My Man's Best Friend- Book 1

by K. Elle Collier

  “Oh, the model is just for presentation,” Simone said, “let's be clear on that. She will be replaced once the campaign is ours. Right now my main concern is landing this puppy.”

  “We will,” I said with confidence, just to remind Simone that I had her back 110%.

  “I love your positive energy, Kai. Keep that up. We need it around here.” Simone glanced at her watch. “We present in an hour. Meet me in my office in 30 so I can brief you.”

  “I'll be there,” I assured her.

  Simone scooped up her boards and turned to leave, but quickly swung back around to face me. “By the way, why were you gone so long?”

  I let out a huge smile, unable to control any of my facial muscles.

  Simone returned my smile with a smirk. “Thought so. Okay, then, what's the brother's name?”

  “Todd,” I blushed.

  “Well, Todd had better be damn fine, keeping you out of the office when we have this project hanging over our heads.”

  “Oh, he's definitely something to take home for all to see,” I said proudly.

  “Those are always the best. See you in 30,” Simone said, giving me a wink as she left my office.

  I leaned back in my chair as I replayed my close encounter with my Mr. Mocha in my mind. I drifted into a fantasy – only to be startled by the ring of my cell phone. I grabbed it off the desk and smiled as it displayed, “call from Todd.”

  I just loved winning the prize.

 

  CHAPTER 2

  UNSPOKEN TRUTH

  I can’t stop crying.

  I try to run but they block my way, pushing me down. Fear has paralyzed me, overcome me, and is running through every inch of my body. I am scared – no, I am terrified. They stand over me, laughing, taunting, teasing. My heart pumps faster and faster. My body is sore and dirty. I look to the left then to the right, plotting my escape. They keep laughing, they high-five each other as if they've done something great, something admirable, but they haven't. I wonder what I've done to deserve this. My mind races, I feel weak, cold, and confused, but they keep laughing, they keep taunting.

  “Stop!” I scream over and over until I hear and feel my voice go hoarse.

  ***

  I wakened abruptly from my dream. I heard a buzzer but didn’t realize it was my front door. I stared into space before making the connection. I slowly sat up trying to focus on the clock – 9:30 am. Perspiration rested lightly on my face, neck and chest. I ran my fingers through my hair, rubbed my face, wiped the sleep out of my eyes. I felt drained; my body ached. I slid out of bed, grabbed an oversized sweatshirt, slipped it on, and headed for my front door. My hardwood floors were cold to the touch. My legs still ached from my workout two days earlier. Each step was accompanied by small spurts of pain, a bittersweet feeling, one of the tabs I had to pick up for the betterment of my toned body.

  I opened the door to see my twin sister, Mila, standing in front of me. By the annoyed look on her face, you would have thought she had been standing there for hours.

  “Please don't tell me you were still asleep. It's 9:30 in the morning, Kai,” Mila scoffed as she entered my apartment and headed straight to my kitchen.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I said as I closed the door, shook my head, and followed her.

  Having a twin sister definitely meant more attention growing up. Everyone always wanted to know about the twins and we felt like stars in our neighborhood. The fact that Mila and I were fraternal twins gave us our own individuality, not to mention our own styles. We shared the same caramel-colored skin, although her hair was straight as silk, while mine was naturally curly. I got my father’s height and build, long legs, and athletic body, while Mila was a carbon copy of our mom, equipped with thick legs, short torso and big breasts. People always marveled at how different we looked being twins and all, but I had to remind them that we were fraternal twins, not identical.

  I entered the kitchen to see Mila preparing a pot of coffee.

  “Kai, do you always sleep this late?”

  “Mila, I was working late last night and didn't get to bed until about 3am,” I said, trying not to sound too irritated that she was breaking my buzzer at 9:30 on a Saturday morning.

  “Kai, sleeping late on the weekend only makes it harder to start your work week on Monday.”

  “How would you know that? You've never held a 9-to-5 in your life,” I said as I removed a bagel from a bag and began slicing it.

  “I read it in O magazine,” Mila said as if that settled it.

  I wasn't going to touch that one.

  “So. Why are you here so early?” I asked as I belted out a roaring yawn.

  “Did you forget, darlin'? We're going shopping today,” Mila said as she started putting away the dishes that had been sitting in the drying rack for three days.

  “How could I have forgotten? You reminded me three times yesterday, email, phone, then text.”

  “I know how forgetful you are, girl.”

  “No, Mila, now that would be you, which is why you're here now instead of at our agreed upon time of noon.”

  Mila stopped as she looked up at me.

  “Oh dear, you're right; I must have mixed up my schedules somehow. Oh well, since I'm here we should get an early start.”

  “Mila, does your husband ever wonder why you scurry out the house at the crack of dawn?” I asked. “I mean, most men like to get their ‘edge off’ in the morning and you, well, you jump ship before Charles even has a chance to pull into the dock.”

  “Kai,” Mila replied, “Charles and I do have our scheduled time together.”

  “Scheduled time?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Scheduled time. It’s something we have to do. I mean, between surgery and the twins there's really no time for spontaneity in our lives. You'll see, once you get married – that is, if you ever do get married. Speaking of marriage, do you think that will happen in this lifetime?”

  “Please don't start, not today,” I seethed. Regardless of how sharp I came back on the subject of marriage, it always seemed like Mila heard, “Please, let's talk about it more, much more.”

  Mila shifted her weight from her left foot to her right as she put her right hand on her hip. “Kai, you're moving into an age bracket where men don't look anymore.”

  “What age bracket is that Mila?”

  “You know, 35 and up, which is right around the corner. Men don't look at you as marriage material, not as much anyway. You have to be realistic, your window for bearing children is closing at a rapid speed.”

  “Oh, God, Mila, would you give it a rest, please? I don't give a damn what men think. If I meet a man who truly loves me, it won't matter what age I am. At least I'll know that I married for love and not for money.”

  Mila stopped and looked at me. I knew that had to have stung. I hated it when she pushed me to say things I shouldn't say. Mila stayed silent.

  “Mila, I’m…”

  “So what stores do you want to hit first?” Mila blurted, not making eye contact.

  “It doesn't matter to me; as long as they sell shoes and purses, I’m good,” I said, still trying to get Mila to look up at me, but she was hurt.

  “Well, that leaves just about every store in town, doesn’t it?” Mila quipped as she continued putting my dishes away.

  I looked at Mila. She was wearing a silk blouse and Aline skirt, more like she was going to an interview rather than the mall. Mila had always been a lot more conservative than me. Had she pursued a career, any career, my guess is that she would have been a great accountant. On the other hand, I needed anything, as long as it was creative.

  Mila continued to busy herself around my kitchen. It was time to shift the conversation.

  “So I had another one of my dreams again,” I said, trying to make eye contact with my twin.

  Mila didn't even acknowledge what had just come out of my mouth.

  “Did you hear me?” I asked.

  “I heard yo
u Kai; why you telling me?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for starters, I'm not a psychologist.”

  “I know, but you are my sister.”

  Mila turned, evading the discussion. She opened another cabinet, sighed, and began putting away more dishes. I took a deep breath as I ran my fingers through my naturally curly hair (that needed a wash and deep conditioner). I walked over and poured myself a cup of coffee, adding my hazelnut coffee creamer and five – yes, five – cubes of sugar. It’s amazing that I’ve never fallen into a diabetic coma. I took a sip and watched Mila continue to organize my already organized cabinets.

  “I just thought…”

  “Why do you have your plates in the same cabinet with your glasses?” Mila asked, ignoring me completely.

  My patience was wearing thin with Mila’s anal ways.

  “Mila, every time you come over here you rearrange something and then when you leave I can't find shit,” I snapped.

  “I'll make a chart of where everything is. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds stupid,” I said. “How about you just leave everything the way it is?”

  “Why would I do that? You obviously need someone to come in to organize things for you.” Mila paused to pull a large glass container off a shelf. “What is this?”

  “What do you think?"

  “Oh my God, a bong?”

  “It's a glass candle holder.” I snatched it from Mila's judgmental grip and put it back in the cabinet.

  Mila scrunched up her face at the sight of the blackened candleholder now sitting back on the shelf.

  “Listen, do you want some breakfast? Because I'm starving,” I said, staring at the bagel that I just prepared and knowing that I needed something more.

  “We should go out to eat,” Mila suggested.

  “I was going to cook,” I said.

  “Nonsense, we should go to that cute little café on the corner. What's its name again?”

  “Café Bijou,” I said.

  “Yeah, Café Bijou. You go get decent and I'll finish up out here,” Mila said as she quickly turned back to the organized clutter that awaited her in my cabinets.

  I gave up. As I headed off to take a shower, all I could think about was how much my sister raked my nerves to no end. Then my mind shifted to Todd and our date later that day. I was nervous about seeing him. For the last two weeks we had been doing the whole “get to know you over the phone” thing – and one night we talked for five hours, as if we were in high school all again. The only thing that was missing was my mother picking up the downstairs receiver and threatening my life if I didn't hang up immediately and go to sleep.

  I wondered if I should tell Mila about my mystery man I met through a chance encounter at a coffee shop. I wondered if I should tell her about how the very thought of him brought butterflies to my stomach. Nah, I think I will keep my little secret and my butterflies to myself – at least for a little while, at least until after our first date.

 

  CHAPTER 3

  RESERVATIONS FOR TWO

  I was nervous about my date with Todd, I didn’t know what to wear or what shoes I was going to rock. Shoes can definitely make or break an outfit, just ask Sex and the City’s Carrie Bradshaw; besides Charlotte, Samantha, and Miranda, Carrie’s best friends were Marc Jacobs, Jimmy Choo, and Manolo Blahnik.

  In my opinion, a good piece of sexy footwear can make any woman look tantalizingly irresistible. On the night of my first date with Todd, I needed to be a one-woman smorgasbord. I sat at my desk contemplating where I should meet Todd for drinks and dinner – he insisted that I pick the place, my favorite place, but the only problem was I had five favorite places. That’s part of the beauty and the challenge of Chicago; there are tons of great restaurants, so picking a favorite one was not the easiest task, at least for me. I finally narrowed my options and made the selection of Blackbird on West Randolph. The ambience alone would make it the perfect place for our first date: it was cozy, simple, and very classy, not to mention their American style cuisine was exceptional. I picked up the phone and made a reservation for two at 8pm, leaving enough time to run home to shower and change so I’d get there smelling good – and looking even better.

  Simone poked her head in my office; she was on her way to lunch and wanted to know if she could pick up anything for me. I told her that I was eating light since I had a date. Intrigued, she entered my office.

  “Date? Would this date be with that Mr. Wonderful you met the other day at the coffee shop?”

  “That it would,” I said, confirming with a huge smile.

  “Oh, do tell, so where are you crazy kids going tonight?” Simone joked, flopping down on my office couch and kicking up her shoes.

  Simone was wearing a fabulous pair of camel leather Jimmy Choo sandals with silver accents, from the new spring line. She’s is not one to be caught in an old pair of any style shoe, and by old I mean last season. If Simone could find the real Jimmy Choo, she would have his baby, just to guarantee a monthly supply of footwear – not to mention a lifetime of bragging rights.

  “I just made reservations at Blackbird,” I said.

  “Trey nice,” Simone replied as she made herself even more comfortable on my couch. “So what are you wearing?”

  “Now that, my dear, is the $64,000 question.”

  “Well, of course, you have to start with the shoes,” Simone offered.

  “I know, that’s why on my way in this morning I stopped over at Bloomie’s and picked up these beauties.” I pulled out my new Marc Jacobs shoes, metallic gold leather with a slender, black four-inch heel. Simone sat up at attention, looking ready to salute my new addition to the family, as I pulled out the left shoe and swung it around my index finger by the strap, as the scent of new leather wafted through my office. “You like?”

  “I like a lot,” Simone gushed as she stood up to get a closer view.

  She grabbed the right shoe from the box and examined it from all angles. “You have really outdone yourself with these,” she said.

  “You damn right I did, $580 bucks’ worth, but well worth it.”

  “One look at these,” Simone intoned, “and I guarantee he’ll skip dinner and drinks and go straight for dessert – which is you, of course.”

  “That would be lovely, but there will be no sex to be had on the first date,” I added quickly.

  “Oh, are you back to the whole celibate thing again?” she asked. “Because I never understood that, uh, ‘way of life,’ you know?”

  Simone sauntered back over to the couch and sat back down.

  “I mean,” she said, “would you buy a car before you test drove it, or for that matter buy a tube of lipstick without testing it on the back of your hand? What if he’s got some hidden disability you don’t know about, that’d be grounds for divorce – and a big settlement, too.”

  “Hold on, now. I’m not saying I’ll wait until we get married,” I replied. “Just until I really get to know him type of thing, and that could be three months or six months. It’s kind of a ‘new me’ kind of thing.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Simone sighed. “Twenty bucks say you sleep with him tonight.”

  “Simone!”

  “What?”

  “Can I get a little bit of support from you?” I asked.

  “I’m totally supportive of this new, uh, ‘thing’ of yours,” she added quickly, “but I’m also supportive of winning some easy cash.” Simone laughed at her loopy logic.

  “Thanks for the support,” I deadpanned.

  “Anytime, anytime, that’s what best friends are for,” Simone said. “Okay, gotta go.” As Simone got up to leave my office, I picked up my Marc Jacobs again and wondered if Todd would even notice them.

  ***

  “Nice shoes,” Todd said, admiring my fancy footwear for a full five seconds before heading uptown to examine the rest of my wardrobe. My wondering quickly came to an end.

  “Thanks,” I said with a big
smile. As far as I was concerned, my night was already complete; he noticed the shoes. I glanced down to get another look at them myself, and yes, I did well. I’d decided to accent my shoes with a long metallic gold skirt with ruffled pleats and a simple form fitting, wife-beater tank top, of course, accentuated with three beaded necklaces of all different lengths.

  I had to admit, I looked fabulous.

  I’d arrived a few minutes early to get a seat at the bar, since Thursday nights were popular at Blackbird and I wasn’t going stand in my new Marc Jacobs for an hour pretending like my feet didn’t hurt.

  “So what are you drinking tonight?” Todd inquired as he waved down the bartender.

  “I’ll just have a house Chardonnay,” I said.

  I’d waited to order a drink until Todd arrived, for a few reasons: one, I hate to drink alone; two, I didn’t want to be tipsy when he arrived; and three, I wanted to see if he would order for me. I hate it when a guy invites you to dinner and doesn’t buy the first drink.

  “So we finally meet again,” Todd said as he scanned me again from my head down to my fabulous toes. “I was starting to forget how you looked.”

  “Wow, I guess my first impression must really suck!” I exclaimed.

  “It could use some work,” he joked.

  “Cute.”

  “That you are,” Todd said, this time with a more serious, seductive look. I took a sip of my wine and returned his look with my own seductive smile.

  “So, how’s the food here?” Todd asked.

  “It’s great, American Cuisine – can’t go wrong with that.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  There was a pause; one might call it an awkward one. Since this was the first time Todd and I had been face-to-face since we first met, I figured we were both just a little nervous. I decided to redirect the conversation a bit.