by AC Netzel
“Umm…tapas.”
“There’s a take out tapas place? I didn’t know that. Where is it?”
“Not exactly,” I squeak.
“What exactly?”
“I went to the Sunshine Deli to pick up a sandwich to bring home. And that Wisteria Hill leech, Jake, was on the prowl. I had already told him that I had dinner plans, but he caught me in my lie when he saw me about to order a sandwich. Ben came in and saved the day, pretending we had plans. It got Jake off my back and Ben and I ended up having dinner together at Emilio’s.”
“Ben?” A frown creases on her forehead.
“Mr. Khaki Shorts.”
“Oh, he has a name. You had dinner with Mr. Khaki Shorts again?”
“Yes, he invited me. We were supposed to talk more about his book.”
“Supposed to?”
“Well, we never talked business; it was mostly talk about our families.”
“So this Ben, you like him?”
“He’s okay.” I fail miserably at hiding my smile.
“I know that smile. You like him.”
“Yes, he’s nice.” I do my best to downplay our night out.
“No, I mean you like him, like him. I can tell.” She nods vigorously with a big grin.
“Like him, like him? What are we twelve years old? He saw me home. That was it. End of story.”
“He took you back here? Did you invite him in?”
“No.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“No. Well, he kissed the back of my hand. It was very sweet.”
“I bet. You know, there’s nothing wrong with liking a guy Jules, especially a guy that good looking. And you said he was nice, that’s a good combination. Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know. I suppose at work.” I shrug.
“I meant are you going to see him again, you know, another date.”
“First of all, it was not a date. It was two people having dinner together. Secondly, you know I have no interest in dating. I’m not going back down that road. And after speaking with Ben, he made it clear that he feels the same way about dating as I do.”
“You’ve discussed dating?”
“Yes…well not dating each other. In general terms.”
“Julia, unless you intend on joining a convent, may I suggest you rethink your position. That guy is hot. I mean, aren’t you a little curious?”
A little curious? It’s all I’ve thought about since he left.
“I’m not going to deny that I think he’s attractive and I enjoyed talking to him, but I want to focus on my career. I don’t need all the baggage that comes with a relationship to screw it up.”
“Even career women have sex lives. Anyway, who said anything about a relationship? Just go out, have some fun. You don’t have to live like a celibate nun to be a success. There’s nothing wrong with a fling, if that’s what you want.”
“A fling? That’s just not me.”
“Look, I only want you to be happy. Don’t let that dickweed ex asshole’s bad behavior ruin your future happiness. Not every guy is a prick who’s going to break your heart. Stop being afraid. Someday you need to stop thinking and live in the moment, see where it takes you.”
“I’m not ready. Someday, maybe.”
“Okay. At least there’s hope in someday. I’m peeling myself out of these clothes and going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Allie.”
“Good night, Sister Julia. I’ll pray you get laid soon.”
I shake my head and laugh. I know Allie’s heart is always in the right place.
~o0o~
It’s been two days since my dinner with Ben. I haven’t heard a peep from him. I don’t know why I thought I would. It’s not like it was a date. I guess a part of me was hoping. Fortunately, work has been keeping me very busy.
I’ve joked with Vivian that she’s become a real task master, pushing manuscript after manuscript my way. She knows I’m kidding. I adore it. I love my work. And it keeps my mind from wandering back to a certain author.
“I think I’m done for the day unless there’s anything else you need,” I say as I poke my head in Vivian’s office.
“Just one thing before you go. Ben Martin is having his head shots done for his book sleeve and promotional items. He’s booked at Marcello Gilbert’s Studio. His appointment is at six o’clock tonight. Marcello squeezed him in as a favor to us. Can you send an email to Marcello? Tell him I want a copy of the proofs emailed to me, along with a copy to the art department.”
Marcello’s studio is in the Village. We’ve developed a close friendship over the past two years and hang out with each other after work when we can. I could always poke my head in and deliver Vivian’s request straight to Marcello. This way I know he gets the message. It’s a Friday night and I have no plans. Allie is staying over at her latest conquest’s apartment for the night. This will give me something to do and I’m helping Vivian.
Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I know exactly why I want to pass by that studio.
“Vivian. Um...Marcello and I had plans after work,” I lie. “I was going straight to his studio anyway. I’ll tell him in person.”
She stops looking at her computer screen, pushes her glasses up over her eyes to the top of her head and leans back in her chair with an amused expression. “Do you now? Well, that’s convenient,” she says with a chuckle. “Very well. Tell Marcello when you see him.”
We exchange a knowing look; I can feel the heat from my face turning it bright red. She knows I’m lying, but she’s letting it slide. I guess our subtle flirting in front of her desk wasn’t so subtle after all.
“Great. Have a good night Vivian. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Good night, Julia,” she says, steepling her fingers over her lips, hiding her amused smile.
My heart is racing. I’m going to see him again. Once I’m out of Vivian’s view, I make a mad dash out of the office and go straight to the bathroom. My tiny compact mirror will not do. I need a serious mirror. I lean over the bathroom sink and stare at my reflection. I’ve had a pencil holding up my hair in a messy bun most of the day. Yes, I’m the epitome of class. That’s fine when it’s just me and Vivian, but this will not work when seeing Ben. I pull the pencil out of my hair and unravel it. It’s wavy and a little wild. I smooth it out with my fingers because I’m an ass who doesn’t carry a brush or a comb. There is no way I’m going to ask to borrow someone else’s…not after the great lice invasion at Public School 12 in the fourth grade.
I rummage through my handbag to see what else I have. Some clear lip gloss. Good. I pucker my lips and apply it. I find old eyeliner hidden in some crumbled up department store receipts I threw in my bag. There’s barely a tip, but enough to make it work. The compact to my blush opened and the remnants of it are all over the bottom of my bag. Shit. Well, it’s cold outside. That’ll pink up my cheeks and probably turn my nose red and runny too.
I smooth out my pencil skirt and tuck my cotton button down blouse, assuring it’s not bunched up and wrinkled, quickly throwing on my coat and head out the bathroom door. I come to a quick halt and walk back to the mirror. I smile the toothiest smile I can possibly muster. Good, no evidence of today’s lunch lodged in my teeth. Now I truly am ready to go.
I’m standing on the subway train, holding on to the steel bar above me, trying to keep myself balanced without falling into one of the dozen other complete strangers doing the same thing. This is crazy. Why am I doing this? The conscious part of me tells me that it’s work and I have to do it, but I know from the pre-Ben primping that it has nothing to do with work. I’m driven by my attraction to a man I have no intention of being with. This is crazy. No, it’s me. I’m crazy.
Once again, I remind myself; I don’t want a man.
I arrive at Marcello’s photography studio. Marietta at the front desk directs me to the room where Marcello is shooting Ben’s photos. I’m a bundle of
nerves as my hand touches the doorknob. I inhale a deep breath and quietly open the door.
There he is, looking so relaxed, seated on a low barstool with bright lights and giant reflectors surrounding him. Marcello is busy clicking away.
Our eyes briefly meet and he smiles at me. My knees practically buckle. I smile shyly back and lean up against a wall in the corner of the room, nervously biting my thumb nail, watching them.
There is something about Ben Martin that does things to me like no one else, not even Mikehole.
Marcello looks over toward me and stops clicking, holding up his index finger to Ben, indicating he needs a minute. “Julia, you look beautiful. I like your hair like this, very wild. You look very seductive. Are you finally going to model for me?” Marcello jokes.
I laugh. Marcello has teased me about modeling for him in the nude for the past year. I’d think it was just a sleazy come on to get me into bed if I didn’t know his boyfriend Peter so well.
“Sorry Marcello. Keeping the clothes on. I’m just here to check out the shoot for Ben’s back cover and promo items. Oh, Vivian wants the proofs emailed to her and the art department.”
“Okay, I’ll send them when they’re ready.” His eyes dart over to Ben then back to me. “You know, if it weren’t for Peter, I’d be all over our author friend over there like white on rice. I mean, look at him. He’s perfection. I doubt I’ll have any retouching to do on the photographs. You think he’d do nudes?” he whispers.
I wish.
“You better watch yourself Marcello. Peter hears everything, even when he’s not here.”
“You’re not kidding. My man probably has this place bugged.”
While I’m talking to Marcello, I notice a familiar looking brunette chatting with Ben. Oh yes, the Cheese Shop chatterbox. What did he say her name was...Carmen? No…it was Camille. She’s practically attached herself to his side. She’s wearing a ridiculously short gray knit dress and black leather thigh high boots with five-inch heels. You can tell she spent a fortune on this outfit. Despite the fact that she dresses like a high priced call girl, she reeks of money. I spot her Louis Vuitton bag in the corner where she was standing. Just looking at her, you know that bag is the real deal and not a knock off, like the one I have slung over my shoulder, purchased from one of the sidewalk vendors on Fifth Avenue.
While they’re talking, I catch Ben sneaking glances my way. I can tell by the sour look on her face that she catches it too. She’s not happy. The girl clearly does not like me and hasn’t even met me. What is Ben doing with a girl like this? He said he doesn’t have a girlfriend; maybe this is one of those “casual relationships” he was talking about.
The thought saddens me. He’s unofficially taken…I guess. I’m not sure how girl code works in a casual relationship situation. I’ll have to research that on Wiki later.
Marcello goes back to the business at hand, having Ben stand, sit, look this way, look that way. Ben is a pretty good sport about it. Many of our authors give Marcello a hard time about having their picture taken over and over again. I know it’s boring and time consuming, but you can’t have a cover without the photo. These days, authoring a book is so much more than simply writing it.
I walk back to the corner of the room, leaning on the wall. I cross my arms with one eye on Ben and the other on the brooding brunette. She’s doing the same.
Bitchy girl games…always fun after a long day at work.
When Marcello finishes, Ben jumps off the barstool and walks over to me. His lapdog friend quickly sidles herself next to him, possessively grabbing hold of his arm.
I’m secretly rolling my eyes. I get it…You want me to think he’s yours. Funny thing is he doesn’t seem to be the slightest bit interested in you.
“Julia, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ben says, smiling cordially.
“Vivian asked me to pass by and check out the shoot since it was on my way home. And Marcello is a friend of mine. I visit him when I can.” I’m also a big fan of lusting after you.
The brunette not so subtly clears her throat. Relax honey, you’ll get your turn.
“Oh, Julia. This is my friend Camille. Camille, this is Julia. Julia is one of the editors of my book.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she lies.
Camille? More like Cam-eel. The slimy way she slithered up next to Ben in her snakelike fashion, moving side to side going after her prey. I know immediately that she hates me. I can tell. She’s a woman hater. It’s written all over her face. I remember reading somewhere that Moray eels are one of the main predators of other Moray eels. Yes, this girl would definitely take down another woman; especially one she thinks is on the hunt for the man she just attached herself to.
“Camille, it’s very nice to meet you too,” I lie right back. I turn my face away from her and look at Ben. “Well, it looks like everything here is under control. I guess I’ll be going. Good to see you Ben. Camille.” I nod and walk over to Marcello who’s moving the studio lights back to the corner of the room.
“Hey Marcello. I’m going to take off. Don’t forget to email the photos when they’re ready.”
“Will do, Julia.” He glances over at Ben and Cam-eel. “She’s pathetic, isn’t she? So clingy. It’s obvious he has no interest in her at all,” he whispers.
See…that’s what I thought too!
“I don’t know Marcello. It’s none of my business. Give my love to Peter. You both should drop by the apartment sometime. Allie would love to see you.”
“Maybe Allie will pose for me?” He raises a brow.
“Is there even a doubt?” We both laugh.
Marcello kisses my cheek and I turn to leave, taking one last quick peek at Ben.
“Julia, can you wait a minute?” Ben calls out. He whispers something to Cam-eel. She smiles and nods, but I can tell that smile is as fake as most of the breasts in Hollywood. He politely hugs her and kisses her cheek. Her lips are pressed tight as she grabs her Louis Vuitton handbag off the floor. The room echoes with the clicks of her high heels against the wooden floorboards as she walks right past me, barely acknowledging my existence.
Friendly girl. I hope she trips.
Ben walks over to me and smiles. “Can I walk you home?”
“Ah, I guess so. Sure.”
“Okay, I’ll grab my jacket and we’ll go.” He walks across the room, leaving me alone with Marcello. Marcello looks at me with a sly grin, gently nudging me with his shoulder. I shrug, wide eyed.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. I want details tomorrow,” Marcello whispers in my ear.
“Oh, shut up.” I playfully punch his arm but I can’t hide my smile.
Ben walks back with his black leather jacket on, looking hot as usual. “Ready to go?” he asks.
“Yes. I’ll talk to you soon Marcello,” I say as I give him a quick hug goodbye.
“Sooner than you think, Julia,” he teases.
“Marcello, thanks for everything,” Ben says while shaking his hand.
“It was my pleasure, Ben. Take good care of my girl. Julia is one in a million.”
“Yes, she is.” He looks at me and smiles.
He holds the door open for me and we leave the studio. The cold air hits you immediately. Normally, I’d bitch and moan about the temperature, but having Ben so close to me makes it tolerable. I shove my hands in my coat pockets and stare straight ahead, occasionally stealing a quick glimpse of Ben.
“I had a nice time the other night,” he says.
“I did too. Thank you again for dinner.”
“It was my pleasure. How was work today?”
“Good. Busy. Vivian runs a tight ship. How are your rewrites coming along?”
“Just about done. Then I start research for the next book.”
“What’s that one about?”
“Baseball stadiums, old and new. Their history. That sort of thing.”
“Interesting. Are you going to include a chapter on stadium food?
”
“Stadium food?”
“One of the best things about going to a game is the food. Different parks have different specialties. Just think of all the different ways hotdogs are prepared in ballparks across the country and Canada. You could write a whole book just on that.”
He laughs.
I tilt my head and smile. “What?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“Back to food again. I love the way your mind works.”
“Are you teasing me?”
“Never.” He holds up his hands, pretending he’s surrendering.
“Well, whatever you write, I look forward to reading it.”
“And sending it back to me with redline mark-ups and revision requests?”
“I do have bills to pay. If I don’t send something back, I don’t have a job.”
“So my first book was really perfect?”
I nod with a wry grin. “Yup, I’m just a working girl looking to keep herself employed.”
“I knew it. I’m glad I could help. I wouldn’t want you out on the streets.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. So…what made you decide to be a writer?”
“It’s all I ever wanted to do. After college, I worked with my father for a few years. I was miserable. Corporate life isn’t for me. I quit my job and never looked back.”
“Was your father upset?”
“He was…less than thrilled. He said I’d never make a living at it. But I have an inheritance from my grandfather’s estate to live off of for a while; I figured I’d give it a shot.”
“Well, you’re a very talented writer.”
“Thank you.”
As we’re turning the corner, a shiny silver object catches my attention. I bend down and pick up a quarter. “Here.” I hand it to Ben. He looks at the quarter, then back up at me with a frown. “I remembered you collect coins,” I explain.
“Ah, thanks.” He examines the coin. “Common, but always worth a look. Thank you again. I’ll put it in the donation jar.”
“You have a donation jar? What are you donating to?”
