From Cupid (Working Girl Book 1)

by CY Jones

  Tone Down the Crazy

  Harrison

  "Yeah, nope,” I tell my best friend, adamantly shaking my head. We’re at our favorite sports bar and during halftime, he broached the subject of hiring me to be the contractor on the house he and his wife just bought. Sure, I can get with that. I have an opening, so it’ll be easy to fit him in, but it’s the next thing he asks that I’m vehemently refusing.

  “Come on, man. She has had a really hard time with the divorce and everything,” Brian pleads.

  “Not my problem. You have no idea how psycho that chick went off on me at your wedding last year when I was just asking if she was alright.”

  “Well, she did just catch her husband cheating on her,” he shrugs. “How did you expect her to feel?” I give him a look and his face falls. “Look, I feel really bad about how that shit went down. She was my cousin and even though I didn’t know Justin well, I did know Tonya. I should have put my foot down when my mother insisted I invite her.”

  “That’s not your fault, dude. They are both grownups and accountable for their own actions, and from what I hear, she wasn’t his first transgression. If not her, it would have been someone else.”

  “I get that, but I still feel awful. Paige was completely shattered which, of course, hurt my wife. For fuck’s sake, we didn’t even find out about it until we came back from our honeymoon. I’m begging you, please work with her. She’s lost everything and she needs this.”

  Tipping my beer back, I sigh. He’s not going to let this shit go and I’ll be a shitty ass friend if I turn him down. I still get flashes of the hate and fire in her ice blue eyes all directed at me and not her prick of a husband, plus all the nasty shit she said to me. Granted, I didn’t pick the best time to confront her. My mind was elsewhere, like on the way her soft body felt pressed up against mine as we danced, or how I couldn’t take my eyes off her because she was so damn beautiful. When she told me she was married, I was furious because as I watched her, I also watched that asshole husband of hers chat it up with Brian’s slut for a cousin sitting next to him. Besides the wedding band on his finger, I’d never guess he was married to the beautiful blonde haired angel.

  “Fine,” I relent, already regretting my decision.

  “Thank you, man. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

  “You better be, and you also better make sure she tones down the crazy. As soon as she gets out of line, I’m out.”

  “I swear she’s better now and it won’t come down to that, you’ll see.”

  "I hope you’re right,” I mutter as I raise my hand for another beer. I might just need to get plastered tonight if I want to survive the next four months.

  Leaving the sports bar, I go home to an empty house. It’s not like I don’t have options. Women throw themselves at me all the time, I’m just too damn busy with my business and the supply warehouse I just opened up, and, well, most of them can be vultures. Gold diggers with the only goal in mind being to land a rich husband to take care of them. No, thank you. I earned my money with hard work and blood and sweat. I didn’t get where I am over night, and I’ll be damn if I let some female take all that away.

  Lounging on the sectional my mind drifts back to Paige. Why can’t I get that chick out of my head? Even looking at me like she wanted to kill me, I still wanted to fuck her. I wanted to turn that anger into something more worthwhile, more enjoyable for the both of us instead of me getting bitched out. Even now, my dick is getting hard as I think about all the things I want to do to her. She’s free now. We’ll be working closely together for the next four months and, as Brian explained, she’s more hands on than management, but I still can’t go there. I don’t do crazy and that chick is batshit.

  Sighing, I pull out my laptop and log into my From Cupid account. A business associate of mine who just got married told me about it. Like me, he too avoided the gold diggers and claimed this dating site was nothing short of magic. So after losing a bet, I signed up. I dismissed the first two matches the website sent me quite quickly and now I see they have a third waiting for me, a Valentine P. According to the test, we are a 96.4 % match. A much higher percentage than the first two they sent me. Throwing caution to the wind, I decide to message her. Hell maybe she’s my perfect match, or at least a distraction from a certain blonde haired beauty.

  Dear Valentine P

  I’m not the cheesy type so I’m not going to tell you your handle makes me want to sing ballets. Truth is, you’re a mystery. I don’t know you as you know nothing about me, so I’m going to play Socrates and ask questions, three to be exact, but I won’t ask the typical prying 'what you look like' questions. If this dating site is for real, then we should know if we were meant to be by our conversations.

  1.What is it you like to do to relax?

  2. What’s the last song you listened to?

  3. Tea or coffee

  Hope to hear from you soon… Cynical H

  Sending the message off, I sit back, folding my arms behind my head. Briefly, I wonder if she’ll write back. Things like this are always a hit or miss. Either she’ll be interested by my words or she’ll swipe left and move on to the next one, who knows?

  For the rest of the night, I watch another game on ESPN as I prepare for the next couple of days. I’ll be meeting Paige at Brian and Jodie’s house on Monday and I want to make sure everything is in order. I’ve already gotten the report back on the electrical and it wasn’t good. The whole electrical has to be redone throughout the whole house due to the old knob and tube wiring that had been used. It all has to be updated and I warned Brian tonight, with the size of the home, it’ll run around 5K. I’m glad they got the house at such a steal because I feel like this is going to be one hell of a project, but, as always, Brian isn’t worried about it. He has a heart of gold and it’s hard to upset him with his laidback, carefree nature. Brian is a good guy. The all American rich boy. Sometimes I forget he comes from a family of old money. Hard not to with his job as a mailman, living life how he wants instead of following his father’s footsteps and working corporate. I swear Jodie is the perfect match for him, I just wish she came with better friends.

  Once I get the last of my paperwork together, I turn in, hoping I didn’t make a mistake agreeing to work with Paige.

  New Me

  Paige

  I was up most of the night, going over the blueprints I was able to obtain online of Jodie’s house. A five bedroom, four and a half bath traditional style home, not far from the beach. From what I could see online, this place was huge, definitely a big job and I worried about the time limit. I wanted everything to be perfect for Jodie when she gets back, but I can’t be sure of anything until I laid eyes on the place myself. It’s not like it’s a new build from the ground up or anything daunting like that, I just hope we don’t have to replace everything. I know what happens when the care isn’t kept up on homes like these, no matter the neighborhood.

  Powering off my professional mode, I switch over to that dreaded From Cupid account and see they’ve already matched me with a Cynical H. Oh wow. Going by his handle he’s just as excited as I am about all this. Maybe he has a busybody best friend as well. His handle alone makes me want to open the email and I’m surprised by what he wrote. No asking what I look like or how many kids I have, do I work or any other prying questions. His email, although short, actually seems like he wants to get to know me, so I decide to answer.

  Dear Cynical H

  Love the handle BTW. I think that more than anything it left me intrigued to answer you. So if you’re Socrates does that make me Plato? Should I be asking the stars for the answers? Let's see… I do a lot of things to relax. I like to read, go to my favorite surfside restaurant, but mostly what really calms me is the sound of the crashing waves. Sometimes I think I’m more mermaid than human, which is fitting since I’m a Pisces. Like how I dropped that tidbit of info in there? Promise I won’t test you later.

  Believe it or not, the last song I listened to
was Hot Girl Bummer by Blackbear. Don’t judge me, it’s very catchy. Actually, do judge me because isn’t that what all this is all about? Instead of judging my face, you’re taking apart my words. Wondering, just like I am, are you the one? We've both decided to take on this new age approach and here we are.

  As to your last question I am a coffee person. Tea drinkers can’t be trusted. There's no way Lipton will get me ready for the day in the morning. Turn around is fair play and I think it’s only fair I get some answers myself.

  Which do you prefer, watching a thunderstorm or dancing in the rain?

  Are you a book person or a math person?

  Cats or dogs?

  Hope to hear from you soon

  Valentine P

  Smiling, I sign off. I don’t know what it is, but I’m actually intrigued by Cynical H. Maybe it’s the mystery of it all. Who knows who this man can be? With a few words, he’s chased away my doubts about the dating site. Maybe there’s something here or maybe there isn’t, but for the first time since my breakup with Justin, I was actually looking forward to finding out what the future holds for me.

  During the weekend, I distract myself with cleaning the condo and making myself feel like me again. Jodie will be leaving in a couple of days, so she has been getting her things and all her equipment together for the trip and spending as much time as she can with Brian. Not wanting to intrude on their quality time, which I’m confident they're fucking like rabbits during, I decided to get my hair done. I wanted to do something different to celebrate the new me. That is how I find myself sitting in Chaz's, a flamboyant gay man with a cute baby face, chair.

  “So, honey, what can I do for you?” He asks, laying his hand in a pose on his hip.

  I stare up at his spiky band boy style, admiring the dyed purple tips of his hair. I wish I could be like him and do something so bold.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I say, “I would like a slight trim and then have it dyed pink.” He arches a perfectly plucked, pierced brow, but then a magnificent smile comes over his face as he appraises my bold choice.

  “I knew I liked you,” he says, snapping open the protective cape and tying it around my neck. Closing my eyes, I lay back and let him do his thing.

  Chaz is a pretty good guy. Between clients, he still made sure to check up on me and knew all the best gossip. He’s also not shy to tell me about himself. He’s a reality TV fanatic, loves pop music and a little rock and roll, is allergic to doing his own laundry, and like me, thinks coffee is life. We both bonded over our favorite brand, Death Wish Coffee. Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. A sip a day keeps the serial killer out of your way, I swear. Sitting back in my chair, Chaz's light, expert touches curl my hair. He has me facing away from the mirror so I can't see the whole product 'till he’s done.

  An hour later, he removes the cape with a dramatic flair and dramatically calls out, “viola.”

  When he swivels me in the chair and I see what he’s done, my eyes water as an army of tears slips past my defenses.

  “Oh hun, I hope those are happy tears,” he says a little worried.

  “It’s fucking fantastic,” I whisper. The bubble gum pink compliments my once blonde hair well as the color blends in naturally. He’s shaken out the curls and my hair falls in smooth waves to the middle of my back. No longer is my hair stringy and unhealthy looking. It looked so rich and full, I halfway wondered if he put extensions in it. “I love it, I really do. You are a fucking artist Chaz, really.

  “My pleasure, honey bunny. Now you make sure to come back and see me. I licked you, so now you’re mine,” he replies and I laugh.

  Making an appointment to return for a touchup, I pay at the front counter and leave Chaz a big tip. It’s been a while since a man made me feel good about myself. Gay or not, Chaz is a miracle worker. On the way back home, I swing by Starbucks and take a seat outside since it was such a gorgeous day. Pulling out my phone, I bring up my From Cupid account as I sip my mocha frappe. Cynical H didn’t reply back to me yesterday or this morning when I woke, but I do have a message now. Smiling, I open it up and read his response.

  Dear Valentine P

  I think I rather like the idea of being your teacher and glad you find me intriguing. I have to admit, I find you intriguing as well. And you’re right, turn around is fair play. To answer your questions, for the first one I have to choose both. I wouldn’t complain if I were caught out in the rain. There’s something about the smell of rain that’s so calming, and I have to admit watching lightning excites me. It’s like God’s creation right before our eyes, a living work of art.

  I love reading, but because of what I do, I’m a numbers person. I have to have everything perfect to a T or everything will fall apart, so that’s where the numbers come in. I have to admit, I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t had the time to read.

  Answering your last question, I hate cats. My best friend just inherited one and well, that little demon makes me hate the whole species. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pro animal, but that cat is Satan.

  I hope my answers haven’t scared you off. I was a bit more honest than I wanted, but isn’t honesty what all this is about? I slipped a little detail about my life as you did. As your teacher, you can’t test me but I can test you. What do you think my job is? Tell me one thing significant you did this weekend. Last and probably the most difficult, what do you value most?

  Hope to hear from you soon, siren

  Cynical H

  Instead of answering him right away, I sit and ponder over his answers. The whole time I’m thinking, can this man be more perfect? I mean, is he for real or some figment of my imagination? I couldn’t answer those questions anymore perfect than if I wrote them myself and provided them for him. And his ending line. He called me siren, which means he paid attention and remembered I’m a Pisces. I was dying over his cat comment. It reminded me too much of Goldielocks. Because of her, I’m not a fan of cats either, but Jodie loves the little trouble maker. I shudder at the thought of Cynical H’s friend's cat and Goldielocks getting together. Oh the hell they would cause.

  On my way home, I try to think about what he did for a living. Without much detail, it could be anything. A math teacher or maybe an architect since he said without the math everything will fall apart. A contractor, but that only made me think about Harrison, the last person, besides Justin, I wanted to think about. Tomorrow will be the first time I’ve seen him since I was a mega bitch to him at the wedding and I was dreading it. Jodie already called me to confirm the time and to let me know she won’t be able to make it because she’ll be in meetings all day.

  The dumpster has already been delivered so after we finish the walkthrough, we could start demo. Brian will also be working, but Jodie said she trusted my judgement in what walls I’d like to remove and such, but I still won’t do anything so dramatic until I go over the design with her on Tuesday. Tuesday night they are throwing a little get together and early Thursday morning, she will be gone. I should be used to her going off to random places, but it’s still hard to see her leave each and every time. Worse for her this time since she’ll be leaving behind a husband. In fact, this is her and Brian’s first real big separation.

  When I lay my head down, a man I don’t even know fills my mind until I fall asleep. Is it possible to fall in love with someone you don’t know? That’s what I think about last when my dreams take me.

  Grumpy Asshole

  Paige

  I wake to my phone ringing and I want to throw the offending object across the room. With my eyes still closed, I answer with a mumbled hello.

  “Paige, what the hell? Are you okay?” Jodies asks in a panicked voice.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, sitting up. “Where’s the fire?”

  “Harrison called and said you haven’t showed up yet and I was worried about you.” At her words, I look at the time on my phone and I curse.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry, babe. I forgot to set my alarm.” Bolting
up from the bed, I run to my closet and start throwing things out of the drawer, not even caring if it matched or not.

  “Oh,” Jodie replies. “Well, you might want to get your cute butt over there, Harrison doesn’t do lateness. He’s too much of a perfectionist for that.”

  “Of course he is,” I grumble.

  She asks, “what is that?”

  "I said I’m getting ready now. Love you, bye,” I reply, before hanging up the phone.

  I take the fastest shower of my life and without really looking, I throw on the clothes I pulled out while on the phone with Jodie. No time for coffee, I grab my iPad and run out of the condo like my ass is on fire. Lucky for me, traffic isn’t too bad, but it still didn’t help me with the grumpy looking asshole standing outside the house with a clipboard in his hand and his arms crossed. He’s tapping his foot and I focus on that instead of the pissed off look on his handsome face.