by JD Hawkins
Chad plays a painfully fake game of “accidentally” sidestepping and blocking Annika’s path a few times, all the while beaming his big ivory teeth at her, then checking out her ass as she moves past him. He steps inside my office still smiling and shuts the door. I move around to my desk to get started on my work—partly to show him that I don’t care much for his presence, and partly because looking at him is enough to make my skin crawl.
He’s head of market analysis—the so-called “data guys,” though the department is half women—but that’s only the beginning of my problems with him. He’s a creep with a terrible personality that not even his male-model good looks can redeem. For the past year he’s been affecting a slight European accent, and been rejected by every woman in the building.
Fortunately, the slimeball works on a different floor, so having to see him wear white pants so tight I can see that he’s circumcised, or overhearing him improvise a story about his prior night’s “conquest” is a rare occurrence. Rare, but still too often.
He seems particularly happy today, which is making me depressed.
“So,” he says in a cheerful tone, “you’re gonna be a star, are you?”
“I already am one, sweetie.”
He laughs but I can tell it’s a little forced, that my lack of interest in his mockery has taken the wind out of his sails.
“I just figured it would be a sex tape that made you famous,” he says. “Not a jewelry line.” I say nothing, instead writing a few notes on Harriet’s merchandising plan while he drones on. You get good at blocking people out when you work with someone like Chad.
“You know, I kept telling people it was only a matter of time,” he says, casually checking out the mannequin and probably considering hitting on it, “until your ego grew too big for the company.”
“Did anyone accidentally pay attention?”
He drops a folder on my desk and I glance up just long enough to see that his smile looks rather bitter now, his eyes glaring at me with a sense of defeated anger.
“The analysis for your new career,” he says. “But if you want my advice—”
“I don’t.”
“—You’ll ditch the idea before you make a fool of yourself.”
“If you want my advice, Chad, you’ll change your cologne. I’m going to have to get Harriet to make a copy of that report so my office doesn’t smell like a slaughterhouse.”
I continue to keep my eyes on my desk but I can sense his frustration from the way he dashes to the door. He opens it and stops, turning back for one final attempt at rattling me.
“You know, Maeve, it’s only a matter of time before we hook up. It’s inevitable.”
I look up at him and laugh, genuinely amused.
“Oh, honey, even if I genocided a small country, I would still regard that as an unfair punishment.”
Chad’s face twists into a bizarre expression as he tries to look anything other than petulantly upset. He settles for pointing a finger-gun at me, winking, and leaving. I shiver the cringe away and get back down to work.
7
Toby
“Be here at seven sharp, Toby.”
“Sure thing,” I tell my sister, gesturing across the shop to show Sharon that one of her regular and best customers just entered.
“I mean it. This isn’t some all-night party we’re having. We’re gonna have the food ready for that time and we’ve got to think about the baby. If you turn up at nine we’ll all have eaten and the food will be cold and we’ll have probably put the baby to sleep already but you’ll want to see her and probably end up just waking her up and—”
“Mia, relax. I’ll be on my way as soon as I close up shop today. Straight there.”
“Okay, good.”
There’s a brief silence on the phone and I decide it’s the most natural time to ask. I walk into the back as I do so, not hiding anything, but feeling like I should.
“So… Who else is gonna be there?” I ask as innocently as I can.
“Ah… We’ve got a few people coming,” Mia says, unable to hide a sense of mischief in her voice.
“Who?”
“You’ll find out when you come.”
That same tone, except now it’s making me a little anxious. What’s with the games? Is she talking about Maeve? Does she know what happened between us? Would Maeve tell her? Even if Maeve told her what happened, why would Mia sound almost excited at the prospect of us meeting there?
“Come on. Tell me.”
“I’m not saying a thing. Just come on time, okay?”
“Sure, I will, but—”
She’s hung up before I can think of a way to word my curiosity without revealing anything, and I stare at my phone for a second in confusion. I pace a little in the back, trying to figure out what the hell might be going on, then head out purposefully.
“Hey Sharon,” I call as I grab my coat and round the counter, “I’m heading out for a while. Gotta get a present for my niece. If I’m not back, just close up yourself.”
She nods and turns back to the customer. I head out in a hurry. Mia’s right about one thing—curiosity will get me there on time tonight.
I’m not the kind of guy to dwell on hookups, but my night with Maeve last weekend has been playing in my mind like a movie stuck on repeat. I’ve even been checking out a few of her socials to “jog” my memory. No surprise, it took a year before I stopped jerking off to her last time we hooked up.
Maeve’s the kind of woman who always leaves quicker than you’d like, but the kind you can’t get out of your head quite that quickly. I even went cool on an Eastern European supermodel who was giving me an easy in today at the store because it felt like a downgrade. It feels almost like withdrawal, like I’ve got to recover from Maeve before I can fully get into my rhythm again.
But that doesn’t mean I’m a fool. Not this time at least. I might have wasted a lot of time (and a lot of opportunities) falling for women I can’t have, but even I am not self-torturing and idealistic enough to consider making Maeve mine for longer than a night. No. She’s a pinup. A femme fatale. A vamp. The kind of woman you want more than any other—but only for one thing. I pity any man who ends up desiring something longer with Maeve, because he’ll never get it. If a man ever does, I’ll probably pity him even more.
I make a few stops around town, clearing up some business before it can threaten to make me late, go home to get changed, then buy some flowers and spend an hour scouring a department store for a nice gift for the kid.
My sister knows me all too well—I’m terrible with time. While I’m still browsing the aisles deciding between a teddy bear or a mobile, I check my watch, believing I’ve still got hours to go, and find that I’ve got just enough time to make it to the dinner if I leave immediately. I grab the bear like I’m rescuing it, pay for it, then jump in my car and drive there—wishing I hadn’t returned the Ferrari and left myself with just the comfortable but slow BMW.
Their place is a large apartment in a condo. It used to be Colin’s bachelor pad, and it’s a little small for a family, but Mia’s not going to buy a house unless it’s perfect, and Colin’s been busy starting up his new solo practice. I take the elevator up to their floor, still wondering what the hell Mia was hinting at on the phone.
As I make my way through the corridor to Mia’s door, I start to hear the music. A muffled burst of laughter emerges from the apartment. Sounds like more than a couple of people. I ring the doorbell.
Five seconds later Maeve opens it. Though for the past week I’ve been building her up in my mind as an ultra-sexy, perfectly beautiful, larger-than-life goddess, her hotness exceeds even my fantasies.
It’s just a tight black long-sleeved top but her angular face, short blonde hair, and incredible torso make it the sleekest thing I’ve ever seen. On her it looks like the fur of a puma prowling. Cream trouser pants hide her incredible legs, and a pair of sparkling chandelier earrings draw attention to her striking face.
“I think it’s Toby,” she calls back over her shoulder with a smile, “but it’s seven o’clock so I’m not sure.”
“Hey, Maeve,” I say, smiling as I lean in to kiss her cheek and try not to get so turned on I end up pulling her out of the apartment and far away from prying eyes. I smell her and feel the brush of her lips on my face. For a second, time seems to slow, and then I realize she’s lingering there. In a half second, I get my hopes up, start to wonder if this is a sign she’s been as unable to forget our night together as I have.
Then she whispers, “Remember: It never happened.”
She pulls back, still wearing her innocent dinner-party smile, and I nod before she turns back to join the others. I follow inside.
“I’m shocked,” Mia says, coming to greet me with a kiss. I hand her the flowers and she appreciates them for a moment. “But I appreciate you coming on time.”
Colin calls from over by the couch where he’s tending to little Alison and I make a beeline for the kid.
“There she is!” I call as I approach with the bear. “How’s my little niece doing?”
“Not another gift!” Mia says as she moves back to the kitchen. “You’ve bought her more toys than we have!”
“That’s what Uncle Toby does,” I say, making the bear dance in front of her cute, wide-eyed expression. “He brings gifts.”
Maeve comes over and hands me a beer. I look up to thank her, and our eyes linger a little too long. She clutches her wineglass a little too sensuously, stands with her hip out a little too arousingly. Or maybe it’s my imagination. Everything Maeve does is aesthetically charged—but it’s hard not to think it’s all explicitly for me now.
“How’s things?” Colin asks, but before I can answer Mia calls from the kitchen.
“Toby. Come help me.”
I shrug and hand Colin the bear, then carry my beer over to the kitchen. On the way I catch sight of a guy out on the balcony, through the large glass windows of the apartment. He’s on the phone, pacing and talking.
“Chop some cilantro for the curry,” she orders, pointing at the sprigs and chopping board. “I like it fresh.”
“I thought you said you were gonna have dinner ready by seven,” I say, as I take up the knife. “‘On schedule’ you said.”
“Yeah, well, Alison decided to have a cranky moment while I was preparing things. I suppose it’s better she had it then—she’ll probably crash out soon. Anyway, we’re still waiting for someone to arrive.”
“Who?” I say, stopping and turning to Mia, who’s stirring and jiggling a pan of curried chicken. “Jake? Colin’s friend from last time?”
“No,” Mia says, and I see her try to hide her smile. “Nobody you know. Yet.”
“Who’s the guy out on the balcony?”
“That’s Asher,” Mia says, moving past me to check something in the refrigerator. “One of Colin’s soccer buddies.”
I glance back at the balcony again and see him finish his call and come back inside. He’s noticeably good-looking. A rock star face and a rock star haircut. Stylish, too. He’s got a loose red shirt and a pair of seventies-style pants that could only work on a guy that attractive and swaggeringly confident. I watch him move back inside and join Colin and Maeve around the baby. He sits on the floor in front of the couch and smiles easily as he jokes with them. A brief, bitter surge of envy rises up in me.
Mia leans in to me as she circles behind me.
“He’s perfect, right?” she says.
I frown a little at her, thinking that it’s a strange way for Mia to describe a guy—then I realize what she meant.
“Wait a minute,” I say, leaning toward her now as she starts dressing some rice. “You invited him for Maeve?”
That mischievous smile again and she winks at me, expecting (why wouldn’t she?) that I’ll be as happy about it as she is.
“He’s a movie producer, but he’s really into fashion and design. Studied architecture. He’s quite a hot name in the business. They’re practically the mirror image of each other.”
As if to confirm her point, there’s a sudden outburst of laughter from the gathering around the baby, Maeve’s sparkling laugh and Colin’s gruff chuckle the loudest, so it’s clear Asher told the joke. Mia looks at me and raises her eyebrows as if she just won a victory. I start cutting the cilantro like it did me wrong.
Eventually my thoughts get the better of me and I blurt out something I wouldn’t if I was a man any less reckless.
“Why the hell would you try to set up Maeve with someone?”
“Shh!” Mia whispers back, glancing over to the others to check they didn’t hear, then coming closer to me.
In a lower voice I continue, “She’s the last person to be up for that. It’s not like she can’t find a guy herself. She’s just not interested in long-term stuff. You’re her best friend, you know that.” Mia looks at me intently for a second, and I realize I’ve shown a little too much interest. I smile and shrug as if I just find it all amusing and then continue to cut the cilantro—which by now is turning into mush.
“That’s enough,” Mia says, talking about the cilantro, and I set down the knife. She grabs some and starts tossing it into the curry. I grab my beer and hang around, pretending not to be as interested in what’s going on across the apartment as I am.
“We just thought they were too good of a match not to invite him,” she says. “Sure, Maeve is Maeve, but you should see her with Alison. She’s softening up a little these days. I mean, I know she meets plenty of men, and has her fun—but it’s not like she meets guys like Asher that often. It’s always playboys and lotharios. Guys with big personalities and flashy lifestyles. Guys who ‘live for the moment’ and can’t see past how sexy she is.”
I sip my beer and wonder if Mia realizes she’s basically describing me. “Asher’s different. He’s more… I dunno. Intellectual. Smart. Sweet. The kind of guy who’s about more than the next five minutes.”
I feel the urge to protest that I can be smart and sweet too, but I manage to swallow it down with another gulp of beer instead.
Then it hits me.
“Hey, hold up,” I say, as Mia gets increasingly busy, darting from one end of the kitchen to the other.
“Would you help set the table, Toby?”
“This other person we’re waiting for—”
“Use the bamboo mats—and don’t forget the chopsticks, they’re in the back of the cutlery drawer.”
“It wouldn’t happen to be a woman, would it?”
Mia glances at me as she busies herself. Again with that “I did it” smile. She shrugs, and immediately I know.
“Yeah…” she says.
“You’re setting me up too!”
“No! Toby…” she says, stopping what she’s doing to look at me, but she can’t hold it long, and immediately has to look away and smile. “Okay. I mean…not exactly.”
“Oh fuck…”
“She’s a friend of mine, and she’s really cool…”
“Come on, Mia…”
“You don’t have to marry her! We just wanted to see if you’d hit it off.”
“We were supposed to just be having a casual dinner, catch up, spend some time with the kid—”
“It will be casual.”
“Now you got a whole singles night going on!”
“We’ve invited friends over for dinner before—”
“Of all the people to set up—me and Maeve…the last people who need it. If anything I need fewer women in my life, not more…”
“You’ll like her, I promise.”
At that moment the doorbell rings and I close my eyes to sigh heavily.
“Why would you do this to me, Mia?” I say, opening my eyes.
She looks like she’s having more fun than she’s had in a long time.
“Go answer the door and find out,” she says, grabbing me and turning me around to face it. “Go on.”
She gives me a gentle shove and I head towa
rd the door, glancing over at the others as I go and noticing that they’re still so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t even seem to notice the doorbell. I get to the door feeling like a kid being forced to spend time at a dull relative’s. My hopes of spending the evening chilling out with the newest member of the family, maybe flirting a little with Maeve, now feels like work. More work than my real job. Now I get to watch some hot shot with Mick Jagger hair get his way with the woman I’ve spent a week fantasizing about, and my only consolation is…
I open the door and find all my expectations leaving through it.
“Hi,” the girl says, holding out her hand. “I’m Hazel. This is Mia’s place, right?”
She’s hot. Hair tinted a silvery purple softly falling about a tanned face with a perky nose and blood red lips. Two perfect, narrow, sleeping-cat eyes that are alive with humor and secrets. Blue jeans hug a pair of hips that conjure all kinds of dirty thoughts, and a gray crop top reveals a midriff of soft skin that makes me want to wrap my hands around it.
“It sure is.” I smile at her. I take her hand softly. “I’m Toby, Mia’s brother.”
“Oh, ha ha!” she says, laughing easily and happily. “She told me so much about you.”
“Don’t believe a word she said,” I say as she steps inside past me. Hazel laughs again and her happiness is infectious. She swaps a quick greeting with Mia and I move back to the kitchen to continue setting the table.
“Forget that. I’ll do the table,” Mia says quietly and quickly, shooing me away. “Go talk to Hazel, she only just got here. Get her a drink.”
I look back at Hazel. “What do you like to drink, Hazel?”
She pouts as she thinks about it awhile, either too nervous or too unaccustomed to dinner parties to come up with something.
“You know what,” I say, “I’ll make you a cocktail. I guarantee you’ll like it.”
“Oh, all right. Thank you!”
She laughs again and seems to find the idea more exciting than a simple drink should be. She follows me to the drink cabinet and I start mixing. Every few seconds she looks at me and laughs like she’s already having the best time of her life.
