by Kara Hart
Laughter echoes across the first floor. I step into an open elevator and lean against the wall, looking out through the glass as we rise over the city. There are two other women here, some staffers I can’t remember the names of. As soon as they see Rowdy, their hearts melt, and my moment of peace is over.
I recognize the tall blonde to my right. Brian once tried to date her. It ended with him groveling. Ten voicemails later, she told him to F-off.
“Oh, my gosh,” she coos. “He is so stinkin’ cute. When did you get him?”
“The dog’s not mine,” I say.
The other woman is a shorter brunette. I’ve never seen her in my life. “What a good boy,” she says, bending to pet the back of Rowdy’s head.
“Does he do any tricks?” Blonde asks.
Yeah. If he’s hungry enough, he can make your whole hand disappear.
I glance at the women in the elevator. “Like I said, he’s not mine.”
Disappointed faces. I’m used to seeing them around here.
The bell above rings as I reach my floor. When the door opens, I see Brian sitting in his office, throwing a tennis ball at the wall. However, Sandra is like a hawk. She swoops in my direct line, ready to intercept me with more work than I care to do on a holiday.
All I want to do is sit and think about Ali. If I can’t do that, then I want to talk about her to everyone in the room. It’s weird and maybe a little pathetic, but I can’t change how I feel.
“You’re late,” she says.
I keep walking, eyes on Brian’s office. “Oh, yeah?”
Her eyes drop to Rowdy. “Another dog?”
How many times am I going to have to tell people? “It’s not my dog.”
“You know, women won’t sleep with you just because you have a dog,” she says.
Repeat after me. “It’s not my dog.”
She’s keeps up with me. “You have voicemails,” she says.
I’m so close to Brian’s office. “That’s nice,” I say.
Gaining ground, Brian looks up and waves. Rowdy does the exact opposite. Finding something delicious smelling on the floor, he digs his nose into the carpet and starts to paw.
Panting, Sandra grabs the back of my jacket. “You know, you should bring your dog more often. It really gives us a chance to go over the important stuff.”
“Let me guess. Jim called. He wants to make sure the big unveiling is still on,” I say.
She’s not impressed by my forecasting skills. “Is the model coming or not, Marc?”
I hear another door shut behind me. Cocking my head, I see Brian. A camera hangs around his neck. His hands are fastened to his hips.
“Where have you been? It’s been a full week since I’ve had any work,” Brian says.
It’s a full on assault.
My heart starts to pound. “Ali wants to come to the unveiling, yeah.”
Sandra looks at me like I just sprouted an extra head. “And this is a problem, why?”
With my two confidants surrounding me, I make my way through the hall until I get to my office. “I didn’t say it was a problem. Did I?”
It’s a problem. A big problem.
“You’re acting weird again,” Sandra says.
“What else is new?” Brian responds.
I meander around the chairs and sit in my own little office throne. Leaning back, I breathe in the stale office air and imagine I’m smelling Ali’s perfume while I touch her waist and hold her thighs for dear life.
“We need to talk party details,” Sandra says.
Maybe I’ll make a mood board of all the things I’d like to do to Ali instead.
Unable to read my thoughts, Sandra continues. “I’ve got a big shipment of balloons, confetti, streamers, sprinkles, sprinklers, sprinklers that sprinkle sprinkles...”
Sandra goes on and on, but I’m not listening to a word of it. She’s been in charge of handling nearly everything for the last six years. I trust her. There’s no way she’s going to do this poorly. Problem is, I don’t want to go. I think I understand Sammy now.
Sandra claps, startling me. “C’mon, Marc. Wake up. Are you even listening?”
“The most beautiful legs,” I whisper, dreaming of Ali’s smooth calves and taut skin.
Sandra snaps in front of my face and addresses Brian when I don’t respond. “He’s practically catatonic.”
“He’s certifiable,” Brian says. “Send him to the institution.”
I’ve got hearts in my eyes, wings on my back, and a stack of love quivers to shoot with my bow. “I’m fine,” I say.
I’m not fine. I’m fucked. Ali wants to go to the party, but it’s a bad idea. Jim will only hound her to death. Worst of all, she’ll find out I intended on using her for the five-page spread. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if she was my wife. But she’s someone I just started seeing. I’ve got a feeling she’s going to flip.
Brian places the back of his hand against my forehead. “Temperature is elevated. He’s in love,” he says.
“Or he’s sick,” Sandra says. “That would explain his poor decision making.”
They’re both standing over me, looking down at me like I’m some mental patient. I stand and break up their little council. “I’m not insane, and I’m not sick,” I announce.
Hearie, hearie.
I continue. “I am just a little freaked out,” I admit. “And I’d rather not have to entertain a party of over eight hundred guests. It feels like Christmas just happened.”
Rowdy barks so loud everyone in the office turns to look at the window. I wave and give an awkward smile.
Sandra leans on one heel. “You cannot skip out on this. Not this time,” she says.
“Why not?”
“Jim isn’t concerned about the magazine. He’s concerned about the entire company,” she says. “Sales are down. Not to mention, an economic downturn is coming, and we’ve done nothing to prepare for it. You need to make this right, or everyone in this building is shit out of luck.”
Bullshit. Sales are down this quarter. They’ll be up the next. People still need to be entertained in a recession, and our magazines fulfill that need. At any rate, this doesn’t even matter. I have all the money I’ll ever need. Staying in Jim’s good eyes is important, but it also feels like a vanity project.
I take a deep breath and ask her what I’ve wanted to ask everyone here for so long. “What is the point?”
Her lips hover her open mouth. “You’re asking me what the point of keeping a three billion dollar publication company solvent is,” she says, dumbfounded.
I straighten my back and crack my neck, leaning into my stupid question. “Who cares,” I mouth.
Maybe I should’ve went to school with Sammy, after all. I’m misbehaving and need a timeout.
Sandra throws up her hands before stampeding toward the door. “I’m done,” she says.
I lean against the wall and give my best puppy-dog eyes. That usually does the trick, though none of my superpowers seem to be working today. “Sandra...”
She holds it open, waving Brian and I out. “Seriously,” she says, pointing directly at the center of my forehead. “If you don’t help me get this thing set up today, I’m done. I’ll quit.”
She’s even mad at Brian. “Same to you, you weasel,” she growls.
“Hey, what did I do?” he asks.
“You’re friends with this moron,” she growls. “Now, here’s a list of last minute items that I desperately need you to grab at the store.”
I’m an errands boy now. Awesome.
Without wanting to anger her, I clear my face and turn serious. These people depend on me. If I can’t do this for myself, I’ll do it for my staff.
“I’ll get it done,” I say.
She shakes her head. “The shit I put up with around here.”
I nudge Rowdy forward with my boot. “Don’t forget to say bye to Rowdy,” I say.
Sandra bends to scratch Rowdy’s massive chin before leaving
. “He’s such a good boy,” Sandra says. “Better than the one you bought your daughter.”
Brian and I exit the room, headed to the elevator. Everyone is looking at us. I wonder how much they heard.
I frown. “Have a good day, Sandra.”
As the elevator door closes, the last thing I see are her eyes rolling in the back of her head. She has a good reason to be mad at me. All of my motivation has been sucked out of me.
I can feel Brian’s eyes weighing on me. “Shamed,” he says.
“Come again?”
“We were shamed,” he repeats.
I shrug. He squeezes my shoulder and pats me hard enough to push me against the glass wall. “What was that for?” I ask.
Leaning forward, he presses a button. The elevator stops, loudly screeching and moving inches in both directions.
“Sandra’s right, man. You’re not acting like yourself. So, let’s talk.”
“I’ll pay you to forget about this,” I say.
He shakes his head. “No can do.”
I look out at the vast expanse of Seattle. Mount Ranier sits in the distance, laughing in my face. I feel myself lower against the glass barrier, sighing. “I’m so screwed.”
He leans against the other side, a bit too smug for his own good. “We tried to warn you.”
“You told me you’d help me. Some help you were,” I mutter.
“I’ve still got time,” he says. “I might have to save your ass tomorrow.”
“What’s your grand plan?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer because there is no grand plan. In most cases, I was the idea maker. I’m not relying on Brian to get me out of a bind.
After a few seconds of hanging in silence, he slumps down and sits with me. We’re two thirty-five year old guys, pathetically groveling into their forties. It’s not the best sight in the world, but you have to admire our tenacity.
“I’m sorry, bro,” he says. “This shit… this shit’s hard. You were there when Karen tore my heart out.”
Karen, his ex-girlfriend. They were together for nine years.
“We broke up a week before our tenth anniversary.” He laughs, a little angry. A little embarrassed. “Shit is really hard sometimes.”
With the stress of tomorrow’s party coming to a climax, I rub my palms across my face and groan. “I should have told her,” I mutter. “Why’d I lie?”
“Because you’re an idiot. All of us guys are idiots,” he says.
“Does it get any better?”
He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “But there comes a time when all idiots learn how to act with grace.”
I laugh. “I’m just going to have to suck it up and bring that grace to the table tomorrow, aren’t I?”
Standing, he hits the button to get the elevator moving again. Then, he offers a hand. “You don’t have anything better planned?”
As the elevator reaches the lobby, I pull two tickets out of my jacket pocket. “I may be a certifiably insane idiot, but it’s Valentine’s Day, and I do still know how to show a lady a good time.”
The golden doors open, and Brian tries to snatch the tickets from my hand. I pull them back just in time. “What are they?”
“Swan Lake,” I say.
“Movie was decent,” he says.
“That’s Black Swan,” I correct him.
“What’s the difference?”
I step out into the lobby, headed for the front doors. “Look, the story doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s going to the ballet with me, and we have the best seats in the house.”
Rowdy’s excited to be outside. His tail is slapping the doormat.
“See? You didn’t need my help, after all,” he says.
“Yeah. I’ll take a rain check, though.”
“I got you, bro,” he says. “Got anything else planned for the evening?”
“I thought I could take her over to Candy Cane Lane,” I say. It’s a fun motel couples use for sex. It’s a little forward, but I’ve opened up to Ali. There’s no other barriers to burn down. I want her so fucking bad.
He nods, smiling. “A jaunt in the city of Seattle filled with romance, sophistication, and… shit, I’m having trouble thinking of a third word.”
“Romance?”
He claps his hands and skips forward. “More romance!”
Without Sandra bossing me around, I can think a little clearer. The air is smoggy, but that even feels cleaner than pacing around my office all day. I look up at my window and groan.
I begin to walk with Rowdy and Brian to a busy intersection. Hailing a cab, I wait with them as the driver argues with another guy, presumably about a fare.
As we wait, I anxiously look back at the building one last time. I’ve got a new idea. I’m going to do everything I can to distract her attention away from the party. No matter what.
We are not going.
Now that I’m out of the office and I’ve dealt with Sandra, I’m going to finally give Brian a job. Then, I’m going to get the Hell out of here.
As he gets into the cab, I lean into the door and hand him the list of party supplies to buy. “Well, thanks for the talk. I look forward to your help,” I say, tapping the top of the car three times.
He tries to break out of the cab, but I shut the door on him. I watch him roll the window down with sad, puppy-dog eyes. “You’re leaving?”
“You said you needed extra work,” I say. “Well, I need to get ready for my date.”
“You bastard,” he mutters.
I chuckle and signal to the driver to take off. “I’ll see you at the party, Brian.”
Ali
I replay the last twenty-four hours over and over in my head, coming up with more and more reasons not to check my phone. Of course, when I do, the first words on the screen say:
I miss you.
But you need to stop staring at your phone during class.
P.S. After you take Sammy home, head over to Westlake Center. On the way home, pick up something nice to wear at Saks fifth Avenue. Send me the bill. My treat.
My throat tightens, and my pulse sends a rush of happiness through my heart. Something nice? I haven’t bought anything nice in years. Just being honest – I’m not sure I even have any savings in my bank account.
Going against his advice, I check my account. I’ve got five hundred dollars. My credit has a line for three hundred. I think it should be enough, and then he’ll pay me back.
Then again, that puts me in a little bind. I don’t want to lean on him for money, even if he has it readily available. He still hasn’t paid me for driving miss Sammy.
Amanda’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Everything cool, girl?”
For Valentine’s Day, Dean Berman decided it would be more fun to combine classes and move everyone into the gym. It’s a big event where the kids can run around and have fun. For them, it’s a day off. We’re tasked to maintain an impossibly healthy balance of sugar levels. It’s total chaos.
I was most concerned about Sammy. Just as Marc tried to warn me, she turned on me halfway through the day. Something triggered her, sending her into a crying fit of emotion. Amanda and I tried everything. But after her tears dried up, she refused to acknowledge us.
That’s when I sent her outside. Five minute timeout. No ifs ands or buts.
Most kids cry. Some even take a swing at you. But when Sammy looked at me, it was with eyes of betrayal. Guess who was waiting to see if she was okay? Xander.
More and more, I’m starting to see that Sammy is the troublemaker. If that’s true, I’ll have to bring it up to Marc. He’s going to be so hurt.
The ancient school projector shines cartoons on the wall. Charlie Brown tries kicking the football, only for Lucy to pull it out from under him. No one is watching this crap. I should just be honest; I’m not even watching it. They didn’t have a copy of The Sandlot.
I fake a yawn. “I’m just a little tired of watching Charlie biff it so many times.”
> For the tenth time this hour, I check my phone. Sammy’s five minutes are almost over. Ten minutes until we’re out of school.
She doesn’t look too impressed with my lie. “What’s with your phone? You’re not usually so tech-centric.”
I don’t even try to cover my ass. “It’s Marc,” I say.
“Talk.”
Excited about a possible date night, I smile. “I got a text telling me to go to Saks Fifth Avenue and buy a dress. He instructed me to pick out the one that speaks to my heart most.”
She’s looking at me like I’m Charlie Brown.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re going to buy the most expensive dress they have, right?”
I’m a little taken back. “I wasn’t really thinking about it,” I say.
“A guy tells you to buy a dress for him, and you’re not fantasizing about a McQueen?”
“Mc-what?”
Suddenly, I’m thinking fast food.
She huffs. “Never mind. Look, what you need to do is go inside, head straight for the nearest sales associate, and then you tell them you’re looking for a Mattox.”
“I thought you said I was looking for a Mc-whatever.”
“Alexander McQueen,” she says. “But if they don’t have that, get an Aidan Mattox.”
I should be writing this down. Fashion isn’t my strong suit. Most of the time, I’m a t-shirt and skirt kind of woman.
When the bell rings, I feel my stomach jolt. I’ve got strict orders from Dean Berman to stay and clean up. However, Amanda isn’t allowing me to help out. She’s pushing me toward the doors on two heavy feet, telling me to have the time of my life.
“Don’t forget to wear a rubber!” she exclaims.
“Bye, Amanda,” I growl.
Turning away from the closing doors, I feel a light tap against my thigh. I look down. Sammy’s tears have dried, and she looks considerably better than an hour ago. Still, as much as I want to try out this new giddy feeling all the way to Saks, she’s going through a lot, and I need to be there for her.
“Are we still friends?” she asks.
I take her hand. “I’ll always be your friend, Sammy. You don’t have to worry about that.”
