Soaring (The Vivienne Series Book 5)

by Karen Gordon

  She doesn’t answer because she knows I’m right.

  “Speaking of which, I need your help.”

  “Sure, shoot.”

  “I need to parcel some of this research off onto you.” This genius plan dawned on me this morning in the shower. “I’ll pay you to be my research assistant.”

  “I’m listening.” And getting her laptop out. I can hear her typing.

  “If I do this myself it’ll be too slow, so I’ll pay you my media rate to help me find all this info.”

  “And I know where all the juicy info is.”

  “Yeah, well, this isn’t juicy. It’s lots and lots of data and facts, maps, etc.”

  She doesn’t hide her disappointment. “Maps? Data?”

  “Pay.”

  “Fine, go, what do you need?”

  “I’ll put together an email with all the questions we have about the foreign airports and give you some clues where to start looking. Let me know if you get stuck.”

  “Ha, me? Do you know who you are talking to?”

  I laugh because she’s right. In a few days she’ll have all this info for me along with personal bios on each of Evan’s employees in these cities with hearts drawn around any that look like promising dates.

  ✈　✈　✈

  I’m not sure how to deal with the gap in time that it’s going to take me to pull together all the answers Evan needs to get started. Do I stay in California? Go back home? The Christmas rush has already started at the airports and I cringe at the idea of fighting the sea of families. I offhandedly mention it to Evan when I text him a timeline and possible next meeting time. I get his version of an invite back.

  Stay here.

  I hedge.

  I might.

  His offer is more tempting than I thought it would be. It feels very casual and he lets me know we would not be alone.

  I go out to eat with some friends on the 25th. You could come with us.

  I don’t want to fly home but I don’t want to sit in this room alone. I’m debating when he adds.

  Chinese food on Christmas, tradition.

  My dad and I did used to have Chinese food together on holidays. We had a hard time celebrating after my mom died. Maybe this is a good tradition to rekindle this year. I let him know I’m in.

  K, sounds good.

  I call Dom to let her know I won’t be with her family for the first time in years. She’s anything but disappointed because I’m spending it with Evan. I tell myself that we are all business, that he’s just being polite by asking me to hang out with him and his friends, but inside I know better. It’s a quasi-date.

  Chapter Three

  “Evan, is that a girl?”

  As soon as we arrive at the Chinese restaurant to meet his friends I question my decision to come. There are five guys at the table and no other women in sight. I get the feeling that this isn’t a bring-a-date event. Actually, I get the feeling they don’t have many bring-a-date events.

  I’m looked over and talked about as if I’m not there.

  “Evan, look at you. Damn, one Forbes piece and you got a piece.” I glare at the guy who said it. I realize he is trying to be funny and clever, but he fails at both, especially considering he’s never met me before.

  Another guy chimes in. “See guys, billion gets you a girl.”

  I turn to Evan, hoping he will ask his friends to can it, but he’s too busy gloating. I consider leaving but its Christmas day—not much is open so my only other option is sitting in my hotel room alone. I take a seat at the far end of the table and try to ignore the fact that I’ve fallen into a high school vortex.

  Evan sits next to me and scoots closer. If he slyly puts his arm around me and tries to cop a feel I’m out of here.

  “So, female…” The big guy with the pony tail talks to me. “What is your name and how did Evan con you into this?”

  “Vivienne.” I look at him directly. I won’t be intimidated by his manners. “And Evan is a potential customer.” I consider adding that its strictly business between us but then stop myself. The less I say here the better.

  “What do you sell?” There’s a slight innuendo in the question, but the group is backing off some.

  “Supersonic private jets.”

  That gets their attention. “You’re shittin’ me.”

  “No.” I reach into my purse, grab a few business cards and pass them out. “For when each of you makes your first billion.”

  That shuts them up. They study my card (not that there’s much information on it) then tuck them away in pockets and wallets, each secretly planning to call me when their latest project takes off.

  Once I’ve established myself as not-Evan’s-date the tone changes. They ask questions about the plane. I pull up some beauty shots of it on my phone which is passed around and drooled over like a skin magazine. I throw some stats at them, definitely a crowd pleaser here.

  The only person not impressed is Evan. He’s quiet and sulky next to me. I’m not sure if he’s upset that they now know we aren’t a couple or if he doesn’t like me talking shop, but either way I don’t feel bad. He didn’t chime in when his friends were rude to me, so I had to set the tone myself.

  But my moment in the spotlight is short lived. Talk of my plane leads into talk of travel and foreign contractors, then the price and quality of programmers in certain countries. They lose me after travel but no one seems to notice so I order a beer when the waitress brings theirs and sit back to study them.

  They’re all smart, that’s obvious. Their conversation is full of advanced tech jargon that sets them apart from most people, possibly on purpose. If you’re not one of them you’re not invited into their conversation. I remember these guys from high school—not them specifically, but their group. At one point in time I thought they might welcome me, a shy, smart girl—someone like them. But I was wrong. I’m not smart in the same way as them. I don’t understand tech at their level, so I am dismissed. These are the guys who whined that others excluded them when in fact they excluded people too.

  We order, the food arrives quickly, and I’m still left out of the conversation. The only sense I get that they know I’m still here is a subtle undertone of boasting and bragging—trying to one-up each other on skills and accomplishments. I hide my chuckle behind my beer bottle because in reality they aren’t all that different than the jocks they claimed to despise in high school. They’re all boys who beat their chests and brag to impress a girl. I’m not impressed.

  What I am, is missing Danny. This was one of the reasons I developed my massive crush on him. Who knows what he was like at sixteen, but when I met him he was way past this. He talked to me, not about me. He wasn’t out to impress me which made him that much more impressive. I eat my lunch in peace, free to roam through my Danny memories, sure that I won’t be called on to add to the conversation.

  ✈　✈　✈

  After lunch they’ve planned to go see the latest super-hero movie. It’s not my cup of tea and I’ve had enough men-time so I beg off. I’m surprised when Evan does too.

  “I’ve already seen it a few times.” He explains.

  His friends, of course, read way too much into it, and do it loudly. “What the hell? Bros before…” Pony-tail-guy stops himself when he sees the look of pure disdain on my face. But he doesn’t back off completely. “I mean damn-it, we’ve all seen it before but this is tradition. If she doesn’t want to go…”

  Despite their pressure Evan doesn’t back down. “Not today. I’m gonna go crash.”

  “Crash…yeah.” The short guy looks at me then smirks and rolls his eyes.

  I’ve had enough. I say goodbye to no one because they’re arguing and not listening to me as I get up and walk away. While I’m in my car setting up the map app to get me back to my hotel, I get a text from Evan.

  Would you want to come over to see my place? Just bought it.

  I’m so torn. I don’t want to go sit in my room and I’d kind of like to s
ee his place. I’m curious, but its way out of business bounds. It almost smacks of a date. I reason that our mutual awkwardness will probably keep anything romantic from happening, so I let bored and nosey win out.

  Ok. Address?

  He sends me the address and I change my destination on the map app.

  ✈　✈　✈

  It’s just a house, a family-style ranch house. I’m surprised. I would think a guy who is looking into buying a flashy jet would want a flashier place to live.

  The inside doesn’t surprise me. It’s pretty much empty, except for a massive TV system with a group of mismatched couches and chairs facing it and a bank of computers set up in what should be the dining room. He doesn’t give me a full tour but he does show me the pool out back. This is clearly where the former owners spent the bulk of their money. It’s an ultimate pool deck with a bar, infinity hot tub, beach entry pool, waterfall, giant TV screen and slide. It takes up the entire back yard. It’s like the house is an afterthought that happens to be attached to the pool area.

  “Wow. It’s a party palace.”

  He’s smiling as he surveys his crown jewel. “Yep. As soon as it gets warmer…”

  “Does the TV work?”

  He looks offended as if I’m questioning the quality of his toy.

  “I mean, did you get a chance to hook it up yet?”

  “First thing I did.”

  Interesting priorities. “Show me.”

  He fishes in a drawer near the built-in grill and pulls out several remotes. After a complex button pattern the system roars to life. There are hidden speakers throughout the pool area. I don’t feel like talking over them so I just smile and nod my approval. He flips through cannels until he comes to a music video and stops there.

  It’s the perfect set up for a crowd of twenty-somethings to let loose, drink and hook up. But I wonder who, besides his friends that I met today, would be at this party. Most of his employees are in other countries. I pick up the remote he set down and press buttons until I turn down the volume.

  “Very cool. You’ll have to invite me to one of your parties.”

  “Yeah?” It’s a question and I don’t know if he’s not sure there will be parties or that I would come.

  I take a seat on one of the lounge chairs in the sun. It’s around sixty degrees out with a cool breeze. The hot tub would feel fantastic right now and it would be a blast to sit in there and watch a show. But I don’t have a swim suit and naked hot tub time with Evan isn’t even a possibility. Instead I sit back and enjoy Evan’s cool house and his company. Now that I’m starting to figure him out he’s easier to be around. Knowing that he is as socially gawky as I am lets me not overthink everything I say. If I say something stupid I doubt he’d notice.

  He sits in the lounger next to me and we watch videos in companionable silence.

  When the sun gets low in the sky the breeze makes it too cold to sit outside. I rub the goose bumps on my arms then let myself back inside. Evan follows.

  I look at my watch. It’s late and my Chinese lunch has worn off. “Thank you for the tour. It’s getting late. I’d better head back to the hotel.” I walk toward the front door.

  He stops me when he says, “I was about to have dinner. Do you want some too?”

  Without waiting for me to answer he walks into his kitchen. I follow him and notice that this is not where the former owners spent any money. The appliances are late 1970’s harvest gold, the counter tops marred, stained and scratched formica. He picks up a stack of take-out menus and flips through them.

  “I think some of these are open.”

  Damn, that’s right. I had forgotten that it’s Christmas day and there aren’t going to be many options for me for dinner. I might as well stay.

  I sort through them. Most are national fast food chains, my least favorite, but I can’t be choosy. “We could get a pizza.”

  “What do you like on it?” He’s not sure he wants to split a pizza with me considering all the exotic ingredients I had at the Italian restaurant the other night. But I know him now and I know the right answer.

  “Cheese.”

  And there it is again—him melting before my eyes, absolutely loving that I knew the right answer. I chastise myself because I know I’m only mixing things up between us, but I can’t help myself. It’s so easy to please him and I’m programmed to learn people’s likes and please them. It’s what I do. Whether it’s because he’s my customer or just a nice guy, I like to make him smile.

  Chapter Four

  “So you never believed in Santa?”

  Evan smirks at the crazy idea. “Not that I can remember. I was four or five when I realized how strange the whole idea was, that it didn’t make sense.”

  “Seriously, that young?” We’re sitting in his living room eating dinner off the coffee table because the dining room is his home office. I’ve made myself at home on a comfortable couch while Evan sits on the far side of the table eating the messiest pile of pizza I’ve ever seen. It turns out he likes to dip his pizza in ranch dressing. I’m trying hard not to flinch at the gross combination.

  “Airplanes fascinated me at that age, so I studied them. Once I learned how fast they could go the whole idea of Santa flying all over the world in one night didn’t make sense.”

  “Yeah, but…magic.”

  “Never believed in it.” A blop of ranch dressing lands on the front of his shirt as he takes a bite. He sees it and scoops it off but doesn’t seem embarrassed.

  “Magicians?”

  “I’d search for their tricks online and find the science behind it.”

  “Do your parents celebrate Christmas?” I’m picking at my cheese pizza. Between the marginal-quality Chinese food at lunch and greasy pizza right now my stomach is protesting loudly. I’d be mortified with any other guy.

  “My mom doesn’t. She lives in Hong Kong. But my dad does.” I’m almost getting used to his cryptic, short answers. He leaves information off as if I should be able to deduce it from what he has said.

  “Does he live in Hong Kong?”

  He seems a little irritated that I didn’t understand his implications. “No, my parents are divorced and he’s remarried. He has another family. They live in Utah so they celebrate Christmas.”

  I want to push him and ask if it’s a given that everyone in Utah celebrates Christmas but I let it go. He makes broad assumptions when it comes to social situations. I’m storing all his quirks up for our discussions about him buying a plane. He doesn’t ask about my past so I volunteer the information. “After my mom died my dad tried to do some Christmas stuff for me, but…it seemed weird after a while. We’re not religious. Why celebrate something we don’t believe in? We don’t celebrate Ramadan.”

  “Exactly.” He lights up at our shared sense of logic, and I have to admit it is nice to spend this holiday with one of the few others in this world who looks at it like I do. He looks down, unable to make eye contact. “You’re…easy to talk to.”

  I smile at him even though he doesn’t see it. “Thanks.”

  He continues as if I didn’t reply. He apparently has something important to tell me. “I met some…girls…” He looks up to see if I’m listening, then looks at his shoes again. “After the Forbes article, women contacted me. Not all together, different ones. I mean, they didn’t know each other, or I don’t think they did.” He takes a breath to stop his chain-of-thought rambling. He’s very nervous about telling me this story. “Anyway, they asked me out, so I went out on some dates with them and…” He’s silent for a minute with his memory. “And it didn’t go so well. They would ask me questions and I would answer but they didn’t understand my answers.” He shakes his head at the remembered frustration. “It’s why I don’t date.”

  My heart stops at his last line. Again he’s implied most of what he wants to say, but I’m pretty sure I get him. He sees this as a date—one he is enjoying. My stomach rumbles and gurgles again so I use the distraction to excuse mys
elf. “Bathroom?”

  He points down the hallway.

  ✈　✈　✈

  I sit on the toilet and debate and theorize. Is this a good thing? Don’t I want him to see me this way? What if it interferes with making a sale? I need paper and a pen or Dom. I need some way to organize and make sense of what’s happening. What if he tries to kiss me? Do I want to kiss him? This is not something I would have to question with other guys. But with Evan I think a kiss would be a big deal. It would seal a dating contract—signify that I was his girlfriend (possibly his first).

  I wash my hands then pace in the small space. Chances are he won’t try to kiss me. If we do date I’ll probably have to make the first move. And that’s a good thing.

  I’m feeling calmer now, enough to go out and face Evan again. “My stomach is bothering me, so I’m gonna head back to my hotel. I’ve got some medicine in my suitcase.” It’s only Pepto-Bismol, but I doubt he has a stocked medicine cabinet so I feel like it’s a legitimate excuse to leave.

  He doesn’t hide his disappointment. After his recent confession I am kind of leaving him hanging.

  I pick up my purse and dig through it to find my keys. I’m stalling, not sure how to bow out gracefully and not make him feel bad for declaring his like for me in a round-about way. “Thank you for today. I appreciate not having to hang out alone. There’s isn’t much to do with so much closed.”

  He’s got his hands in his pockets and he won’t come near me. Yeah, I’m safe from any good-night kisses.

  “So, I’ll call you or text you when I get the research done.” I’ve gone back into business mode, but I’m not good at exits. I rely on my pat corporate lines to get me out of places. “It may be a week or two.”

  With my keys in hand I open his front door. He’s followed me as far as the entry hallway but he’s still standing on the other side of it, hands jammed into his jean’s pockets. “Ok.” He’s not happy I’m leaving but he’s not about to say anything about it.