort of a Jackie O thing.
"The Interbionics thing."
"Right, right," I say. Interbionics, the software company run by a cabal of Aryan supervillains, is opening their West Coast office in Old Town this week. I should say allegedly run by Aryan supervillains, I don't really know. "Yes, I am your date. What are you wearing?"
"Why do you ask? You don't want to wear the same outfit as me?" she says.
"Funny," I say. I like this thing we do, the banter thing.
"I have a gown I'm wearing. The party's black tie."
"Yeah, Mackenzie, it'll be just like prom," she says.
"Just like prom?" I ask. I got lucky with Sherri Casperson on prom night. I like to think of it as the night I became A Man.
Margo cocks an eyebrow. "You wish. Just don't get fresh, my dad will kill you."
She slugs me in the arm and strolls off.
That was like, flirting. I was flirting with Margo. I mean, it was crude unintelligent flirting, but flirting nevertheless. Hey, wait a second -- I have a date with Margo. I mean, it's a work thing, but we're dressing up and having dinner and stuff, and maybe dancing. That makes it a date.
I'm suddenly nervous.