by Amanda Uhl
I rifled through them. A few yellow highlights jumped out at me. “I admit these are interesting. But why are you giving them to me?”
He hunched forward, urgent, no dimple in evidence. “I need you to look through these. See if you see anything unusual. There are a few numbers in yellow that look suspicious. I’ve made a few notes in the margins, too.”
“Charlie, are you sure about this? It still doesn’t make sense that Julie would wantonly destroy the company. Why don’t you ask Larry Reynolds about the large sums of money the company has invested? Or confront Julie. She seems to find you irresistible. I’m sure she’d break down and tell all. Maybe she’d even cut you a deal.”
He frowned, ignoring my sarcasm. “Maybe. But these numbers don’t look right, and I’m not taking any chances. I need your help, Val. You have the most knowledge of the lines outside of Julie and would be the first to recognize an unusual sales or spending pattern. I’d like you to analyze the data and see what you find.”
I gave him an exasperated look.
He quirked an eyebrow again. “What?”
“Charlie, how come you don’t think I’m the one embezzling money? I mean, I have access to the sales data, too. I could be in cahoots with Julie.”
He chuckled, the sound loud in my small apartment.
I stood, hands on hips. “Why are you laughing at me?”
He struggled to remove the smile from his face but it kept creeping in, like a ray of sun through clouds. “When’s the last time you stole from someone, Val?”
I smirked. He wasn’t going to win this argument. “The other day, as a matter of fact.”
His eyebrow rose up, right on cue. “Ah-hah. That’s why you were pounding the vending machine last week. I knew it.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks before I could stop it. He’d obviously caught me in a weak moment. After weeks of eating grapefruit for breakfast, I had given in to a giant craving for chocolate. Donuts. A package of six. Yum. The memory still made my mouth water. “I paid for my snack, fair and square. Why were you spying on me?”
His smile lit up his face, nearly stopping my heart for a second and causing it to beat painfully in my chest. I struggled to ignore the sensation.
“I couldn’t help it. I was curious to see what you’d pick. When you finally decided, you looked so cute going after those donuts. Kicking the machine and cursing and all.”
“Well, that’s not what I meant by stealing.”
“So, who’d you steal from? Let’s see. You swiped a grapefruit from the market?’
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but crack a smile. He was playing the guessing game again. Why I found this amusing, I didn’t know.
“Ah-ha, it was food. A cup of coffee from the cafeteria?”
I shook my head.
“Spices from George?’”
“Please.”
“Okay, I give. What did my little food-loving Val steal? Cheese from a mouse?”
He wasn’t far off, I’d give him that. “I took some chocolate off Bernie’s desk when she wasn’t looking.”
He laughed, stood up, and moved toward where I was standing, crowding my personal space. I swallowed, my heart beating at a rapid pace. He towered over me. Unlike George. I stole a quick glance at the microwave clock in the kitchen. 8:09 p.m. George was running behind.
Charlie’s sharp eyes did not miss a thing. “Looks like your dinner might be late.”
I frowned. “Yeah, I guess. That’s not like George. Something must be up.”
No sooner did the words leave my mouth my phone buzzed. “Excuse me a moment.”
I ducked away from him to grab my cell on the coffee table. While I talked with George, Charlie strolled into my kitchen and had the audacity to open my cupboards and peer into my fridge. I gave him the evil eye, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Val, sorry, but something important has come up with the business.” George sounded anxious, almost panicked. “I’m not going to make it tonight.”
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“The owner is balking at some of our contract changes. They’re saying we have to pay all the closing costs. Our deal was $200,000 even. Mom’s in a tizzy. We’ll have to do some crazy accounting to come up with the extra funds.”
I could hear Yasmine in the background arguing with Rami in Lebanese. “How much extra will you need?”
“Ten grand. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but the shop needs repairs, too, and I can’t expect my parents to cough up the extra cash.”
“George,” I hesitated, choosing my next words carefully. “I know you and Bernie don’t see eye to eye, but you ought to give her a call. She’s better than me at coming up with creative solutions. She could probably take a look at your parents’ books and offer a few suggestions.”
“Yeah, I thought of that,” George admitted.
“You did?” George must be desperate to think of going to Bernie.
“Sure I did. I mean I know she doesn’t like me, but that doesn’t mean she’s stupid. So, you’re okay if I call her?”
“Absolutely. Bernie will have some great suggestions. I know she will. If she doesn’t, call me back, and I’ll brainstorm with you.”
“Ok. Sorry about dinner. I’ll make it up to you.”
“That’s okay, George.” I glanced over at Charlie, who had finished going through my fridge and was now staring at a picture on the wall. Oh my God, it was the picture of me at twelve with my mom and Doug, one of her early boyfriends. I was in braces and had “Felicity curls” like Keri Russell in the late 90s TV show. I think I also had a mild case of acne. “You’ll have to let me ring the cash register a few more times.”
“You got it. Thanks, habibi. I owe you one.”
I hung up with George, the endearment ringing in my ear, and glanced at Charlie. “May I ask why you were searching through my cupboards?”
He turned to look at me, but instead of answering, he asked another question. “What do you eat? Your cupboards are as bare as a baby’s bottom.”
“Nice analogy,” I said on a sigh. “I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping.”
As if on cue, my stomach made a loud, gurgling sound. I glanced down at it self-consciously.
“Poor stomach. Looks like it won’t be getting any shish kebab tonight,” Charlie said, walking to the door. “C’mon, I’ll take you to dinner.” He grabbed my leather jacket from where it lay on the kitchen chair and tossed it at me.
My alter ego stood up and waved her pompoms in the air. I ignored her. Charlie and dinner spelled danger. Like chocolate donuts. “Oh…well…you don’t have to do that. I’ll order a pizza.”
Charlie eyed me. “I thought you wanted shish kebab?”
“Correction. I wanted George’s shish kebab.”
“Well, I don’t know any Lebanese joints anyway. But I do know a great Asian restaurant.”
Boy, for being new to town, the man sure knew his way around. What are you waiting for? Take him up on the offer. Live a little! My alter ego urged me to accept his invitation, while the saner part begged me to reconsider. Charlie finally convinced me by appealing to my practical, money-conscious side.
“C’mon, it’s the least I can do to return the favor. You look at the numbers, I’ll treat you to dinner. An even trade.” He held out a hand.
I thought about it a moment more, but it was tough to argue against his logic. I deserved a dinner. It was the smart way to ensure payment. I’d just have to make sure dinner was all I got. “All right, deal,” I said, with a firm shake and another reminder to watch myself around Charlie.
I followed him out the door and down to the parking lot where a shiny black BMW sat outside my apartment. “Nice wheels,” I said as I slid into the passenger seat.
“This is Nick.”
The way he said it, like it was a real person, had me looking around anxiously for a hidden passenger. “Nick is…your car?
He nodded, pulled out onto the ma
in drag, and turned left.
“You name your cars?”
“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”
I shook my head from side to side. “No, I’m pretty sure sane people don’t name their cars.”
He flashed me a sexy grin. “Yeah, well, that explains a lot.”
“For me, too. Only an insane person would work at Reynolds on a temporary assignment.”
“We’re back to that again?”
I shrugged. “Don’t you worry about where your next paycheck will come from?”
“Nope. I like a change of scenery. I get bored easily. I try not to stay at any one place for too long.” He stopped at a red light and turned to look at me. “What about you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, I’d love a change of scenery, too, but like most Americans, I need to earn a living.”
The light changed and he took off, turning from Detroit Avenue and onto Chestnut Lane. “Why do you worry about money?” He said it casually, like we were talking about a good night’s sleep or drinking enough water.
“I don’t worry about it, but I can always use some extra cash. Like I said, me and everyone else I know.”
He pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant called Lenny’s, his BMW gliding smoothly over the potholes in the parking lot. I’d passed Lenny’s a few times before but had never been inside. “This is Asian cuisine?” I asked, staring at the sign on the wall with a logo depicting what looked to be two pigs taking a bath.
He laughed as he turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. “Nope. That Asian restaurant I mentioned is in New York. This is all American but just as good. C’mon, you’ll like it.”
Lenny’s, it turned out, was a barbecue. Good thing I liked pulled pork. Bad I was on a diet. Good they had salad on the menu. Bad I watched Charlie scarf down a giant pulled pork sandwich in front of me.
He barely said a word after our orders came, just dug into his dinner, a rapturous expression on his face. The man liked his food.
I sighed and took a bite of hard-boiled egg, all the while smelling pulled pork. I found if I sniffed hard enough, I could almost pretend I was eating some. Almost.
“Open your mouth.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t argue, just do it.” Charlie stabbed a glob of pulled pork on the fork he hadn’t touched and held it out to me. “C’mon, one bite won’t hurt you. I can’t stand looking at you any longer, those giant eyes of yours full of longing. Enjoy one bite.”
“You were looking at your food, not at me,” I said, but I found myself dutifully opening my mouth. Charlie wasted no time, shoveling a mouthful of the delicious pork onto my tongue. “Mmmm.”
The tangy barbecue sauce and tender meat had me closing my eyes to savor the taste. I would never tell George, but this pork rivaled his shish kabobs. Charlie was wrong. One bite was not what I needed. One bite made me long for so much more. I opened my eyes to find him watching me, his expression serious.
“What?” I picked up my napkin and wiped my lips self-consciously.
“Don’t let him get to you, Val.”
Funny, I knew exactly who he was talking about. Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m… I won’t.”
“Then how come you were sending off resumes?”
“What… I… Damn it! Why were you snooping?”
“I wasn’t snooping. You left your resume in plain sight. I couldn’t help but see it.”
“You snooped. And my resume has nothing to do with Seth. I was…updating it.”
“You’re good at your job. Don’t let the asshole who screwed you over win. Stick around and show him you’re made of tougher stuff.”
Charlie was right. Why was I running away from Seth and Deirdre? I had done nothing wrong. It was those two who should be embarrassed to show their faces in front of me. Still, the thought of seeing Seth and Deidre together again… I gulped and reached for my water glass.
“Val, Larry Reynolds needs you right now. I need you. If you leave, it’s going to take me a hell of a lot longer to figure out where the money has been going and why. Please try to stick around. At least for the next six months while we figure this out. From what Julie tells me, her brother has a lot on his plate. Chances are, you’ll hardly ever see him, right?”
“Yeah, I know but…”
“Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. You stick around and help me figure this out, I’ll see that you get my job when I leave.”
“And how are you going to manage that? Julie will do whatever she wants to. She’s not going to give me the job because you tell her to.”
“You let me worry about that. I’ll make sure you get the job. So, do we have a deal?”
I stared at him across the table, his blue eyes serious. A few blond hairs peeked out from the opening in his collared shirt. A fancy gold watch glittered on his wrist. I opened up my mouth to say no and heard myself say, “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Holy shit. Was I crazy? Charlie was grinning from ear to ear. “I knew the senior product manager position would do it.”
Senior product manager position? Is that why I had said yes? For a job? I gazed at Charlie’s dimples and knew with certainty the senior product manager position was not the reason I had said yes. Not by a long shot.
Chapter Seven
“I don’t believe it. I don’t believe my George is listening to that…that charmouta.” Yasmine Haddad waved her hands in the air as if she could make Bernie magically disappear. I didn’t dare ask what a charmouta was. I had stopped at the barbershop over my lunch break on hump day as a surprise for George, only to learn that he had left thirty minutes earlier to meet up with Bernie. I should have called ahead. Surprises never worked for me.
Yasmine was still talking. “You watch that girl. You mark my words, she’s after George. I mean, what could she possibly tell my son he doesn’t already know?”
Yasmine didn’t wait for me to answer.
“She’s a meddler. That’s what she is. She’s already convinced him and his father to change the store’s name. Did you know that?”
“Yes, actually, I did.”
Yasmine continued on as if she hadn’t heard me, pacing the shop floor. “And now she has the audacity to tell me how to run my business. Can you believe it? That girl has some nerve.”
“Well, actually…” Don’t go there. My alter ego sent a warning, but I couldn’t stop myself. My insides got all prickly whenever Yasmine criticized Bernie. “In all fairness, George did ask her for Bernie’s help with his business. Besides she and I are friends. She’s unlikely to make off with George.”
Yasmine puffed herself up, drawing in a sharp breath and opening her mouth like a bird going after a worm. Why did I feel like the worm?
“What time did he say he would be back?” I asked, deflecting her beak.
“He didn’t. But I told him only to be gone an hour. Maybe you should try to track them down.” It wasn’t a question.
“Where did they go?” I asked out of curiosity. I wasn’t planning on chasing after them as Yasmine wanted. But I did hope they were meeting in neutral territory.
Yasmine waved her hands toward the door, a long strand of her dark hair with them. “George didn’t say. But you know all the places your friend likes. You could call George and meet them wherever they are.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary.” I backpedaled, my hand on the door. Yasmine could be persuasive when she wanted to be. I didn’t relish the thought of getting caught in her nest…I mean net. The bird analogy had stayed with me. “I have to get back to my job. I only have an hour.”
“All right.” She sniffed, giving me a stern look. “Be forewarned. Friend or no, that girl is up to no good. I don’t want her sinking her claws into my son.”
I left the shop, Yasmine’s warning ringing in my ears. You would think after all the business with Seth, I would be paranoid about George. But if there was one human being in this world I could trust, he was it.
Still, I couldn’t den
y I was disappointed not to see him. We had talked a few times since the weekend, but hadn’t been together since I got the news about Seth. Ever since my dinner with Charlie, I was irritable. I needed George. His calm, steady presence. His bear hugs. His shish kebabs. We could talk about the future, firm up our plans. I could forget about Seth and Deirdre’s visit and Charlie and his bargains. I would feel safe again.
Since I didn’t have George, I did the next best thing. I made mental calculations in my head on my way back to the office. This was a game I played. I found the predictable addition soothing. I counted twenty-two streets, eight lights, four stop signs, and two donut shops between Haddad’s and Reynolds. I was in the middle of counting step number fifty-two from my car to the office doors when I caught sight of Charlie. As usual, my heartbeat went into overdrive.
He was walking into the building and didn’t see me. Thank God. After our last meeting, I was beginning to think I would promise Charlie anything he wanted, and that wasn’t good. Was it? No, of course it wasn’t.
I took my time entering the building and made sure to take the elevator since I knew Charlie was in the habit of taking the stairs. I used to be a stair climber, too, all 108 of them, but gave up the habit at the thought of huffing and puffing up six flights of stairs only to encounter Charlie.
I entered the elevator and the doors were beginning to close when a woman thrust a pink-clad arm inside and waved it from side to side. The doors opened and the rest of her stepped through. I watched in horror as the elevator doors closed behind Deirdre.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, as if we had parted yesterday, and I had never caught her naked with my fiancé. “How’ve you been? You’re looking good. Like you’ve lost weight.”
She was dressed in a pink pantsuit. Gold dangling earrings hung in her ears and she clutched a Prada purse. Someone had taken a giant step up in the world since we had shared our last package of ramen noodles. A large princess-cut diamond glittered on her ring finger. They were engaged. The truth settled on me like a straitjacket. I struggled to breathe. I will not have a panic attack. I will NOT have a panic attack.
I had known this moment would come. Had prepared myself mentally, dreaming up perfectly timed put-downs. “Go to hell, slut,” I would say, before I walked away. Or, “Have you done any soul-searching since the last time I saw you? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have a soul.” Instead, I stared at Deirdre blankly. When I finally got my tongue to work, none of the pithy sayings I’d practiced came out. “How long are you in town?” I asked.
