"She says that every time."
"Yeah, but this was the first time you told me she said it."
"Oh, so that makes it different?"
"Yes," he said. "Now it's my responsibility to make sure you're ready."
I burned a lot of calories working out, so it wasn't necessarily that I was counting calories—Shane just swore that my body showed better when I was eating clean. I was almost sad I told him what Gail said, because I happened to be hungry for a burger and fries.
"Can't we just go through an In and Out burger?"
"Absolutely not. Did you talk to Gail about a ride? I'm not trying to pull up to the club in a cab."
"What's wrong with a cab? You too good to ride in a cab?" I asked.
"Isaac Charles doesn't roll up to the club in a big yellow hoopty."
"We don't have to call the hoopty," I said, teasing him. "We can splurge and get the minivan this time."
"Are we seriously taking a cab?"
"No. I talked to Gail before I fell asleep. She said she could hook up a driver for the night, but probably only for a few hours since it was short notice."
"What's he gonna be driving?"
I reached over and hit him on the back of the head as I always did. "I got a text from her while I was sleeping that said we'll have Carl from nine to midnight," I said, flashing him my phone.
"Are we going to that club she wrote down on the napkin?" he asked.
"I thought so, but not necessarily just to meet her. I've heard good things about that club."
He laughed. "You can't even commit to a one night stand anymore, dude."
"It's not that. If anything it's that I'm tired of them."
"Let's do it. Let's go to Major League and see what's up. If it sucks, we'll have Carl bring us somewhere else."
Chapter 7
Becca
I fell into a strict, disciplined routine during my fall term, and by the end of it, I'd lost fifty pounds. I went from squeezing into a 16 to slipping on a pair of 10's, which was what Naomi wore. I was officially able to borrow her clothes, and that was a great thing since I didn't want to buy all new stuff till I was done losing weight.
I wasn't far from where I wanted to be. My goal weight was 135, which meant I was only five pounds away. It didn't seem like five pounds would make much of a difference, and I often wondered if I'd be happy with the way I looked once I got there. I'd definitely changed, but I still had a fair amount of curves that I concealed with Spanx every time I got dressed up or put on workout clothes.
I loved every minute of my new path.
It felt great to set a goal and achieve it. I'd never really tried to be disciplined before—in any area. Instead, I'd just gone through life trying to figure out the fastest way to get my desired outcome, and once I obtained that outcome, I quit whatever it was I was doing.
With the help of my coach I was doing it differently this time. Mark wasn't just a coach. He was first and foremost a fitness guy, but he often talked about success in life and obtaining goals, and I felt inspired to use excellence in everything I did instead of just going through the motions. His positive attitude kept me focused and inspired, and I was immensely grateful to have landed in his class. I was, of course paying for a membership at the gym now, since my trial period had long-since run out. It was expensive, but as a result of my new routine, I made time to pick up a couple extra hotels each week. I was making more money and even better, making contacts in a business I loved more and more.
It was now December and nearing the end of my fall term at school. I was working thirty hours a week in addition to going to school and the gym, but it honestly didn't seem like a struggle.
I'd lost sight somewhat of the fact that the whole reason for me starting this journey was to make a better first impression on Isaac Charles. Don't get me wrong. I still checked Instagram on a fairly regular basis and didn't hesitate to like and/or stare at the photos he posted. But over time, the journey became less about him and more about me. Every once in a while I'd look back at the photo I took with him at the hotel that day. I tried not to dislike the bigger version of myself I saw in the picture, because somewhere in the back of my mind I thought I might look like that again one day.
Isaac Charles and that photo crossed my mind one random Saturday afternoon in mid December, and the thought of him made me open Instagram. I hadn't looked at it since breakfast, but noticed that the first post on my feed was one he'd just posted a few minutes before. It was a photograph of him with a beautiful blonde sitting on his lap and squeezing his guts out.
I was entirely used to seeing him in pictures with beautiful girls. That was nothing new to me. The part that had me dropping my jaw was the caption, which indicated that he was on his way to L.A.!
My heart began pounding and my palms immediately started sweating. I assumed he'd be staying in the same hotel, so I began making mental plans to go change one of the arrangements at The Crestwell within the next few days.
I had a lot of thoughts within the next few seconds, and one of the first things that crossed my mind was that I wasn't quite sure that I was ready for my big second, first impression just yet. I still had five pounds to go, and wasn't sure my confidence level was up for an attempt at running into him again.
I took a deep breath as I did a quick inventory of my feelings. There was only one thing to do. I dialed Naomi's number. "Hey, when are you coming over here?" I asked when I heard her pick up the phone.
"I'm like three minutes away. What's up?"
"That guy Isaac's on his way to L.A."
She was silent for a second. "Oh man, are you serious? Like right now?"
"I guess. The picture he posted looked like he was on a plane and said he was com—" I hesitated. "I don't know if I'll do anything about it. Just come over. I'll wait till you get here to talk to you."
"I'll see you in a sec."
I hung up with Naomi and a few minutes later she pulled up at the house. Uncle Greg wasn't ridiculously rich, but he made a good living at poker, and his house was roomy and nicely appointed with modern fixtures and furniture. He had a rock garden near the driveway and I was out there sitting on a big boulder when Naomi drove up.
"I can't believe it's your big moment!" she said, smiling as she got out of her car.
I scrunched up my face. "Don't say it like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it sounds really stalker-ish."
She leveled me with a stare and I sighed.
"It just feels weird to imagine that I started this whole thing for him—and I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I know I'm nowhere near the size of most of the girls he dates—not that I think I could get a date with him, I’m just saying…"
"You need to take it easy, Beck. You're not stalking anyone. You want to meet the guy and it's convenient that you know where he's staying so you can try to make that happen."
"Are you sure that's how it is? Because I want you to be honest with me if it's creepy of me to try to track him down after losing over fifty pounds."
She stared at me. "I seriously didn't even remember you were doing it for him until you said he was coming to L.A. just now. You're not a freak, Beck. You're just trying to say 'hi' to him or whatever."
"I don't even know if I'm good with where I'm at weight-wise."
She scrunched up her face. "Are you kidding? You must be crazy. You're so gorgeous, and you don't even know it, Beck. He'd be lucky to date you. Let's go to the mall to get you some new clothes and then let me do your hair and makeup."
Naomi sat on one of the boulders waiting for my response, and I stood and shuffled around on the smooth rocks, contemplating everything.
"Is it the first time he's been back since last summer?" she asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"Because I can't believe you're even thinking about it if you know you rarely get the chance to see him."
"I don't even know where he's staying."
"Why wouldn't
he be staying at the same hotel?"
"He might be," I said, shrugging.
"So call them."
I'd been holding my phone, so I turned it over and dialed the number to The Crestwell. I could tell it was a guy named Andre by the sound of his voice.
"It's a beautiful day at The Crestwell, how can I help you?" he asked.
"Is this Andre?"
"Yes ma'am, may I ask who I'm speaking with?"
"It's Becca Gibson. I work with Signet doing the flowe—"
"Of course, Becca, what can I do for you my dear?"
"Is Stan there by chance?"
"No, I'm afraid he's off today. Can I help you with something?"
"I guess I could have just asked you in the first place, it's just that Stan and I had talked about it the last time he came in, and I well, anyway; I was wondering if you knew if a guy named Isaac Charles had reservations there. I won't blame you if you're not supposed to—" He laughed, and I cut off.
"He's not staying here," he said. "And I know that because I heard Shelby saying she saw on the internet that he was coming to L.A., and was bummed out that he wasn't staying with us this time."
"Oh, so he's not?"
"Not this time, I'm afraid. You're talking about the cologne model guy, right?"
"Yeah."
"No, honey, sorry. Hearts are breaking all over this place tonight."
We both laughed, though mine was fake.
"Thanks Andre."
"Wish I had better news."
"No worries."
"Bye, dear."
"Bye."
I looked up at Naomi.
"That solves that problem," I said.
"What, he's not staying there?"
"Nope."
"So you're just giving up?"
"What do you mean? I'm not hunting him down, that's for sure. I wouldn't know how to do that in the first place."
"Maybe he wrote his plans on Instagram," she said. "Maybe he mentioned what he was doing or where he was staying in the comments."
"I think it's best if we call it off."
"Let's go to the mall and get you an outfit just in case you change your mind."
I went for it. I agreed to buy myself a new outfit with her direction. It was a pair of faded, torn, skinny jeans with a loose, pink sweater that had a shimmer to it and an interesting, asymmetrical neckline that showed the navy tank underneath. She picked out a pair of simple slip on shoes that were pink and navy striped. I loved the whole outfit. It was something I would have picked for myself, and I felt great in it.
I stared at my phone from the passenger's seat of Naomi's car on the way home from the mall. I opened Instagram and scrolled through the first twenty or so photos in my feed. There was nothing from Isaac since the one with the girl hugging him.
I kept scrolling down and noticed a photo Signet Indoor Landscapes posted. The company I worked for had an Instagram account and frequently posted photos we took of our work. I let out a little sarcastic laugh.
"What?" Naomi asked.
"I was just looking at this photo Signet posted of an arrangement I did at The Hilton. That girl Bethany I work with intentionally doesn't like my photos."
"You can't dislike something on Instagram."
"You know what I mean," I said.
"She's the first one in line to like everyone else's posts, and when they post one of mine, she ignores it."
"I can't believe you even know that."
"I just can't understand doing that to someone. Why would she dislike me for no reason?"
"I don't know," Naomi said, "because she does. I told you maybe she's jealous. Who cares? You can't seriously waste time thinking about this girl and whether or not she likes your little pictures."
"I'm not trying to be sensitive or anything, it's just sort of mean."
"So let her be mean. Some people in the world are just mean."
"I don't get that."
"Well, it doesn't make it any less of a reality."
I resolved to stop wasting time on Instagram, but couldn't resist refreshing my feed one time before I quit. I gasped out loud when I saw the photo that Isaac posted only one minute before. @newyork_nicky, plain as day, dressed and ready to go out in a sleek, dark pair of slacks and dark colored fitted button-up shirt. I could see the contrast of his dark outfit and light eyes even though the photo wasn't a close up.
"What happened?"
"He just posted a photo and the caption said where he was going tonight."
"Are you serious? What'd it say?"
"It says, 'Seeing what L.A.'s all about tonight. Starting at Major League.' Do you know where that is?"
"Yeah, it's in Hollywood. Do you want to go?"
I felt a wave of nerves wash over me at the thought of running into him again. I glanced down at the photo. "He's so gorgeous that I can't do it, and at the same time, he's so gorgeous I can't stop myself."
"Come on. It's not like we had other plans."
Naomi and I got dressed and were at the club three hours later. She helped me with my hair and makeup, and I felt pretty good about myself when we left.
There was a line around the building, and we didn't make it inside until almost eleven. It was extremely packed in there, and we found it difficult to maneuver through the crowd, which was filled with girls who were at least ten times more comfortable in there than I was.
Naomi wasn't much of a club person either, but she treated it like a new adventure, and didn't seem daunted at all by the wall-to-wall people elbowing each other for a place to stand.
We tried not to be obvious about it, but we looked around for Isaac for about twenty minutes before assuming we wouldn't find him. Our assumption was confirmed when I overheard a couple of girls talking about how New York Nicky had been there, but was gone now.
Naomi and I decided to stay at the club for a while. We were both dressed and thought it might be fun. I wasn’t apt to chase him down any further, and even if I was, we had no idea where he went.
It turned out to be one of the best nights of my life, and not because I ran into Isaac or because anything monumental happened. It was a great night for one simple reason—guys paid attention to me. The male species as a whole noticed me in a way I'd never experienced before. Five guys asked me to dance and two of them asked for my phone number. Actually, I take back what I said earlier about nothing monumental happening. It was monumental. I got stared at like never before and, even though I was sort of mad at them for not wanting to do it till now, the attention was nice, and I found it difficult to stop smiling.
Chapter 8
Isaac
Shane and I went to Major League, but left by 10:30. It was a cool scene, but was so packed I could barely move. That was to be expected at a good club, and normally I didn't mind, but I wasn't feeling into the crowd. I was tired and wanted to hang out in a quieter environment.
That girl Emily from the plane had two girlfriends with her, and none of them were below a nine. The particularly hot one named Sophie turned out to be a lawyer who said she'd love for Shane and I to hang out with her and her girlfriends at her house. Tomorrow was a day off, so Shane wanted to get into some trouble. I was leaning toward forgetting the girls and heading back to our hotel, but he talked me into going to Sophie's house.
The girls gave us the address and said they'd meet us after we left the club. We asked Carl to wait around till we made sure we were staying, and he agreed. I felt confident we'd stay just based on the outside of her house. It was the same Spanish architecture that was so popular out west, but much bigger than anything I expected for someone so young.
Shane remarked on how nice it was as we approached the door. It opened before we could knock on it, and all three of the girls were there to greet us. We stepped inside. I figured I'd look around for a minute before giving Carl the go-ahead to leave.
"We assumed you guys wanted to hang out with just us so we didn't invite anyone else over," Sophie said.
T
here was Emily from the plane and Sophie who owned the house, but I had no idea what the other girl's name was. She was quiet and just sort of stuck by Emily. All three of them were impeccably dressed in coordinating outfits and had taken care in getting ready, but Emily and Sophie were the standouts. Normally, Shane and I would have already discussed the logistics of who got whom, but I didn't have a real interest in figuring that out. I didn't really care. Quite honestly, all three of these girls sort of blurred together into one entity—maybe it was those matching outfits.
"We're good hanging out with just you girls," Shane said, looking at me for approval.
I nodded.
"In that case, what can I get you to drink?"
"I better tell the driver he can go home," I said. I looked at Sophie, who seemed to be in charge. "That's assuming you don't mind giving us a ride back to the hotel."
"Not at all," she said. "Just say when you're ready and I'll drive you over there."
"I think we need to clarify something before we go sending our driver home, boss," Shane said, looking at me.
"What?" I asked, acting dumb even though I knew exactly where he was leading with this.
Shane looked at the ladies with a completely serious expression. He clutched his hands in front of his chest, studying each of them. They all beamed at him. "See, ladies, the thing is… my boy Isaac can't do tears. He's sensitive to them and it effects his work, so as his manager, I need to know that there'll be no tears shed tonight or tomorrow morning or whenever he leaves."
I watched as he gave his little speech, the whole time wearing an expression that said I thought he was a piece of work for saying such things, but I still didn't stop him.
"I don't know about Emily and Beth, but I'm not looking for a boyfriend," Sophie said, causing the other two to shake their heads indicating they weren't either.
Shane and I ended up spending the night at Sophie's house. She had a rec room with a huge TV and game system, and we got stuck in there playing around and drinking all night. They were nice girls and tried to be touchy feely with me, but I didn't mess around with any of them. I kept it in neutral, and (after a few attempts) they seemed to respect that. Shane disappeared with the quiet one for a little while, but he later told me they didn't do anything either.
Following Isaac Page 5
