Loving Mr. July

by Margaret Antone

  “I think there’s a folder title ‘Calendar’ in there somewhere,” Marjorie said, waving at her phone. “You’ll see the ‘afters’ in there.

  Holly tapped at the phone. After a few minutes of swiping, she looked up at Cynthia. “Where did you find these guys? You’ve got some hotties in here.”

  Cynthia shrugged. “Patty’s an amazing photographer. We’re lucky to have her.”

  “That may be,” Holly replied, “but you got to start with decent raw material.”

  “If you want to see Kurt’s final shot, he’s Mr. July.” Cynthia took a sip of her coffee. She grimaced. It was cold.

  “Oh, she is good.” Holly looked up and smiled at them. “He looks uber sexy, but not so much like a porn star after she finished with the cropping.

  She handed the phone back to her aunt and gazed at Cynthia. “I think you know more about that shot than you’re letting on.”

  “She’s in the studio for all these shots, you know.” Marjorie put in.

  Cynthia threw up her hands and laughed. “Okay, I give up, uncle, whatever.”

  “So you’ll tell us?” Marjorie sat forward in her chair. “Because Kurt wouldn’t say a word.”

  Cynthia sighed. “God, this is embarrassing.”

  “Just get over the fact that she’s his mother.” Holly waved a hand at Marjorie.

  “Yes, do.” Marjorie added. “Because I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “You saw the progression of shots.” She waved a hand in the general direction of Marjorie’s purse. “We weren’t getting what we wanted. Kurt was in a seriously bad mood.”

  “He probably felt stupid,” Holly said.

  “Oh he definitely did.” Cynthia nodded, frowning a bit. “And the more Patty tried, the worse it got. Finally she started cracking jokes. And we got better shots.”

  “But they still weren’t sexy.” Holly rested her head on one hand.

  “Not even close.” Cynthia toyed with a ring on her hand. “So I walked up to him, told him to imagine his fantasy woman, and planted a kiss on him.”

  She looked up at the two women, who stared at her with rapt attention. “The problem was, afterwards, I wasn’t sure who he was imagining I was.”

  Holly exchanged a look with Marjorie, who raised one brow. “Okay, spill it, Auntie.”

  Marjorie put a hand to her chest and affected a wide-eyed look.

  “Don’t act all innocent,” Holly said, waving a fork at her aunt. “You know something. Your eye is twitching.”

  Marjorie started laughing. “Okay, I admit it. I talked to Patty.”

  She turned and winked at Cynthia. “She told me she was close to suggesting you two get a room. So I don’t think my son was imagining anything.”

  Cynthia couldn’t think of a thing to say at that moment.

  Holly gave Cynthia a sympathetic glance. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to her.”

  Cynthia found her voice. “If you already knew, why did you ask?”

  Holly raised a brow at Marjorie.

  “It’s not like I knew everything,” Marjorie told them. “Patty just said you’d laid one on him and that it got pretty hot.” She took a sip of coffee. “I wanted to hear your side.”

  Cynthia stared at them both for a moment, and then started chuckling. She held up a hand, shook her head. “Okay, this ranks as one of the weirdest brunches I’ve ever had in my life. And I would be completely mortified, not just partly, if I didn’t suspect somehow that you all are on my side.”

  She looked to the other two for confirmation.

  Both women nodded.

  “So my question is, why?”

  Holly looked at her aunt. “You want to tell her or should I?”

  Marjorie, having just taken another bite of profiterole, waved at Holly to continue.

  “It’s like this,” Holly said, turning to face Cynthia. “We all love Kurt, I mean who wouldn’t? But some of the women he’s brought home in the last few years? Not so much.”

  At this point Marjorie rolled her eyes. “How about not at all?”

  “I was being nice,” Holly said. “And it seemed like he wasn’t happy. But he wasn’t doing anything about it.”

  “He let all those money-grubbers find him,” Marjorie put in.

  “They weren’t all money-grubbers,” Holly chided her aunt.

  “Maybe not, but a lot of them seemed artificial.”

  “So when Kurt started whistling, being all cheerful, and leaving the office on time for once, Auntie and me wanted to know why.”

  “He was leaving the office to workout with me,” Cynthia said. “Supposedly he wanted to get rid of the donut around his stomach.”

  “Uh huh.” Holly chuckled. “Cynthia, we’re talking a man who hadn’t left work before 9 pm for the last two years. I think it was more than wanting to get rid of his stomach. I’ve never seen him so eager to leave the office.”

  “Seemed more like he was trying to punish me for the calendar.”

  “That may have been his initial thought,” Holly said, “but I don’t think he cared all that much.”

  “I would never have guessed from the way he acted around me.”

  “He’s pretty good at hiding his true feelings under all that charm,” Marjorie said. “He’s friendly to most people, but his close friends, the people he trusts? Those you could probably count on a hand or two.”

  “So when Auntie told me she thought she knew who the woman was, and that she approved. Well, I had to meet you.”

  “Hence this brunch?”

  “Partly,” Marjorie admitted. “But I knew Holly and you would hit it off. And now that I know why you and Kurt haven’t been speaking, I’m happier than ever that I invited Holly along.”

  “Me too.” Cynthia smiled at both of them. “And I hope that some day I’ll be lucky enough to call you family.”

  “Oh you will, my dear. You will.” Marjorie gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  Chapter 21

  Kurt looked around the room at all the expectant faces. Rumors about the company going public had abounded in the last few weeks. It was time to set the record straight.

  “So first of all, I gathered all you managers here to apologize. I know I’ve been a little rough on you all lately.”

  He heard muffled laughter.

  “Okay, I’ve been a real ass,” he admitted. He held up a hand to silence the now loud laughter. “But there’s a reason.”

  More than one reason, he admitted to himself. But he wasn’t about to talk about his other reasons in front of this group.

  “We’ve finally got the financial numbers that warrant taking the company public, an event I know many of you have worked very hard to achieve.”

  His managers started clapping.

  Kurt held up his hand again. “Before you get too excited, I need to let you know that the hard work is only just beginning. Some of you have been through something like this before. Some haven’t. And those of you that have realize that we need scrupulous financial records.”

  He flicked a switch to lower the projection screen. While it came down, he clicked to the appropriate presentation on his laptop.

  “The executive staff selected our investment banking partners, who have poured over our financials and concur that we are ready to go public. We’ve had our lawyers help draft the prospectus, and some of you have worked to scrub our outward bound communications to make sure we aren’t doing or saying anything that could be misconstrued.”

  He smiled at Mario, his communications director. The man had gone above and beyond the call of duty, and he was going to get a raise very soon.

  “In a few weeks, we’ll file our registration statement with the SEC, and then in the coming weeks, we’ll tap a number of you to accompany us,” Kurt said, motioning between Blake and himself, “on our road show for prospective investors.”

  Kurt shut down his presentation. “Any questions?”

  He looked around the room of mostly happy faces. No one
spoke.

  “Well that has to be a first. Remind me to always hold meetings right after lunch when you all are comatose.”

  After the laughter died down, he said, “Okay, you’re free to go tell your groups. Remind them of their responsibilities and direct any questions you aren’t completely sure of the answer to either Blake or myself.”

  As the managers began filing out, he turned to Mario. “Can you stay for a minute?”

  Mario nodded and sat back down.

  Kurt waited for all of the other managers, and his brother, to leave the room. “So I have a favor to ask of you. A deeply personal favor.”

  Mario looked a little surprised. “What’s up?”

  Kurt took a breath. “You’re going to laugh at what I’m going to ask of you. And believe me, if I could figure out another way to do this, I would, but it’s my best plan at the moment.”

  “Okay, now I’m really curious.” Mario sat forward in his chair.

  “And I’m also asking you because I know I can count on your discretion.”

  “Thank you.”

  “At the same time, I’m warning you that if you laugh too hard, I may have to punch you.”

  Mario sat back, his eyes wide. “Okay, now I know it involves a woman.”

  Kurt smiled. “See? You know me well.”

  “I should think so. How many years were we roommates before I found my wife?”

  “Too many.” Kurt gave him a playful jab on the arm. “And this favor includes borrowing your wife.”

  “Excuse me?” Mario stared at him. “You know I’d do almost anything for you, Dude, but hey, my wife’s off limits.”

  “I don’t mean borrow as in sleep with her or something, you dumbass.”

  “I don’t think calling someone a dumbass is PC.”

  Kurt gave him an exasperated glare. “I meant I need her help too.”

  Mario chuckled. “Oh man, you are in bad shape. I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be all twisted up over some woman. It’s kind of humorous.”

  “I said you couldn’t laugh.”

  “Okay, okay.” Mario held up a hand. “What’s her name? When’s the big day?”

  “Never at the rate I’m going.” Kurt raked a hand through his hair. He quickly explained the situation with Cynthia. “I need to prove to her that she’s the one.”

  “You sure about this, Dude? I mean, she sort of sounds like a piece of work.”

  “But she’s not. When you meet her, you’ll understand.”

  “Okay.” Mario didn’t sound convinced. “So what do you need me and Stella to do?”

  “You guys free on the 18th?”

  “Need to check with Stella for sure, but I would think so. We don’t get out much these days.”

  Kurt thought about Mario’s three rowdy little boys. “I guess you need a sitter too, right?”

  Mario shook his head. “Nah, Stella’s mother is over every chance she can get. I’ll check with her, but I’m pretty sure it’s fine.”

  “Great. Because I need you to attend the Bocher Foundation auction,” Kurt said, rubbing his hands together. “And here’s what I need Stella to do.”

  Chapter 22

  Cynthia surveyed the ballroom with no small degree of satisfaction. True, the room hadn’t come together solely through her efforts, but her hand was in just about every detail. What had been a boring hotel ballroom now looked like the inside of a Roman ruin.

  Hiring those local high school art students to paint the trompe l'oeil backgrounds with night scenes amidst broken columns and arches had been pure genius on Sharon’s part, Cynthia thought, as she moved one of the large flower displays a couple of inches to the right to better cover a seam in the painted fabric. And the place settings put together by the high school culinary arts students would have done Martha Stewart proud. Marjorie took the credit for that idea, while Cynthia mentally patted herself on the back for keeping the costs down to an all time low. Mrs. Bocher would be pleased by how much profit they would make off the event this year, Cynthia was sure of it.

  Flicking on the projector, she checked the background photographs. For the first few, Patty had created some mood pieces to go along with the Roman theme, using her talent with photography and Photoshop. The dark, night-themed artwork would serve as a backdrop during the dinner, making the stage appear less prominent. For the speeches portion of the dinner, Patty’s slides included a photograph of each speaker to the right of the podium, while behind the podium, simple patterned color would complement the clothing and coloring of each person.

  For the auction, Patty had created a short slideshow for each gentleman. It started with a simple headshot, which would display while the man’s business accomplishments would be detailed. Then it progressed to photographs of their fantasy weekend locales. And the final end cap to the presentation was the calendar shot chosen for each man. Patty had taken advantage of the enormous screen available in the ballroom to display much larger than life images. The effect was rather startling, because Patty’s skill at taking the photographs made it look, from almost every corner of the room, as if the men stared directly into your eyes. Cynthia was sure the effect would be increased bidding amongst the wealthier single women.

  She waited while the band performed a sound check. Holly had found the band through her many connections. When they began rehearsing their first number, Cynthia smiled again. They were good. Better than good. Yes, the event was going to surpass all of the previous years, Cynthia could just tell. With a final tweak of a few place cards, Cynthia finished her survey of the room and headed for the exit.

  Now her personal preparations needed attention, for she aimed to look the best she ever had in her life tonight.

  ~ ~ ~

  The keynote speaker droned on and on. Cynthia made a mental note to suggest ditching the whole idea next year. Most people that came to the auction knew what the foundation did. And if they didn’t, this bore wasn’t doing the foundation any favors.

  She tuned him out, while she wondered who had switched the place cards on their table. For now Kurt sat next to Marjorie, who was across the circular table. Holly had plopped herself in the chair to Cynthia’s right, where Kurt’s place card had been this morning. And a grey-haired gentleman whom Marjorie had introduced as her date was on Cynthia’s left. As she gazed around the table, making sure not to catch anyone’s eye, she realized that all of the couples had been split up. Holly’s fiancé was next to Sharon, and Blake was next to Marjorie. And Marjorie had been avoiding her all evening. What the heck was going on?

  A pinch on her elbow brought Cynthia back to attention. “Wake up, you’re on,” Holly whispered.

  Cynthia abruptly stopped clapping, as she realized that the applause she had mindlessly been contributing to had been for her introduction. Feeling her face flush, she made her way up to the podium.

  Summoning up her best speaking voice, she launched into introductions. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Now is the part of the evening all you single ladies have been waiting for. And for you men, well, apologies ahead of time, but we ask for your patience while we cater to the ladies for a bit.”

  “Twelve, very eligible bachelors have generously donated their time and finances to help the Bocher Foundation raise money for their excellent work in the community. Now I’ll be introducing each gentleman, one at a time, and our auctioneer here, Brody of Brody’s Auction Services,” Cynthia said, gesturing to a short man standing to her right on the stage, “will call the auction and monitor the bids.”

  Cynthia waited for the light sprinkling of applause to die down. “All you women ready?”

  As some of the more rambunctious women hooted and hollered, Cynthia glanced over at the twelve men now sitting in a row on the stage. A few of them were grinning, a few looked a little embarrassed, and at least two, Kurt included, had slid down in their chairs, affecting a bored stance.

  She smiled. The poor guys had no idea what they were in for. There was a re
ason they held the auction toward the end of the ball, when alcohol had been available for at least a couple of hours. Years of experience had shown that when the women lost a little bit of their normal inhibitions, they tended to bid fast and furious. And the Foundation’s bottom line usually benefited.

  “Okay then! Our first businessman, Adam Bradley, a.k.a., Mr. January,” Cynthia turned and winked at Adam, who gave her a winning smile, “is a local boy. He grew up surfing the breaks in Encintas—”

  A tipsy woman in the front row gave a wolf whistle. Adam blew her a kiss.

  Cynthia waited for the laughter to die down. “—and founded a line of surfing accessories while still a student at SDSU. His line has since expanded into clothing and surfboards now sold in more than twenty countries.”

  She paused to let Adam enjoy the applause. “His fantasy weekend, should you be lucky enough to win it, includes an all expense paid weekend at the fabulous Lodge at Torrey Pines…”

  The room erupted in applause as photographs of the Craftsman-style hotel with its rich wood details appeared on the screen, followed by a photograph of a sunset from the cliffs.

  “Personal surfing instructions—” Cynthia lowered her voice to a sexy purr and gave Adam a sideways glance. “Is that in the room or outside?”

  Adam played right along with her, drawling out, “Lady’s choice. I can be accommodating.”

  The woman in the front row hollered out, “I’ll bet you can, baby.”

  Cynthia grinned. Adam was one of her favorites in this year’s calendar. She had picked him for Mr. January on purpose, knowing that he’d be up first in the auction. And because he was such a ham, she knew she could count on him to get the crowd going.

  “Adam’s package also includes a day of pampering in the lodge’s spa.” Cynthia put down her notes and faced the audience. “So, without further ado, let me introduce Adam Bradley!”

  Adam walked toward Cynthia while the screen behind him switched to his calendar photo.

  Patty had taken him down to the beach near the end of the day, when the light was its most golden, to create his calendar shot. In it, Adam leaned against a rock, his surfboard at his feet, and his wetsuit pulled down to reveal a wet, muscular chest. He had one hand in his hair, finger-combing it back from his face, which was angled slightly away, allowing Patty to use the natural shadows of the late afternoon sun to emphasize his strong jaw lines.