What a Girl Wants

by Kristin Billerbeck

  Brea flaked on me with regards to shopping again and I had only the cursed three-way mirror to answer the eternal question: Does my bum look big in this dress? When at the store, I just happened to remember that I still have a few items at the dry cleaners, so in addition to my single suitcase for Taiwan, I have another three outfits before life becomes critical.

  It’s seven o’clock in the evening, and I’m beginning to pace inside my office. To my chagrin, tonight is Dianna’s late night. Since I’ve never really seen her work during the day, I’m curious what she does on late night, but it’s probably just a reason for her to come in at ten in the morning.

  “You don’t have to hang around, you know. I can handle things here,” Dianna says.

  Looking around at all the tired husbands working late, I’m sure she can handle things here, but isn’t that the reason not to let her? “Why don’t you just go home, Dianna?”

  “Because I’m here to answer the phone—in case Taiwan calls.”

  Ah, so she does have a purpose. “I’m waiting for my date.” I square my shoulders, showing off my gorgeous new black dress.

  “With that guy you cornered in the office today? He looked scared out of his wits!” She snickers, and I just feel my fist instinctively clench. Catfight! I breathe in a deep cleansing breath. I am a Christian. I turn the other cheek. “No, actually it’s with a surgeon I’ve met at Stanford.” Meow!

  “Go easy on the poor boy, will ya?”

  With everything in my being, I want to tell her she’s the last person I’d take advice on men from, but I just smile. It’s enough that I make three times what she does and have the vocabulary to date a doctor. If only it was easier to fire secretaries here, I lament. Sadly, Dianna could get me fired faster . . .

  I get this little prick of guilt and God speaks to me about Dianna’s life and how hard everything is. Yes, she makes life that way, but don’t we all in a way? He’d want me to look for some good in her, beneath the cheesy outfit and heavy makeup and desperate attempts to make herself feel desirable.

  “Maybe you’re right. I should go easy,” I say with a smile. A real smile this time, not my fake catty one.

  Security buzzes my office to tell me a Doctor Kevin Novak is here for me. I’m nervous, but not as nervous as I was when Seth came sauntering in unannounced this morning. I have to remind myself there’s no history with Kevin. If there’s going to be, it will have to be created.

  Checking my reflection in my compact, I smile to make sure there’s no lipstick on my teeth and head for the front door. “Good night, Dianna. I hope you don’t have to stay too late.”

  She winks at me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  I’m doubting the possibility. But I like this new feeling of peace between us. Dianna is not someone you want to be enemies with in this lifetime. Admins have way too much power. “See you in the morning, Dianna.”

  Kevin is waiting at the door with his hands clasped. He looks like the guys on The Bachelorette waiting for a rose. My heart gives a little flip. He’s just too good-looking for words. But he’s the kind of good-looking where you wonder are people thinking, What’s he doing with her? He’s in a suit. Not a shirt with a tie, but an actual navy, double-breasted, be-still-my-heart suit.

  “Ashley, you look beautiful. Is that a new dress?”

  I give a little twirl and nod. “Thank you. So do you. Gorgeous, I mean. Not beautiful.”

  He opens the glass door for me and waiting beside the curb is a black Porsche Boxter. He opens the door to the sports car and picks up a bouquet of pink roses and holds them out toward me. I look around. Isn’t this the end of Flashdance? I break into song about what I’m feeling, but Kevin doesn’t get it, so I snap my mouth shut and focus on the car.

  “Thank you,” I say flirtatiously, taking the flowers from him. “What’s going on? Where’s your real car?”

  He starts laughing. “This is my real car. I always wanted a Porsche. Call me shallow, but I bought it when I started my residency, even though I could barely afford my apartment. Credit is a good thing.”

  “No, where’s the car with the rope on the trunk?”

  Now he’s really laughing. “That’s not my car.”

  “You know, I snagged a perfectly good pair of slacks in that car. Do you care to tell me about the Porsche? Explain yourself, perhaps?”

  “A bunch of us interns own that car and pay the registration on it. We have a pact to use it for all first dates. Are you going to get in? My arm is getting tired.”

  “You let me drive around in the city in that heap for nothing?”

  He presses a palm to his chest. “You’re calling my other car a heap? I’m crushed.”

  “You know, that car doesn’t say about you what you want it to. It doesn’t say, I’m poverty-stricken, will you love me anyway? It says, I have no self-respect and I spend my money poorly. It makes a woman worry she’s going to be supporting you.”

  “Is that right?” He steps closer to me and puts his arms around me while handing off the flowers. His charming sideways smile appears. “And would you support me, Ashley Stockingdale?”

  I pull away. “Not on your life. Are we going to dinner or what?”

  He steps back and helps me into the car. “Dinner, a proper dinner.”

  “We’re not going to the hospital cafeteria, are we? Because if there are any more tests, count me out. The bar was the last thing I studied for.” I try to find a place to put the huge bouquet, but Porsche Boxters aren’t made for storage.

  He slips into the driver’s seat and revs up the powerful engine. It’s funny. I love cars, but I have anxiety over a man who loves cars. In my mind, warped as it is, a woman who likes cars is confident, cool, bold. But a guy? A sports car tells me he’s insecure, out to prove something. Besides, the Boxter is a girl Porsche: the cute, affordable Porsche. A guy should drive a Carrera. But I shake the thought. This is my new life. Men behave differently in my fresh blossoming world. He’s not an engineer. He won’t drive this car until it dies a sad, fiery death on I-280.

  “No more tests, I promise.” Kevin puts the car into first gear, and we’re off. “You shouldn’t be nervous. You passed with flying colors.”

  “You don’t really know that. With all my computer expertise on patents, I could have looked up the registration on the car and known it was a test. I might have checked your bank account, or had a private eye follow you. You’ll never really know if I passed. You’re still a Stanford doctor.”

  “You’re a difficult one, you know that?”

  I smile at the description. “Of course I know that. It’s part of my charm.”

  We speed along the back streets until we’re in the middle of wealthy downtown Palo Alto. Although it’s a weeknight, the restaurants are packed with patrons who have more money than cooking expertise. We pull up in front of a tiny exclusive type of restaurant and Kevin pays the valet to take his Porsche.

  The weather is chilly and I wrap my new Angora shawl around my shoulders a bit tighter. Kevin sees me shiver, puts his arm around me, and hustles me into L’aime Donia, a little French bistro that appears to be all the rage.

  Sage green and warm yellow walls complete with hand-painted landscapes provide a calming atmosphere. But I don’t feel comfortable here. It’s not that I can’t hold my own in a nice restaurant, but it all seems so wasteful to me. As we’re seated, the wine list is extensive and expensive. New life. New life, I remind myself.

  “What kind of wine do you prefer?” Kevin asks.

  “None, actually. I don’t drink very often.”

  “Good for you. They have this merlot here that is absolutely fantastic, but it doesn’t come by the glass.”

  I fluff my linen napkin on my lap. “I still won’t drink any,” I say apologetically. “If my mother and brother aren’t here, I find very little use for alcohol.”

  He laughs, his warm eyes creasing. “See, you just passed my second test: peer pressure. Remember, I told yo
u I didn’t usually drink because of always being on call.”

  I bristle at this. Am I actually being tested? I shake the uneasy feeling.

  He orders a mineral water. And myself? A very classy Diet Coke. Once again, with a lemon twist of course; I’m not a total hick. I chance a direct question. “Is everything a test for you, Kevin?”

  “I am in my residency. It just feels that way, I guess.”

  “So what do you do now that you can’t make models of ships?”

  Kevin pauses, thinking deeply about my question. After a long silence, he speaks. “Nothing. I don’t really do much of anything except work, sleep, eat, and visit with my parents when they come out.”

  Staring at Kevin is suddenly like staring into a mirror. We’re two shallow people who drive sports cars and waste money on fancy food. This isn’t my new life. It can’t be. I wrap my angora around me a little tighter, but the expensive wrap brings me no warmth at the moment.

  “Isn’t that the guy Arin was talking about?” Kevin asks. “It must have fizzled quickly.”

  I look over into a corner table in the back and I nearly wretch at the sight of Seth Greenwood in a cozy booth with a redhead. Long, elegant red hair which she flips in regular intervals. I can’t breathe. Nor can I take my eyes off of him. He took this woman to a “proper” restaurant. There’s no ignorance. Seth knows dinner consists of more than Fresh Choice with a dollar-off coupon.

  “Ashley?” Kevin says, and I force my eyes back to him, but I still can’t breathe. I’m blinking my tears away and swallowing past the lump in my throat. I’ll never star in Flashdance’s ending. I’ll be welding forever. My eyes keep glancing back at Seth’s table because I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Oh, Lord, change my heart. Toward this gorgeous man across the table. Please.

  The waiter is at our table, rattling off specials in another language. Food I’ll never be able to enjoy, at prices that remind me how much Seth is paying for another woman. Kevin is everything I should want. He’s handsome, he’s successful, he’s ready to be serious with a woman and I’m pining over Baldy in the corner! What is my problem?

  “Miss?” the waiter asks. “Did you have any questions about the specials?”

  “What? Um, no. No questions. It all sounds divine, thank you. I just need a minute.” I force myself to focus.

  “I should have asked you if you liked French food,” Kevin says.

  “You know, Kevin, I’m just glad to be out. I’m not in Taiwan. I’m having the most elegant dinner of my year with a handsome surgeon. Life is good, and I need to express a little gratitude for that. So thank you.” I’ve almost convinced myself.

  “You’re most welcome,” Kevin rips off a piece of bread from the loaf.

  Seeing the colorful spices drenched in rich green olive oil, my stomach nearly loses it. I have to get through this night. If I don’t, I’ll never graduate, never progress past my pitiful crush on Seth. I guess it’s a crush. Although, I would have never known I was interested if it hadn’t been for Arin.

  The waiter’s back with his annoying French accent. “Have we decided then?”

  “I’ll have the salmon special,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. I think I heard salmon in that litany of ingredients he rattled off.

  I cross my hands on the table and set about to learn everything about Dr. Kevin Novak, trying to ignore anything I feel about Seth being here. Bad coincidence, that’s all. “You said that day in the café that you liked the beach. Do you get to go often?”

  “Not really.”

  “So then what’s your story, Dr. Novak?”

  He gets comfortable with the question and then begins. “Well, I come from humble beginnings, but I guess you could see that when you met my parents.”

  “Really, you think? They seem like society people to me.”

  “They are, of course, but they’re humble about which country club they belong to. They belong to the one with the finest doctors, not people with the most money.”

  No hint of laughter. He’s not kidding. I look over to Seth, who’s wearing a tie. Seth owns a tie, go figure.

  “Will you belong to a country club eventually?”

  “Why do you ask?” Kevin’s eyes narrow. “Is it something you’ve always wanted to do?”

  I shake my head. “Not really, no.”

  “Country Clubs offer an abundance of opportunities. It’s nice to be able to mingle with people who understand you.”

  Again my gaze veers towards Seth. “Yes, it is.” The Reasons understand me.

  “My parents called me to tell me how much they enjoyed meeting you. They are hoping to meet your parents next time they’re in town.”

  “Really?” I can’t help but think if given the opportunity, his parents would ask me for a DNA sampling. “I thought I blew it with them.”

  “No. Not at all. They knew you were exhausted—just back from a trip. I don’t run across many beautiful, available attorneys. They’re excited for me.”

  “Ah,” I manage. And there’s an uneasy silence that falls between us like a Gray Davis blackout.

  I’m trying to keep my facial expressions neutral. Money, I suppose, is something I’ve taken for granted living in the Silicon Valley. Money is everywhere, and millionaires are a dime a dozen, but I never aspired to be a socialite. I’m happy shopping at Ann Taylor once in a while and driving my sports car. I’m not considered wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but I would imagine most thirty-year-olds are rich in Silicon Valley. But this. This kind of socialite money is foreign to me and I don’t like it any more than I like freshly killed crustacean.

  “Do your parents come to California often?” I don’t know what else to ask. It’s either that or, How many times a year will I have to endure them if we last beyond tonight’s date?

  “Couple times a year. Often on their way to Hawaii or Japan. They love to travel.” Kevin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. He sees his parents as an advantage to a relationship, not the frightening deterrent they are. “So, enough about me. What do you do for fun?”

  My eyes pop open. The challenge: make the Reasons sound normal. Not a difficult task, except Kevin probably grew up playing polo and hasn’t studied Star Trek since its inception.

  “I hang out a lot with my church singles group. Sometimes we watch a movie at someone’s house. Sometimes we head to Applebee’s. That kind of thing.” I shrug, like we’re so typical. See, I don’t mention that we see the same movie, or that chain restaurants are fine dining. I don’t even say a thing about Talent Night and publicly humiliating ourselves in the local Starbucks. There’s that little twinge of guilt again. I’m remembering that sermon on the sin of omission. But I’m not really officially omitting anything. I’m editing. There’s a distinct difference.

  “Arin’s friend seems to see you.”

  I turn around and see Seth wave, but I turn before I can acknowledge him. “Seth. His name is Seth.”

  “Wasn’t that crazy what Arin did? Taking off to a foreign country like that?”

  “Maybe she’ll be a full-time missionary. Who knows?”

  “Missionary?” Kevin shakes his head. “Well, stranger things have happened.”

  “Oddly, I can picture her there in her wild capris. She really has such a magnetic personality, and she loves adventure, so who knows when we’ll see her back.”

  “Seth doesn’t seem to mind her absence, or at least he didn’t for long, judging by his date over there. I can’t say I miss her much.”

  I look back and see Seth and the redhead laughing. Well, I can’t really see the redhead laughing, just her locks swaying as she tosses her head about. Her hair is beautiful, but I secretly hope she has the face of chopped liver.

  “Seth and Arin never really dated,” I explain. “They had just met when Arin left.”

  “But even if they went out once, Arin has a way of making you feel you were on the verge of marriage. Trust me on that one.”

  My cheeks are tw
itching. “Arin wouldn’t knowingly mess with people’s minds that way. I’m sure it’s just her outgoing personality.”

  “My parents liked her too, until she showed up spouting all this religious talk.” He rolls his eyes. “I could have died. She takes that stuff in, I tell you.”

  “She’s rock solid in her faith, there’s no denying that,” I say, like I’m the pinnacle of moral righteousness. Me, who sits and covets a man across the restaurant. I wonder if you hear the thunder after you’re struck by lightning.

  But I’m rolling his words about Arin around in my head. Are his parents not believers? And why would they be upset about Arin talking of her faith? More importantly, why would Kevin not stand up for her?

  I study the man across the table from me and choke down a bite of bread. I’m overanalyzing, as usual. I’m sure of it.

  25

  After my date, Kevin, the perfect gentleman, kisses me platonically on the cheek, which leaves me a bit puzzled. Brea greets me at the door and eagerly pulls me inside, her hands clasped under her chin. “So?”

  The two little pugs she bought when she married are nipping at my feet, their pushed-in faces annoyed they must share their master. They seem to be taking it out on me.

  “Tell me, tell me! Is he as dreamy as he looks?” Brea asks.

  “I’ll be upstairs,” John announces with a shake of his head. “I can’t stomach this conversation where you two plot the demise of another guy.”

  “Oh, you!” Brea kisses him playfully.

  “Good night, John,” I say, watching him skulk away. “Kevin’s very nice, Brea. He’s—” But I falter. I can’t keep up the show. I’ve been working at it all night, and I feel the first sting of pain when I start to tell her how wonderful Kevin is. I dissolve into tears and they flow freely as I realize the enormity of seeing Seth with another woman. “We were having a wonderful time until”—sniffle here—“I got dumped all over again.” I pat myself steadily on the chest. “I did the dumping. I kissed Seth goodbye. How dare he show up at the restaurant!”

  “Ash, what happened? What on earth are you talking about?”