Taken By Surprise (Taken Trilogy Book 1)

by Jessica Frances

  Zee is a nickname that Dana calls me, usually when she’s upset or I am. It’s like a security blanket for me and a call that she really needs me when she uses it. When we first met and decided that we would be best friends, we thought that we should have a nickname for each other, just between us, because everyone who’s loved and has friends has a nickname; or so we thought at the age of six. So we went with the obvious choices of Zee and Dee. Hers never really stuck, but mine comes out every once in a while.

  “This is going to hurt business, not help it. He wouldn’t listen to me at all, either. He just said he would be back in a month and there better be some improvement.”

  I clasp her hand. “Look, he probably woke up feeling unimportant today and decided he wanted to feel like he did something. Don’t worry about it.”

  “What do I do, though? He wants more sales. We’ve been consistently selling around the same amount every week. That used to make him happy, but now he needs more!” Another large gulp of beer. I’ve barely touched mine and, since no-one likes warm beer, I also take a large mouthful of my own.

  “Well, I don’t know when the last time I read a book was, so I’ll definitely need a few. I mean, did you know I own a book shelf that’s full of stuff? It’s called a book shelf, I definitely think I should honor the name and put some books on it.”

  Dana smiles at me, one that I of course can’t help smiling back to.

  “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure if you will be able to buy enough books to really make much difference.”

  “Ah, but I know people. I shall spread the word to my minions and they shall flood your store!”

  She rolls her eyes at me, but she obviously decides to indulge me. “Okay, let’s say that works, all it’ll do is make business good while they come and then go back down once they’re gone.”

  “Well, I know I don’t have customers in quite the same way you do, however correct me if I’m wrong, aren’t you supposed to give them such great service that they want to come back to you again and again?”

  “Oh, shut up!” Again the smile and again I smile back. We finish off our beers, grab new ones and move over to a couch where we can sit more comfortably. I never quite liked beer when I first started drinking, but Dana did, so I got used to drinking it very quickly.

  “Cheer me up and tell me how things were with Joel today.”

  Joel is a guy I work with in my office. In fact, the only person I work with in my office. We’ve barely talked since he started a couple weeks earlier, although he is so incredibly hot that he has come up often in my talks with Dana. I always get a strange feeling around him, as though something is off with him, but the first time we met I forgot my own name. From that moment on, most things I say to him become constant amusement for Dana and me later. I just can’t help making a fool out of myself in front of him. Bizarrely, he seems just as awkward as I am, which I find really surprising.

  I’m not horrible looking, I know, yet I’m definitely not in the same league as Joel. There is no reason for him to be shy. He’s athletic looking with broad shoulders, at least two feet taller than me and, embarrassingly, I have been lost in his light blue eyes more times than I care to admit. That is also a problem because, when I do lose myself, it often takes me a few moments to realize I’ve stopped functioning, but he of course hasn’t; so he must think I’m a crazy weirdo while I openly gawk at him, which is what happened today.

  “Things today were quiet, although I did nearly fall off my chair when he caught me staring at him.” I laugh with Dana as I remember leaning back in my chair, staring at him while his chair was turned towards me and he looked over a file in his hands. I found myself mesmerized and then he suddenly looked up at me. Flustered at being caught, I nearly fell backwards and only just managed to grab hold of my desk in time. It had been very embarrassing; my cheeks were burning and I made sure to avoid glancing anywhere in his direction for the rest of the day.

  “That is hilarious.” Dana smiles at me again and I’m glad her worries about Hank and the bookstore seem to be in the past for now. My thoughts, however, circle back to where they’ve been since I woke up from my dream this morning.

  “I have a hypothetical question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Say you found out you only have two weeks to live; what would you do?” I take a swig of beer to disguise my suddenly shaky hands. My emotions have been running high since this morning and I don’t want Dana to suspect anything is wrong. I still feel like I’m in a constant state of panic, not knowing what to do.

  “That’s kind of morbid. What made you think of that?”

  I try to keep my face impassive. “It’s just a random question. Would you go away? Would you jump out of a plane? What would you spend your final two weeks doing?”

  “Hm.” Dana puts her beer down on the table between us and looks away as she thinks about her answer. “I suppose I would fight to have longer, two weeks is no time at all, but since this is just a hypothetical and, given the fact that no one would really be aware of something like that, I would just want to spend as much time with you and Drew as I could.”

  “Really? No crazy overseas trips? No death defying acts?”

  “I suppose I would want to reread Jane Austen and maybe try to fit in every Jodi Picoult novel, too.”

  “Books? You would want to sit around and read books?”

  “They’re classics, Zoe, if you had read them you would know that. Why? What would you do with your last two weeks?”

  I shrug. It’s a question I have been pondering all day and I still don’t have any clear answers.

  “Dana! Zoe!” someone calls from over near the bar and we look over to see Drew waving madly. He points at our drinks and puts two fingers in the air. We both shake our heads no. A couple of drinks, every couple days when we meet at MAY is usually enough for us. It gets busy here after a few hours and we’re ready to call it a night by then.

  Drew quickly catches up with his brother Sam before he heads over and then collapses himself down next to Dana, draping his arm around her shoulder. They exchange a quick kiss, smile and then both go back to drinking. He’s tall, lanky and his sandy blonde hair always hangs around his face; it never seems to grow long enough for him to put it behind his ears. Dana has a thing for guys with long hair and I think this is as far as Drew is willing to go. Drew is the same age as us, though he looks like he’s in his late twenties; the glasses he always wears make him appear older. Once, when he was seventeen, he thought he would see if he would get asked for ID going into a club and no one questioned him.

  “How was your day?” Dana asks Drew, resting her hand on his knee.

  Drew moans and takes another gulp of his beer. It’s funny how alike they both are. “I’ll be happy if I never see another number again.”

  Drew is studying to be an accountant.

  “That bad?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Some days things add up like they’re meant to and some days they don’t. Today was the latter.”

  We sit at MAY talking until the hour is up and the place is so crowded as well as stuffy that hearing each other is becoming harder and harder. We stand out front of the main entrance and load on our layers as the chilly wind tries to invade our bodies. Ever since Drew and Dana moved in together a year ago, I have caught the bus alone. They invited me to live with them in their two bedroom apartment. I know they meant it and I know it wouldn’t have been weird because we love each other too much for me to feel like a third wheel, but this was something exciting and new for them. They needed to do it alone. So I stayed living out in the suburbs with a forty minute bus ride into work and the same to get back home. Drew and Dana, on the other hand, catch a bus for ten minutes and it stops directly one block from where they live.

  “So, I’ll see you on Wednesday for a drink?” Dana asks as she tries to help Drew fix the collar on his jacket that is sticking up at the back.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you then, but in t
he meantime, I’ll be spreading the word.”

  “The word about what?” Drew asks while patting Dana’s hand away from his collar and straightening it out himself.

  “The word about the best bookstore in town. Have you not heard about it, Drew? It’s only two blocks from here and the service you get is amazing!” I give Dana an enthusiastic, over the top, thumbs up and she laughs at my antics. “Just practicing; what do you think?”

  “It’s maybe a little too much, Zoe.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll work on it.” I hug them both and wave to them as I step onto my bus. They always wait for me to catch my bus before they catch their own, which leaves from the other side of the road. They say it’s just to keep me company while I wait, however I know it’s because they don’t want me to be left alone at night in the city.

  I lean my head against the window and think about Dana’s answer to my earlier question. She would spend time with Drew and me and, if it was possible, she would fight against only having two weeks left. Was that what I should do? Should I spend more time with Mom? More time with Dana? Should I simply make sure I never have a party? Or perhaps try and find myself a man? The only guy that I think I might be even remotely interested in at the moment is Joel. Maybe I should attempt to talk to him at work without making a total idiot of myself?

  ***

  Wednesday comes around quickly and I again find myself staring at Joel. Even though I have wondered if I should try to move things forward with him, I’ve been way too chicken to actually make a move. Deep down, I know I won’t. I’ll merely make an idiot out of myself and my remaining week and a half will end right there in mortification.

  Joel was hired a few weeks ago to help me convert the files onto the computer. There were thousands and my boss was only on maternity leave for six more months.

  Joel is ridiculously attractive with an air of confidence about him. He always wears fitted suits and looks like he has just left some model shoot before work. While he is nice to look at, he’s not much for conversation. Actually, I’m not normally one for conversation, so maybe I’m setting the mood. I just can’t help staring at him sometimes. He’s tall, has dark hair that sits perfect no matter how much it rains outside; sometimes my fingers itch to run my hands through it. His eyes are always intense and I often lose myself in a fantasy at work where he would grab me and pull me into an embrace, his eyes lost in my own. Often, after these moments, I’m unable to even glance his way for long periods of time while I wait for my blushing cheeks to subside. A small, paranoid part of me fears he can somehow see what I’m thinking just by looking at me.

  The most annoying thing about him, though, is that I’ve found myself liking him even though the only thing I know about him is that he’s good looking. I’ve always detested people who chose a person based on looks rather than personality and I vowed never to become one of them, yet here I am, acting like a giggly schoolgirl all because, working behind me, is possibly the hottest guy I have ever seen. It also doesn’t help that he smells so good. Every day, he walks into our small office and every day, I’m overwhelmed by his cologne. Whatever it is, it smells divine.

  He’s never brought anything personal into the office like a photo of a girlfriend, therefore I still can’t be sure about that. I often sense his eyes on my back, but when I turn to look at him, he’s never looking near me. Although I’ve seen him chatting with the girls at the front desk.

  Those girls are all blonde, skinny and fake—fake tan, fake bleach blonde hair and they all wear way too much makeup. At lunch they all munch on celery sticks like it’s the most delicious thing ever and they always have a phony smile plastered across their faces when they speak to the lawyers. Their high pitched voices grate on my nerves and their laugh makes me think of nails scratching on a chalk board. I hate how false they are and I refuse to get sucked in.

  Joel apparently doesn’t mind it. I think he might have even gone on a date with one of them. That is the rumor anyway. I try not to listen to them, but sometimes when you’re in the lunch room things are said that you can’t help overhearing. I’m probably biased because, when I first started working here, I overheard them all gossiping about me. It’s strange to be gossiped about; in the past I wasn’t important enough to be talked about. My wonder was short lived when I heard what they were saying.

  I know that I’m short, too skinny and plain. I wish I had long legs. I yearn to be naturally tanned. I long for sexy curves and have an overwhelming desire that there be something interesting about me. However, I don’t have any of those things. I’m plain, boring Zoe. I always have been and I feel comfortable in long skirts or pants. I don’t flaunt myself because I don’t think I have anything to flaunt. So when I listened to them all talking about how horribly I dress and how I really should be wearing make-up to fix the natural dark rings under my eyes or more jewelry to take the attention off my flat, boring, straight hair, I took offense. I wanted to jump out from around the corner and yell that they all were horrible people. Instead, I couldn’t face the humiliation of causing a scene and having to tell anyone else what they’d said. So I left work early and cried to Dana about it. From then on, they were known to me only as the blonde fakes.

  As I’m leaving work, I see a message on my cell from Dana, cancelling our catch-up for that night. I’m disappointed we aren’t going to meet up since, if I do decide to believe my dream, then my time with Dana is limited. Plus, now I’ll just be going home to an empty house. Mom is a workaholic and the earliest she is ever home is ten at night. How am I supposed to spend more time with her when I can’t even get a few minutes with her?

  The message from Dana does remind me about what I’m meant to be doing for her sales, though. A smile flits across my lips as I walk out into the foyer and pause to watch the blonde fakes sitting at their desk, talking in loud, high-pitched voices. I overhear them talking about one of the junior associates asking fake blonde with the bright-pink, talon-like nails out for a drink and how she turned him down by telling him she couldn’t be seen socializing with someone like him in public.

  My blood boils at how horrible they all are. So I take several deep breaths and then walk up to them and lean on the desk, interrupting their animated conversation. I have to blink several times as my eyes water from the fumes of perfume rolling off them. How can they even breathe in this?

  “Can we help you with something?” one of the blonde fakes asks me. Under her breath, she mutters, “Perhaps with some fashion tips?” They all smirk at each other and I try to hold back my glare. It’s better for me if they think I didn’t hear her.

  “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that a friend of mine works over at this bookstore a few blocks away and it’s awesome. It’s called A Novel Idea on Spring Lane.”

  “Why are you telling us?” the blonde with the pink nails asks. She has a blank look on her face, as if the idea of reading makes her brain hurt. I know books won’t be an in with these girls, however I have a plan.

  “There is this really hot guy that works there. Like Chris Evans hot. And he’s recently single. I promised him I would send some prospects his way to cheer him up. I thought you girls might like to go check him out.”

  “Chris Evans? As in the actor?” I have their attention now.

  “Yep, and a good way to get him to notice you is to buy books. He loves a girl who reads.” I struggle to keep a straight face.

  “What’s his name?” Another blonde fake pipes up.

  “Tim. He works every weekday, all day.”

  “Why haven’t you gone for him? Why tell us about him?” This one sounds suspicious, although I see a smirk behind her eyes.

  “He’s just a friend, like a brother. I could never date him.” I start to turn away, but blonde fake with the nails is being persistent.

  “What about Joel? Is he just a friend? You guys spend all day together in that office, most times with the door closed.”

  I discreetly roll my eyes at her. Like they even h
ave to worry about that; Joel is out of my league and they already think I look plain and boring. Why do they think Joel would disagree?

  “Trust me; he’s all yours.”

  I turn around and walk out, hearing them say thanks to me as I leave. I hope it’s enough to get them into the store. I’m sure they’re at least interested and Tim won’t disappoint. Well, not when they see him, but he will disappoint them when they expect him to ask them out because he most certainly won’t. He’ll definitely disappoint them if they have the courage to ask him out because, although he did just end a relationship, it was with his boyfriend, Peter.

  Chapter Three – The Guy

  Friday, March 30th

  As I arrive at work on Friday, I try unsuccessfully to close my umbrella, but it takes only one strong gust of wind to turn it inside out. It’s the end of March, although in Boston, it might as well still be December. It’s freezing and even though it’s generally always cold around my birthday, it isn’t usually this cold. The weather all around the country is doing strange things, however at least it’s staying cold. Last thing I want is for us to have some unusual heat wave. Now that would be horrible. I’ll take a below zero storm any day over a sweltering one. I struggle to get my umbrella folded back when a pair of strong hands unexpectedly helps pull it back into shape. I’m soaking wet by now and bringing the umbrella has ended up being pointless, but I’m grateful for the help. That is, until I see who is helping me.

  Joel.

  I don’t know what to say and, before I can think of something, he is already walking inside. He doesn’t bother to hold the door open for me and, when I walk in, he’s already past the blonde fakes, heading to our office. What is his problem?

  “Zoe!” blonde fake on the far right calls out to me. I step up to her, wondering what she could possibly have to say to me as I stand in front of their desk, shaking off my jacket, which is dripping wet. I don’t even care that I’m creating a puddle of water under me.