The Tech Guy

by Fairchild, Lia

  “I guess.”

  I sat back on the seat and put my arms into position. “Like this?” I asked.

  “Yeah, make sure your lower back doesn’t leave any space between you and the machine. Here. May I?” Guy put one hand on the back of the seat, then held the other in front of my stomach, indicating that he’d need to touch me there.

  “Go head,” flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. Then Guy gently pushed on my stomach, nudging my body flush with the seat. Why does this seem so wrong? Maybe because my stomach caught fire, and then like a backdraft the flame swept up my body and to my cheeks. Since when did computer geeks have shoulders like that? Shit, I forgot about that damn water polo!

  “See, like that,” Guy said. He released me and backed away slightly. “Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable? You look a little red.”

  I reminded myself to start breathing again.

  “What? No.” Because I’m so used to hot guys putting their hands on me, right? “It’s a gym. I’m supposed to be sweating.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  To be on the safe side, I changed the subject. “So, has Nannette given you the itinerary for the trade show?”

  “Got it yesterday, but she said I should book my flight, and that she’d book our rooms,” he said.

  “I think we get a discount that way. Just make sure—” Across the room I noticed Emilia and Jayne off the treadmills, deep into a heated discussion. Jayne’s arms were flying around so much I thought she was trying to start a flash mob.

  “What’s wrong?” Guy asked.

  Before I could answer, shouting and shoving ensued. I bolted to my girls.

  “Hey. Hey!” I said, arriving on the scene. I tried to put myself in between them. “What’s going on?”

  At first they just stood there, ignoring me and glaring at each other. Emilia’s ponytail was half pulled out, Jayne’s face was beet red. Guy stepped up, as well, but stood with his hands on his hips.

  “C’mon,” I said, more commanding. “What happened? You guys were talking so politely when I left.” The two had exchanged words before, but their arguments had never gone to blows. I think Emilia was jealous of Jayne. Maybe it was my fault, since I spent less time with Emilia once I became friends with Jayne. And she didn’t expect Jayne to be tagging along on our gym time.

  “Howard’s little sissy is a snob. That’s what’s the matter,” Jayne said.

  “Did you say something to offend her, Emilia?” I asked her. Even though she was a nice girl, she did have to look down to talk to you. I wouldn’t put it past her to flat out insult Jayne behind my back.

  “Well, you got her started back on this Hank business, and I was getting sick of hearing it. All I said was that the next time she gets a boyfriend, she could be a bit more selective.”

  “Liar.” Jayne said.

  “Then what did she say, Jayne?”

  Jayne eyes fell to the ground.

  When I looked back at Emilia she glanced away. “Emilia?”

  “Fine,” Emilia said folding her arms. “I said Hank was like a gorilla with a lobotomy.”

  I heard Guy snicker behind me, but thankfully I was mature enough not to respond. Well, at least my fear was greater than my sense of humor at that moment.

  “Emilia,” I said in that disappointed, motherly tone. “Really? Would you please apologize so we can move on?”

  Emilia took a couple of steps forward. “Jayne, I’m sorry your gorilla boyfriend got a lobotomy.”

  Jayne lunged forward. “You bitch!” Obviously there were some unresolved Hank feelings still lingering in Jayne. Both Guy and I shoved our way between them. I’d never seen Jayne so worked up—over a girl, that is. She was generally more even-tempered and mellow. I think that’s why I enjoyed being around her. I pulled Jayne back, while Guy held off Emilia. So this was the kind of girl drama I missed out on in high school. I was better off with my back against the gym and my nose in a book.

  “All right, we’re out of here,” I said. Grabbing Jayne by the arm, I turned her around and escorted her toward the door. Guy released his hold on Emilia and said something to her I couldn’t hear. When I checked back, I noticed Emilia’s anger melt, then turn to a smile within seconds. As if nothing had happened, the two were huddled in a lively conversation. Did he flirt with every woman?

  Chapter 8

  My to-do list couldn’t have been any longer, and that was exactly the way I liked it. If I had five things on my list, I’d probably get two done. But give me twenty-five things? You’d have twenty-four done by the end of the day. My engine was filled with pure adrenaline when I had a deadline or other motivating factor clipping at my heels. That’s why I loved this business. Am I a workaholic? Maybe, but I’d learned a long time ago that sitting on your ass gets you nothing. Except a flat ass, that is.

  Arriving first in the office, I powered through emails, phone messages, and even gave final approval on two stories. Down time? That simply didn’t exist in magazine publishing. Once an issue of the magazine was out the front door, we all breathed a sigh of relief, but the next one was already barking at our back door like a son of a bitch. So instead of resting at a red light, it’s more like we slowed for the yellow, but then decided to floor through it.

  When Jayne came in to the office, she skipped our usual morning check-in and ducked her head on the way to her office. I was already over what happened at the gym, but decided to take advantage of the extra work time Jayne’s absence allowed me. Besides, it would do her good to reflect on her behavior. Men shouldn’t turn us into cavewomen. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.

  For about the hundredth time, I pulled up the new cover design layout and marveled at how my ideas and Mason’s designing genius came together for what I thought was the perfect representation of New You magazine. Sitting back in my chair, I savored the moment and listened to the soft rain brush against my office window. It was a light spring rain that I almost wished was a storm. It had caught me off guard since I hadn’t checked the weather report that morning.

  I’d grown to love stormy weather, although because I’d lived in southern California my whole life, I didn’t get to enjoy it often. I thanked Doug Hensley for my fascination with storms. In return for my virginity, he turned my fear of thunder and lightning into amazement and wonder. One dreary autumn night, he took my shaky hand in his as he guided me out under the purple black sky. We walked toward the storm, talking and watching the beautiful electric streaks dance across the sky. Three months later he was suspended from school for selling pot brownies, put on probation, and sent to live with his uncle. I never heard from him again. Needless to say, I don’t often wonder what might have been.

  My gaze drifted to the adjoining wall where my first “Newlywed News” column hung in a frame. Sometimes I missed the simpler days of just writing, but I was thankful for the few stories I still wrote myself. Thoughts of my mother came to mind, and I took hold of the only connection I had to her. She had loved to write, as well—mostly poetry and short stories. I pictured the image that lived in my wallet. It showed a beautiful young woman sitting on a blanket on the grass. She wore pajamas, and her legs were crossed. One hand held back the hair that swept in the wind. Sunlight made her sandy-colored hair appear even lighter as she gazed toward the trees in our backyard, looking for inspiration. You can barely see the corner of a notepad in her lap.

  That’s how I remembered my mother. I’ve stared at that picture so many times, it felt like I was there. In a way, I was. She was about ten weeks pregnant and, according to my Pop, she would recite her poetry to me spontaneously whenever the mood hit her. That carefree, love-child aura was in such contrast to my own calculated and controlling ways, it saddened me that I wasn’t more like her. Maybe calculating was too harsh a word, but I didn’t do anything without thorough analysis first. I wondered if that would still be the case if she were here today.

  Sorting out my feelings in regards to my parents had been challenging, to
say the least. Putting on a brave face worked most of the time, but I hated myself for missing my mother more than my father. Howard said that was probably normal for any girl. Maybe it was because Mom left me so quickly, at such a young age. But Dad could have handled it better. He could have had more time with me if he’d wanted. But instead of trying to become the ultimate father to compensate me for losing my mother, he’d turned his back on the pain of reality. I was lucky that as Dad started to fade out of my life, Pop gradually took over. He was as good a father as anyone. He tried hard to make our life seem normal. But it’s not like a girl ever stops needing her mother.

  It wasn’t unusual for me to go from elated to deflated in a matter of seconds. I guess memorable moments, like realizing a professional dream, lead to memories, which lead to my lack thereof, and the fact that my options for sharing news with loved ones were quite limited.

  A reminder dinged and popped up on my screen, so I shook off the pity party for one and got back to my computer. At that point we hadn’t shared the new cover with the rest of the office, but I was dying to show it to Jayne. I resisted the urge, but I started to wonder if she was ever going to show her face. It wasn’t like her to pout for this long. In fact, it was more likely that she would have been waiting at my door with an apology.

  All the work I’d done over the last few hours had sailed me right up to lunchtime, so I got up to see what Jayne was up to. When I entered her office, she turned to me with a red face and brows that were knotted together.

  “God, are you still upset about yesterday?” I asked, standing in the doorway.

  She shook her head. “No, honey. But I am really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to cause a problem with you and your … best friend.”

  I stepped inside and walked over to her chair. “Hey, Jaynie girl. You’re my best friend too.” I meant it, but flinched at how high school that sounded. “Don’t you know that?”

  “I guess so,” she answered.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “It’s gone.” She shrugged her shoulders and stared at the screensaver on her computer. No, it wasn’t a beach scene or cute puppies frolicking. Four young hotties in work overalls, minus the top half which hung down past their waists, stood carrying tools and smiles. Those tight rippling pecks have to be airbrushed.

  “What’s gone?” I asked after my moment of distraction subsided.

  “My file. I worked on it for three hours. Did tons of research on it, too.” She looked up at me helplessly. “Bill wanted it, like, yesterday. I’ve tried everything.” She flopped down against the back of her chair and stared up at me with needy eyes. Unfortunately, Jayne didn’t have the same effect on Bill that I did. She found herself on the other end of his fury more than once.

  “Don’t panic yet,” I said. I put on my determined, problem-solving face. “Let me take a look.”

  We exchanged positions and I took her seat at the computer. As I began my own troubleshooting techniques, I asked, “Did you try Guy?”

  “He’s not in the office today and Matthew is too busy.”

  “All right, it’s okay. Let’s see … maybe ….” After a few more attempts I let out a frustrated sigh and shrugged. “Sorry, Jaynie.” Then I remembered what Guy had showed me on the server, only that was for emails. And it had been difficult to pay attention to what I was doing with him hovering over my shoulder. But there was one more option. “What about Marty?”

  “I don’t know.” Jayne shook her head, then rubbed the side of her temples. “Since when has Marty ever done anything right?”

  “I know, but he’s here today. And I don’t suppose the file can get any more lost, right?” I asked.

  “I guess. Let’s get his sorry ass in here.”

  I buzzed a couple of the offices where our freelancers hibernated until Marty picked up. I explained the situation in a needy tone that made me cringe and asked him to come to Jayne’s office. Then as though we’d beamed him up on the Enterprise, he materialized. Being replaced by Guy was probably hard to take even if he was relieved of the burden. Men need to feel needed. He stood in the doorway sporting his brown corduroy pants that scuffed the carpet as he walked and a cream-colored, button-down shirt. Tucked in with a belt, of course. Everything about him screamed old school. His hair, brown and bushy, wouldn’t behave if you paid it. The matching rug on his upper lip most certainly housed coffee residue with cinnamon specks from his morning donut.

  “Thanks, Marty,” Jayne said.

  I rose from Jayne’s seat. We both backed away, giving Marty room to get behind the desk.

  “No problem,” Marty said. He pushed his brown-rimmed glasses farther up on his nose as he sat down. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  As Marty tapped away at the keyboard, I peered over Jayne’s shoulder to see that she was sending a text to Guy. Guess she had as much faith in Marty as I did. But what other choice did we have but to give him a chance? And though I did have a way of taming the beast, I wasn’t up for facing Bill, either. He’d made it crystal clear that there were plenty of freelancers out there who could do our jobs without requiring him to pay benefits. Well, maybe not all of us.

  “I really appreciate this, Marty,” Jayne said, then snarled her lip at me.

  Jayne and I sneaked out to the lounge to get coffee, telling Marty we’d give him some peace to work.

  “Okey-dokey,” he said. Not the first time we’ve heard that corny catchphrase. But it was one of many in his repertoire.

  In the lounge Jayne and I stuffed our faces with mini-cheesecakes left over from a potluck lunch we’d had a week ago.

  “Do you think these are still good?” I asked Jayne. Then I popped one in my mouth.

  “Tastes fine to me,” she said, shrugging off a guilty smile.

  Women didn’t pass up desserts in an office. It was the one place where calories didn’t count. Besides, we ordered salads to be delivered for lunch to make up for it.

  “You know, if Marty pulls this off, we’re going to have to be nicer to him,” Jayne said.

  “What?” Suddenly I worried that those cheesecake bites were bad after all. They were affecting Jayne’s judgment.

  “He’s not that bad,” she said, sounding like she was trying to convince us both.

  “I guess.” He was harmless enough, but sometimes he did give me the creeps. For the most part, he was quiet and shy. But there were times I wondered if he had bodies hidden in his basement. Isn’t it always the quiet ones?

  Jayne took a plastic knife and cut the last mini-cheesecake in half, assuming I’d want it. I almost wished she would have jammed the thing in her mouth and saved me the guilt.

  “This would really save my ass,” she said.

  “I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Right. So if Marty restores my file, let’s really play it up, huh?”

  My face scrunched up at the suggestion. “Play what up?”

  “You know, make a big deal about it and thank him a bunch. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  My stomach twisted at the thought of it. Or maybe salmonella had already set in. I was beginning to wonder if Jayne had another fetish I hadn’t discovered yet. She was a little too excited about this role-playing idea. “Fun for him, yeah.”

  Her half of the mini-cheesecake disappeared behind a smile, and she shoved mine in front of me. “Eat up!”

  A few minutes later, Marty appeared in the doorway. “I think I may have it, ladies,” he said, brimming with excitement and pride. A quick head jerk to the side summoned us to follow him. “I need you to take a look, though, Jayne.”

  We trailed our potential new hero back to Jayne’s office. I wondered for a moment if a salad was going to cut it after all of this excitement.

  Jayne got back in the driver’s seat with captain Marty at the helm beside her. “Is that it?” he asked hopefully.

  “I’m not sure.” Jayne scrolled through the text, stopping in places until she reached the end. “I think … yep. This is it!
You did it, Marty!”

  “Wow, nice work, Marty!” I patted him on the back, took a deep breath, and revealed my biggest smile. Since he’d never seen it before, I was sure it would make his day.

  Jayne jumped up and gave him a warm hug, winking at me over his shoulder. We’d done our good deed for the day and were feeling pretty proud of ourselves, when Marty bolted for the door.

  “What’s the hurry, man?” I asked. You’d think he’d want to revel in his glory for at least a few more minutes.

  He stopped in the doorway, turned on his heel and said, “I can’t wait to call Guy and tell him the good news.” Then he was off, speed walking down the hall with his frayed corduroy pants dragging along the carpet.

  “Can you believe that, Emma?”

  I shook my head in suspended disbelief. “No, I can’t,” I said matter-of-factly. It was bad enough Jayne and the other women dropped at Guy’s feet. Now I had man crushes to deal with too?

  “C’mon, Jaynie girl. Let’s go see if our salads are here.”

  Chapter 9

  “It’s not a date,” Pop said. He stared out the window as we backed out of the driveway and headed a block over to pick up Mrs. Elwood.

  I glanced to the side to see him dry-washing his hands in his lap. “Don’t be nervous, Pop.”

  “I’m not nervous,” he snapped. “For crying out loud, Emma Jean. We’re just taking her to a doctor’s appointment.”

  “Yeah, and it was nice of you to offer my services,” I said.

  “You know I would have done it.” His hands checked the buttons on his shirt.

  “I know.” Pop was losing sight in his right eye and wasn’t allowed to renew his driver’s license. He didn’t spend too much time behind the wheel anyway, but my heart still ached a bit for how he must have been feeling. I can still remember when our seats were reversed, and he was teaching me to drive. “Offensive, yes. Mario Andretti, no,” he’d said before pulling over and giving me my shot. He’d held his tongue when I ground the gears and rolled over the trashcan when we got back home. I had shrugged a sorry to which he’d replied, “You’re learning, Emma Jean. And at least it wasn’t the neighbor’s cat.”