by Susan Rohrer
Kate had to smile. M.J. had a talent for slicing through the subterfuge, right to the scary, naked truth underneath. “He’s convinced it’s this big career move.”
“It’s a move alright,” M.J. intuited.
Kate’s face fell. She’d tried so hard to persuade herself that there was no reason to feel threatened. “Maybe it wasn’t that kind of move,” Kate replied. “Maybe she just sees his potential as an actor.”
M.J. waved a stalk of celery insistently. “Kate! Sweetie, you were Phi Beta Carotene, how can you not get this? Some Wissy person—-and by the way, what kind of name is that? So, Wissy thoroughly puts a clamp on your heretofore-exclusive boyfriend right under your cute little nose and, zippidy-do-dah, he’s seeing other people.”
“He’s not seeing other people. It’s business.” It sounded preposterous to Kate. She knew it, just as soon as she said it. Then again, she wasn’t entirely sure.
“Business.”
“Our business is not like yours, M.J.”
“No, you’re both waiters.”
Kate stuffed cucumber peelings down the disposal. “I’m talking about acting. Dustin and me—no, I, Dustin and I—anyway, we have to be able to trust each other. We’re both going to be in positions, I mean, please God, hopefully, where we have to at least act like we’re attracted to other people. It’s part of the job.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
M.J. shrugged. “Okay. Hey, if it doesn’t make you crazy that your boyfriend kisses other girls for a living, then I guess you’re more secure than I’d ever be. That is, if I actually had a boyfriend in the first place.” A girlish smile curled on M.J.’s lips. “Change of subject?”
Kate welcomed the reprieve. “Please.”
“So, I saw him again, today.”
Still preoccupied, Kate willed herself to take an interest. “Who, him?”
M.J. beamed. “Mr. Nameless But Adorable. Gotta love a guy who’s so sweet to his dog.”
Unable to let go, Kate blurted. “Do you really think Dustin wants to see other people? Because isn’t that just a euphemism for breaking up? And tell me, how is it that we can possibly be breaking up when my mother is planning our wedding?”
M.J. wryly stepped to the cabinet and pulled out some plates. “Oh, pardon. Did you not detect that the conversation had moved on to matters affecting me?”
Immediately, Kate felt awful. It wasn’t like her to be so self-absorbed, especially not with M.J. Truth be told, M.J. had been more like a sister than a roommate, ever since Kate had moved west, not knowing a solitary soul. She’d found M.J.’s post on a Roommate Wanted board, something that could be a dicey proposition in L.A. But as different as they were, the two of them had clicked, making a home away from home in the city.
“Sorry. Give me a second, then tell me absolutely everything,” Kate repented as she flipped on the garbage disposal.
M.J. heard the sickening ca-chunk as the device quickly jammed. “Houston, we have a problem.”
two
♥
Charlie Butters padded over to Samantha’s office door and cautiously peered inside. It was like navigating a veritable minefield, he thought, never knowing which step he took could be his very last. As long as he’d worked at Virtually Mine, Charlie had never found a way to get entirely comfortable there, especially not with his femme fatale of a boss. Like always, she knew he was at her door. He could tell. But this seemed to be one of those times that she would force him to initiate. Finally, he gave her executive doorframe a tap.
“Knocking off early?” Samantha hardly looked up from her computer.
Charlie buckled. He always did that when an attractive woman spoke to him, but even more so with his boss, the woman who held the purse strings to his meager existence. She was the kind of woman his father had preached many a Sunday sermon about, warning of the perils for those who fell prey.
“Well, I got here eleven, no, actually twelve hours ago, Ms. Raznick,” Charlie explained. “So...I’m not so much ‘knocking off early’ but still, I think I need to go.”
Unimpressed, Samantha finally looked up. “The new Imaginary fully integrated into the system yet?”
“Eric Bender, you mean. Well... I got this kind of 9-1-1 text from that apartment building I manage, sort of an all-out garbage disposal emergency and—”
“Charlie, you know how jealous I get.”
“Yes, yes. But I’m not exactly, you know...”
Samantha preened. She had a way of posturing herself when she spoke to maximize the intimidation factor for Charlie. “Is exclusive the word you’re grasping for?”
Sweat beaded on Charlie’s palms. He wiped them off on his pants, hoping she wouldn’t notice. “Yes. I mean, no... Well, in the employment sense I’m...I’m not even full-time. Not that I wouldn’t like to be exclusive—uh—or full-time, that is.”
“Don’t need another full-time computer guy, Charlie,” she intoned. “I just need your completely undivided attention during the two-point-five days a week that you’re here.”
Charlie’s mind raced. For months, he’d been trying to work up the nerve to have a serious conversation about his prospects with the rapidly expanding company. Time after time, he’d waited for the right opportunity and now that stomach-turning moment had arrived. Charlie attempted to swallow the hairball in his throat. He took a step into the office, his desire for privacy barely outweighing his abject terror of venturing into her space.
“I could maybe...eventually even quit my day, I mean, night job managing if you’d... It’s not like I aspire to unstop toilets or chase down rent. I could be, like, an Operator, maybe...get some more hours.”
Ah. It was out there. Finally. And the world hadn’t even come to an end. Yet.
Samantha looked up. She scanned Charlie from his discount store tennis shoes to his ordinary bespectacled face. “An Operator. Servicing imaginary relationships.”
Reflexively, Charlie began to back out the door. “You know what? Forget I even...”
“Ever had a girlfriend, Charlie?”
Charlie thought back. Nothing. He reached back farther. “Well, in tenth grade there was this—”
“Ever been in love?”
Charlie’s expression changed as he considered the question. He realized that he had been very much in love. Then, just as suddenly, Charlie’s brow furrowed with uncertainty. “With somebody? You mean at the same time as that person was in love with me?”
Samantha nodded. “Mm-hmm.” She had a talent for making Charlie feel just as absurd as he realized he sounded.
His face fell. “Then no,” he admitted.
Samantha studied Charlie for what seemed an eternity, never breaking that penetrating gaze of hers. It seemed to pierce right through him, like she had some kind of sci-fi superpower. “You’ve never been with a woman. Have you?”
For the first time, Charlie straightened his back defensively. “Now, see...here’s the thing about that. I’m pretty sure a, uh, response to that is not—due respect of course—it isn’t a prerequisite for permanent full-time legitimate hire. And please, please assure me that this company is entirely legitimate, because I already promised my dad that it was.”
Samantha smiled knowingly. “You’ve never even pursued a woman, have you?”
Charlie shifted on his feet. “See, I’ve really been planning to, I just—”
She sat back. She massaged the nape of her neck, continuing to assess him. “Plenty of pent-up unrequited emotion to draw from. Over a decade of latent longing... Okay.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Okay?” As soon as he’d asked, he realized that he shouldn’t have. He knew that Samantha Raznick was not a woman to repeat herself. When she’d made up her mind, that was that.
“You’ve got two weeks,” Samantha allowed. “Tech maintenance is still priority, but you can try operating for the balance to thirty hours. Pull your weight and I bump you to full time, after which I would, of course, expect y
ou to dump the apartment managing job.”
Charlie couldn’t believe it. “You won’t regret this,” he promised, still trying to convince himself that she wouldn’t.
“Stirring ardor toward your comelier female counterparts can exact a personal toll,” Samantha warned. “So, when it comes to regretting this decision, the question is: Will you?”
♥ ♥ ♥
Kate pulled her jacket closed as she hurried along the block to Dustin’s bungalow. The sun had gone down, but the night air wasn’t the only thing giving her a bit of a chill.
Over dinner, M.J. had said something that kept rattling around in Kate’s head. She had floated a not-so-subtle hint that Kate could do better than Dustin. Kate never saw herself as being better than anyone else, so she had quickly risen to Dustin’s defense. Sure, Kate was aware of their differences, but Dustin was still a great guy. She liked to think how their strengths and weaknesses balanced each other out and made them an even better couple.
As she walked along, Kate thought about the many ways that Dustin had found a place in her heart. He was sweet and playful and fearless. He was always calling, popping with ideas for fun things that they could do. Dustin had given her a sense of belonging there, something she really appreciated whenever she got homesick. Mostly, she thought about how he’d encouraged her to get past her doubts and have faith in herself. So, it seemed only fair that she should set her worries aside, and have a little faith in him, too.
Determined to prove M.J. wrong, Kate knocked on Dustin’s door. His bungalow was a tiny place—one room with a postage stamp kitchen and a bath. She’d helped him find it and fix it up a bit with garage sale chic.
“Coming!” Dustin called from inside. It was reassuring till he opened the door, and a quizzical expression crossed his face. “Kate, hi. Didn’t we say we weren’t going to work tonight?”
“You did, ” Kate started, “but I was thinking... I just...ahh... Okay, forgive the sentence fragments, but cards-on-the-table here. Maybe I just thoroughly read this wrong, so tell me if I’m just spaced but is there any chance... Are you thinking you want to see other people?”
Dustin tipped his head, a look of confusion on his face. “What...do you think we should?”
“I don’t,” Kate clarified. “But with today and the whole thing with Wissy...”
Checking behind him, Dustin quickly closed the door over and whispered, “Oh! Right, right. I meant to tell you. Soon as she gets me going with this casting director, I’m totally passing the favor on to you.”
Following Dustin’s train of thought could be challenging. As endearing as he could be, he wasn’t the crunchiest chip in the bag. “Dustin, why are you whispering?”
“Because Wissy’s here. We’re gonna rehearse,” he explained with an innocence that Kate knew extended well beyond his ability to act.
“She’s here?!” Kate blurted. The words came out just as Wissy opened the door carrying two wine glasses in one hand.
“Oh. Hi, Kate,” Wissy leaned coyly toward Dustin. “Dusty—now, what do you think? I brought red or white. I know it’s going with salmon, but I don’t mind breaking the rules.”
“Red’s great,” Dustin replied.
With that Wissy waltzed back in toward the kitchen. “Almost ready,” she cooed.
Dustin turned back to Kate. She could see that, clearly, he just wasn’t getting it. “She’s cooking for you?”
“Yeah, great, huh?” Dustin beamed. “Love salmon.”
“And she brought wine? Dustin, this is a date,” Kate protested.
“No, it’s not,” Dustin insisted. “It’s not a date unless a guy says it’s a date, and I promise. I didn’t say that. This is work. And I told you I’ve got to get at least some kind of something going on with her if the scene’s going to fly.”
Unable to mask her fears, Kate pressed. “That would be the rampantly gaga, smash-face scene you were going to do with me?”
Again, Dustin tipped his head. He always did that when things weren’t quite computing. “Kate, I’m really starting to wonder about you. I mean, I can handle this acting thing. But you... You really gotta learn to split the personal stuff from the work.”
Kate absorbed his words, incredulous. “I need to... You think I...” Shaking her head in disbelief, Kate continued. “You know what? You’re right. Maybe we should see other people because, no, I can’t handle this. You want to go work with Wissy? Then go ahead. Do what you have to do. Why let the good thing we’ve had going for the past three months stand in your way?”
Grinning broadly, Dustin grabbed Kate for a stunningly oblivious hug. “Thanks, Kate! I knew you’d be cool with this.” With a wave, he hurried back inside and closed the door.
Crushed, Kate just stood there staring. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she finally replied, too softly for Dustin to hear. “Who said I was cool with this?!”
There was something about ice cream that had always comforted Kate growing up. It reminded her of happier times, when she and her Mom would walk to the Crozet Mennonite dairy where they churned five different flavors by hand. Kate’s choice would always depend upon her mood, a pattern Kate’s mom had pointed out to her. When things were going great, Kate would pick strawberry. She’d congratulate herself with butter pecan or peach. But now and again, there were those times when nothing consoled her like the heaviest artillery of all: full-fatted chocolate.
It had been years since Kate had eaten ice cream. She’d sworn off dairy, in fact. Still, three thousand miles from that Mennonite store, Kate reached into the freezer case at her Santa Monica grocer. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it would have to do. Kate pulled out a pint of Rocky Road and closed the door. Her mind wandering to visions of whatever sizzling dish Wissy was serving up to Dustin, Kate reopened the freezer case and switched the pint for two half gallons.
♥ ♥ ♥
Wearily, Charlie approached his apartment door. Taped under the Manager sign was a folded note that said: Charlie...Help!!! It was signed, Mrs. Teasdale, apartment 305 (as if Charlie’s memory were every bit as challenged as his somewhat eccentric tenant’s).
Mrs. Teasdale was never shy in her usage of exclamation points, or about expecting help far above and beyond the normal duties of an apartment building manager. Whether her roof was caving in, she’d heard some noise, or if she’d just forgotten how to reset her clocks, the widow Teasdale was an equal opportunity punctuator.
Sometimes, it seemed that Mrs. Teasdale was just lonely. So, Charlie went and sat with her when he had time. Charlie knew what it was like to be lonesome, and besides, visiting older folks was another one of those things his dad had always encouraged him to do.
So, visit Mrs. Teasdale, he did. As her cats popped their claws on her furniture unhindered, he’d help her find whatever was lost in her all too cluttered apartment. There was an up side to visiting Mrs. Teasdale, Charlie realized. She’d serve him chamomile tea and ginger snaps, then chatter his dateless Saturday nights away.
Charlie inserted his key and opened his apartment door. There were three additional notes that had been shoved underneath. Two more were from Mrs. Teasdale, looking much the same as the first. Charlie’s heartbeat went double-time when he saw that the third note (with nary an exclamation point) was from his next-door neighbor. All it said was:
So sorry to bug you at work. ~ Kate
She’d buttoned the message with a conciliatory smiley face, the lips drawn kind of crinkly in the middle before curling up at the ends. In the seclusion of his bachelor apartment, Charlie ran an affectionate finger across the spot where Kate had written her name.
“You don’t bug me, Katie,” he murmured, a soft smile on his lips. “Well, you do...but not at all in a bothery kind of way.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Kate slumped on the sofa, numbly downing ice cream with a tablespoon, straight out of the carton. The phone rang repeatedly, but Kate couldn’t bring herself to pick up the call. She just stared, even when she heard her
mother’s voice, leaving a message.
“Hi, Sweetie. Daddy and I are going to bed, but I’m just so happy for you and Dustin and I thought maybe I’d catch you in.”
“Hi, Baby.” Kate’s dad, Wally, chimed in from the background.
Her mom’s voice broke a bit. She finished her message half giggling. “Yeah, sorry we missed you, but—Wally! Wally, quit. You know how kids hate to hear this kind of thing! Let me just—” Her mom barely returned her attention to the call. “Anyway, Honey, nightie night!” A torrent of laughter from both followed, long before the phone disconnected.
Kate’s parents had that wonderful kind of relationship, still playfully amorous after all these years. Usually, Kate found these peeks into their love life encouraging. They had exactly what she wanted, no doubt. But on this particular night, their togetherness only hammered home how dejected and alone Kate already felt.
M.J. emerged from her room, her arms piled high with laundry. “You gonna be okay while I’m out?”
Kate removed the spoon from her mouth and stuck it into the ice cream carton with a sigh. “Yeah, I’ve got, like, a jillion fat grams here to keep me company.” She tried to smile, though tears streaked.
Balancing her load precariously, M.J. opened the door to leave, just as Charlie had his hand raised to knock, a toolbox in tow.
M.J. checked Kate’s mood warily, and then turned back to Charlie. “Charlie, hi. Maybe it’s not the best...”
Charlie looked past M.J. to Kate’s tear-stained face and quickly sized up the situation. “Is this a bad time? It’s a bad time.”
“Well...” M.J. began.
“No, come in, Charlie,” Kate managed. “We need the sink back.”
M.J. flashed Kate an ‘are you sure?’ glance.
“I’m fine,” Kate retorted. “Look at me, how fine I am.”
Entering, Charlie stopped in his tracks. Seeing the ice cream, Charlie whispered to a departing M.J. “Is that dairy? That’s dairy.”
