by T. Torrest
“It’s not ‘nothing.’ Jeez. What the hell crawled up your butt today?”
“I’m sick.”
She grabbed the controller and hit pause before turning to face me. “It’s more than that. You were nice when I first got here, but to be honest, you’ve been a bit of a dick ever since.”
If she was looking for my full attention, that got it. I’d been distracted and short-fused all day, stewing in my own jealousy about Ainsley and projecting it onto Mia. I didn’t feel too good about that.
I sighed, finally raising my eyes to meet her gaze head-on. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
But instead of accepting my apology, she continued to stare me down. “And?”
“And what?”
“And are you going to tell me why?”
I ran a hand over my hair and shook my head at my lap. I didn’t know if I’d be crossing some line by bringing my personal problems into my professional life. It seemed I’d been doing that a lot this week, first by falling for Ainsley in the first place, then by confiding to Jared about it. Top it all off with the fact that I’d allowed Mia to come here and play nursemaid, and Jesus. You’d think I didn’t even know where the lines were anymore.
Mia was looking at me expectantly, waiting on my answer. Crossed lines or no, I became aware of my current reality: She deserved an explanation, she was volunteering to be my sounding board, and to tell you the truth, I kind of needed all the help I could get. “Fine. Look, I’ll tell you what’s going on but only because I need a woman’s opinion on this.”
“Gee, thanks. I feel so special,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I didn’t mean that. I’m just... I’m just glad you and I have become friendly enough that I can tell you this kind of stuff. I don’t have too many other people I can talk to.”
She seemed to like the sound of that as her face broke into a small, proud smile. “Okay, lay it on me.”
So I did. I told her all about Ainsley. From the first moment I met her, to the agony during every moment since. I told her about Rule Number Two and how I’d never date one of my clients while we were working together. I told her I didn’t think I had enough time to wait until our eight weeks were up because Ainsley had already set her sights on Blake Sperm-Face Atwood. I talked and I talked while Mia listened intently, nodding her head, measuring my every word.
I actually felt relieved at having purged the situation from my brain. It felt great to be able to trust her with this.
When I was through, I looked at her and said, “So that’s it. I just don’t know where I am with this whole thing.”
I was waiting for some Dalai Lama-type enlightenment from her, some perfect female wisdom to make sense of this whole mess.
“Huh,” she finally said, raising her brows. “I guess you like blondes, too.”
Definitely not the reaction I was expecting. I snickered as I said, “Correction: I like blondes. I love this particular blonde.”
Mia’s eyes went wide. “Wait. You really think you’re in love with her? After only a few weeks?”
“How long is it supposed to take?”
“I don’t know. Good point. I guess when it’s right, it’s right. Right?” Her face fell as she mulled it over.
I was flattered by her reaction. Kinda sweet that she was taking my stupid love life to heart. I couldn’t contain my smirk as I asked, “So, what do you think I should do?”
Mia bit her lip and gave a shrug. It felt like an eternity before she finally looked up to meet my eyes. “Sorry to say, mamoa. But I think your only move here is to tell her.”
WEEK FOUR: POSITIVITY
Dental visit
Smiling practice, eye contact
CHAPTER TWENTY
After forty-eight hours of soup and about a dozen Airborne tablets, I was feeling a hundred times better than I had over the weekend.
I’d done a lot of thinking the past two days, an easy enough activity in which to indulge, seeing as I was confined to my sickbed the entire time.
Mia had given me some good advice to chew over, and chew it I did. I came to the same conclusion that she had. She was right. I needed to step up my game.
I was about to break Rule Number Two.
I wouldn’t normally even consider it, but Ainsley wasn’t just any normal girl.
The fact of the matter was, I needed to get her to fall for me. Not an easy thing to do when I was so hellbent on keeping things professional. But I’d started to think that maybe if I played things just right, she’d realize she wouldn’t have to go “husband hunting” after all. Maybe she’d realize that the perfect guy was right in front of her this whole time.
Don’t get me wrong. This sure as hell isn’t me saying that I was looking to get married—hell no, not a chance, not going to happen. I’m just saying that if push came to shove, I might be open to the idea of at least thinking about it.
Maybe.
Possibly.
But first things first.
I had to get her to fall for me before she could get Atwood to notice her. And I couldn’t very well do it without breaking a few of my hard and fast rules. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
I’d been a mooning dope for weeks. That wasn’t me. I’d done a ton of work on myself to turn into the hot, confident guy I am today, and yet I’d never let Ainsley see past the surface. My carefully cultivated persona. My default act. Within one minute of meeting Ainsley Carrington, I’d reverted back into the loser geek from my past, second-guessing every move that I made. When I wasn’t acting like a fawning idiot, I was playing robot, and I couldn’t even decide which was worse.
Enough was enough. It was time to get serious. It was time to play the game.
It was time to break out... Bruce.
Now. Before you can laugh at me, I’ll explain that I’m fully aware that Bruce is a stupid name for an alter ego. But in my defense, I came up with it when I was fourteen. Bruce Wayne was the Jekyll to Batman’s Hyde, and we all know how much I liked to think of myself as Batman.
As a superhero, he was a total badass, but behind the mask, Bruce Wayne was a total ladykiller. Dude was smooth when it came to the chicks, and I needed all the inspiration I could get if I was going to make Ainsley mine.
She liked it when I flirted? Fine. She was going to get the full force of Lucas Taggart in all his swaggering glory. I knew how to turn wallflowers into confident women, but I could also reduce them to puddles of mush, too. Bruce had the power to make that happen. By the time we were through, she wouldn’t even remember who the hell Blake Clownstick Atwood was.
“Great job, Ains,” I said as she released the lat bar.
She slumped forward on the workout bench and took a few deep breaths. I tried to play it cool as I straddled the bench behind her and gave a friendly massage to her shoulders. “You worked hard today. You’re going to be feeling this one tomorrow.”
She sat up a bit straighter and turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. “Mmm. I’m already feeling it now.”
Thankfully, there were a few inches between us on that bench. My voice dropped to ask, “You ready to hear about this week’s homework?”
Ainsley nodded as she swallowed hard, clearly affected by my smooth delivery. Way to go, Bruce.
I stopped rubbing her shoulders and gave her ponytail a playful tug. “Eye contact. You need to practice. At any time you need to speak to someone over the next forty-eight hours—I’m talking waiters, front desk managers, any person you pass in this very lobby—you will do so while making eye contact.”
She turned sideways on the bench to look at me. “Okay. I think I can do that.”
“I know you can.” I lowered my voice, somewhere between an authoritative tenor and a hoarse whisper as I met her gaze. “Start making it a habit. Look at people when you’re speaking to them. Recognize that you’re worthy of their full attention.”
“I don’t like full attention. Full attention allows someone to see every fl
aw.”
“Your second assignment,” I amended immediately, “will be to make eye contact with yourself.”
“Pardon?”
“You will spend a full five minutes in front of the mirror every day looking yourself in the eyes.”
“Like, just staring at myself?”
“No, not just staring. You will find at least one good thing to say about the person looking back at you. And you’ll write that thing down in your journal.” I slid closer as Bruce swiped a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s plenty of good to see. You just need to open your eyes.”
Ainsley tried not to fidget as she stammered, “Okay. I can do that.”
I chucked her under her chin. “Atta girl.”
She broke our gaze to grab for her towel. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” I answered, shooting her a wink.
“Are you sure you’re over your cold? Your voice is really scratchy today.”
Shit. I cleared my throat and answered, “Uh yeah. Just some residual aftermath, I guess.”
“At least you sound better today than you did yesterday.” Her focus dropped to my lips as she added, “You’ll get over it soon enough.”
Doubt it. Just the sight of her half-lidded eyes staring at my mouth was enough to shred me. What the hell was going on here? I was supposed to be taking the upper hand today. With one sultry look, Ainsley had completely turned the tables on me.
Screw the smooth talking. I could barely find any voice as I said, “Okay. I think that’s enough for one day.”
Thanks for nothing, Bruce.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I’d been doing my relaxation exercises pretty regularly. Thus far, they hadn’t been doing much good. I wasn’t able to bring back any profound memories, but it kept the nightmares at bay and helped me to fall asleep a little easier every night, so I kept up with them.
But this morning, I had another vivid dream. One I’d never had before. I thought that maybe there was a chance that it was a memory.
I got myself ready and headed down the hall to the kitchen. My father was in his usual spot at the table, reading The Wall Street Journal, his dark hair the only part of him not hidden behind the newspaper.
“Hey Pop?”
“Yeah?”
“I uh... I had another one of my dreams this morning.”
My father put down his paper and finally met my eyes. “You okay?” He knew that my dreams were normally kinda fucking traumatizing whenever I had them.
“No, not that one,” I said, putting his mind at ease. “This was a new one. It felt the same, though. Like it was a memory, you know?”
He did know. I’d explained the phenomenon to him years ago. Sometimes, my dreams were just dreams. Other times, they offered glimpses into my real life. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, I could always tell the difference.
“Oh?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.
I leaned back against the counter and tapped my fingertips on the granite. “Did we have a dog when I was little?”
“A dog?”
“Yeah. A German Shepherd.”
He gave a snap to his newspaper and redirected his attention toward it. “No. I haven’t had a dog since I was five. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I saw one in my sleep. I was rolling around on a red rug with a German Shepherd. I just didn’t know if it was a dream or a memory.”
He snickered as he said, “You must have fallen asleep watching Lassie.”
“That’s a collie.”
“Rin-Tin-Tin, then.”
I tried to contain my smirk as I shot back, “You know, Pop, it’s two-thousand-sixteen. They actually make some shows in full color these days.”
He didn’t even look up as he hurled a croissant at me.
I caught it, laughing as I took a bite. “I gotta run. Thanks for breakfast.”
* * *
“I cant kalk ih ih hing in.”
Mia’s mumbling pulled my attention from the gum-disease poster I’d been inspecting. Gross.
I turned toward her prone form, lounged out in the dentist’s chair, her mouth in a plastic brace. “What?”
Her eyes rolled as she yelled, “I CANT KALK IH IH HING IN!”
I finally comprehended what Mia was trying to tell me. “You’re not supposed to be able to talk with that thing in, dopey.”
Mia let out with a frustrated huff as I settled back into my chair in the corner of the office. I pulled out my phone to play some Virus Buster, trying to kill some time.
Mia, however, didn’t have much patience for silence. “I’n ored out a ny nind.”
“You’re bored?” I shot back. “I’m the one who has to sit here and watch your teeth get whiter.”
“Are ay?”
I craned my neck in an attempt to take a look at her mouth. It was hard to gauge any changes while her teeth were glowing purple under the ultraviolet light. “I can’t tell yet.”
Ever since last weekend when Mia came over to take care of me on my deathbed, our dynamic had drastically changed. For the better. There was always an easy camaraderie between us, but now we shared a special friendship, too.
I didn’t beat myself up too badly about it. Yeah, I may have crossed over some invisible, self-imposed line, but who cared? I liked having her around. I’d grown accustomed to her face, as it were. We were comfortable with each other. Maybe it was because I didn’t automatically think about taking her to bed every minute. I don’t know. I’d never really had a real friendship with any woman to compare, but if all those goopy romcoms on my television were to be believed, the sex thing usually got in the way.
That’s not to say that I never thought about it. I’d taken her Zumba class for the first time last week. It was embarrassing; I was barely able to keep up. But watching Mia’s hot dancing was worth the humiliation. She was right—we definitely had fun together.
Actually, we had fun no matter what we did. She even made hanging out in this stupid dentist’s office entertaining. Yeah, I was still upset about Ainsley but I could compartmentalize like nobody’s business. Plus Mia helped to keep me grounded about the whole thing. A godsend while I was already stressed out about keeping so many other plates spinning in the air. I had Jared’s final week to prep for, Mia’s and Ainsley’s fourth. I had follow-up appointments with Dr. Mandelbaum to schedule in between tasks and working out with all three of my clients, plus I had to meet with two new ones in the coming weeks.
If I ever switched jobs, I could easily add “juggler” to my resume.
But right now, I had to get Mia out of that chair so we could make it to our next appointment in time. Her office was closed for two days due to Rosh Hashanah, so it was nice being able to tackle some of our assignments during the daytime without her having to give up her entire weekend.
She never seemed to mind, though.
* * *
We pulled up in front of WPZU studios in Brooklyn. The place was nothing more than a boring, squat, concrete cube with a huge antenna tower surrounded by a dirt lot and a chainlink fence.
I cut the engine as Mia stared out the front windshield. “You keep bringing me to these decrepit shitholes, and I’m going to be asking for a refund.”
I snickered as I exited the car, came around to her side, and held my hand out toward her. “Wouldst the lady be so amiable as to accompany me into said decrepit shithole?”
She laughed and shook her head as she slipped her hand in mine and exited the car. I walked her toward the entrance and buzzed to be let in.
“What is this place? What are we even doing here?” she asked.
“Patience, m’lady. You’ll find out soon enough.”
We were cleared for entry, so we pulled the heavy steel door open and stepped into the lobby, a bare-bones space with a few cheap chairs and bad lighting. A gum-snapping twenty-something occupied the front counter, her jean-clad legs crossed on top of the desk as she played on her phone. She blew a bubble in Mia’
s direction and asked, “You here for the interview?”
Mia had no idea how to respond, so I answered for her. “She sure is.”
“Good. Harry was getting pretty bored back there. He’s in the studio. Straight toward the back.”
Mia waited until we were halfway through the building before asking, “Interview? I already have a job, remember?”
“Of course. Just not one that requires you to smile the entire time.”
She looked about ready to pull the jugular out of my neck. “What the hell is this, Taggart?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer, because Harry had come over to greet us. “Four o’clock! Right on time. You must be Mia Cruz.” Harry shook Mia’s hand enthusiastically as I tried not to bust out laughing. “And you must be Luke?”
“Sure am, Harry. Nice to meet you.”
“Thank you both for coming in. So, Mia,” he directed toward my unsuspecting client. “I’m hoping Luke has already filled you in about our hiring timeline. We’re merely putting out some feelers right now. You’re aware that the job won’t be available for a few more months, yes?”
“Uh, yes. Of course,” she answered convincingly.
“Sadly, our Marnie will be leaving us in the spring to have her baby.”
“Oh, won’t that be nice.”
I had to stifle my laugh at Mia’s professional tone. She had no idea what she was in for.
“Your agent here has already told me all about you, so why don’t we just get down to it?” Harry led us toward the soundstage, a collection of lights and cameras angled toward a large, blank backdrop, asking, “How long have you wanted to be a weather girl?”
Mia caught a glimpse of the green screen on the camera’s monitor, and finally put two and two together. And God bless her, instead of running screaming out of the building, she played along. “Oh, ever since I was a little girl. I’ve always been fascinated by... uh... rain.”
“Well we certainly get enough of it here in New York, right?” Harry said, heading for one of the cameras.
