Wanderlust

by Thea Dawson

  “Oh, I’ll lose it all as soon as I get back to Thailand. All the heat and walking—” she suddenly stopped and blushed. My God, she was so cute.

  I pretended not to notice the blush. “Oh, is that where you’re going on your honeymoon? Pretty exotic. Everyone else I know gets a diamond ring and goes to Hawaii. I like that you guys are being different about it.”

  Monica gave me an odd look, just staring at me as if she wanted to say something.

  I grinned uncomfortably. “What?” I finally asked.

  “What what?” she asked, startled.

  “You were staring off into space.” I chuckled. “Thought I was the spacey one.”

  “What are you doing for the rest of the day?” she suddenly asked.

  “Oh, no real plans.”

  “I have some errands to run downtown. Why don’t you come with me? You want to tag along and maybe we could get a late lunch?”

  I smiled, pleased at the thought of spending more time with her. “Well, sure, that would be great. If you don’t think your man would mind.”

  She shook her head. “He won’t mind. I’d like … I’d like to get know you again. I’d like us to be friends.”

  I met her gaze and nodded. “I’d like that, too,” I said quietly. “Where are we going?”

  Chapter 14

  Monica

  An hour later, we were in the REI on Halstead Street. We’d hit the shoes first, and now I was examining backpacks. My current one had been a graduation present from my parents. I was sentimental about it, but it was showing its age, and I didn’t want to hit the road with it again, for fear that I’d have to deal with a tear or a broken strap. I was hoping to find something lighter and more comfortable.

  I hefted a green Osprey and tried the zipper.

  Jason laughed.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shook his head, still smiling. “You were such a girly girl in college. I think your greatest ambition was to own a pair of, what were they, Steve Maddens or something? And here you are getting fitted for Tevas and testing out backpacks.”

  “I was more ambitious than that! I wanted Manolo Blahniks!” I sniffed. I was being funny, but a part of me cringed inside, remembering our joke about him buying me a closet full of designer shoes.

  “Not a shoe girl anymore?”

  I tried on the backpack and fiddled with the straps. “I have to admit, I do still love shoes, but fancy ones really aren’t practical in my line of work.”

  “How’s that going to go now that you’re settling down?” He sounded more serious now. “Are you worried that you won’t be able to work on your business the same way now that you’re not going to be traveling as much?”

  I picked up a Deuter backpack. It was more expensive than the Osprey, and frankly not as attractive—I guess looks were still important after all—but it looked like it might be more practical. And it had a detachable daypack, which I liked.

  I thought about Jason’s question. How would my job work if I settled down? “Not really,” I finally answered. “I’m location independent, so it doesn’t really matter where I am. I booked two new clients just sitting in Stephen’s apartment last week.”

  “You mean your apartment,” he said.

  “Oh, right! I keep forgetting.” I laughed, trying to cover up my embarrassment. I hated sounding like such a ditz. “Um, and I have enough experience now that sometimes publishers will pay all my expenses, which is always kind of nice. But usually I get more exotic assignments when I’m already in an interesting place, and they don’t have to pay airfare.” I had to stop myself from telling him about the book chapters I’d be working on in Thailand. It was a plum assignment and I was very excited about it.

  “You must have a lot of cool things from all your travels,” he said. There was something in his voice that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He sounded almost … concerned.

  “Some. I learned pretty early on that I didn’t want to bring back a bunch of junkie little souvenirs, so I haven’t bought much. But what I have brought back is pretty special.” I adjusted the straps on the Deuter and belted it. I liked the way it felt.

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, let’s see. I have an antique child’s kimono that I got at a flea market in Japan. Someday, I’d like to display it in a box frame. I have this gorgeous pottery vase from Venezuela. I have an Aboriginal carved box from Australia. A rug from Abu Dhabi, and another rug from Pakistan.” I moved and stretched, trying to get a feel for the backpack.

  “Wow, where is all this stuff?”

  “It’s at my parents’. You remember their house, right? It’s plenty big enough. Though if they ever downsize, I’ll be in trouble.”

  “Well, you and Stephen have your own place now. Can’t you bring it all here?”

  I paused for a moment, trying to think this through. “Oh, yeah. I suppose so. Eventually. His place is sort of small, though. Maybe when we get something bigger.”

  There was an awkward silence. I couldn’t figure out why it felt awkward, though. Did I sound like a snob, thinking I deserved an upgrade from Stephen’s apartment?

  “Well, location independent is pretty cool,” Jason suddenly said. “I’d love to work from the beach.”

  “I would, too,” I laughed, “but I’m too paranoid about getting sand in my laptop. So ‘working from the beach’ is more figurative than literal. But I can work from just about anywhere, so that’s nice.”

  “So now you’ll be working more from Starbucks than Tahiti. Not as exotic, but still pretty sweet.”

  I suppressed a shudder, and busied myself examining the pockets and checking the zippers of the backpack.

  “I’m envious,” he added.

  “I thought you liked your job,” I said.

  “Oh, I do,” he said quickly. “It’s an awesome opportunity, like I said. Great perks, benefits, fantastic experience. You know.” He gestured at the backpack. “Is this the one you’re getting?”

  “Yeah, I like it,” I said, feeling pleased at having made a decision.

  “Here, let me carry it for you.” He hefted it over his shoulder.

  “Thanks. What do you like best about it? Your job, I mean,” I asked.

  We began making our way to the checkout counter. Jason looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well,” he said slowly, “Initially, back in San Francisco, I was in sales. And I was okay—”

  “I bet you were great!” I smiled. “You’re charming, you’re good looking—who wouldn’t want to buy from you?”

  He laughed. “I think those qualities only go so far when you’re selling accounts to grumpy, middle-aged men. I was all right. Not the best salesman ever, but certainly not the worst. But then I got into marketing. And that was really exciting. It was both creative and rewarding. I got to learn about other businesses, come up with new ideas, and we really helped people. When I worked in San Francisco, we were hired by this little winery in Napa Valley. Little family business, small potatoes, couldn’t compete with all the big guys around it, wasn’t looking good. But we turned it around. Thought of new ways they could position themselves, almost tripled their consumer sales, kept ’em in business. Felt really good.” He smiled at the recollection.

  “What about now?” I asked. “Do you still get to do stuff like that?”

  He shook his head. “Not as much. When I took the job at D&B, they put me in as an account manager. It’s … I guess you could say it’s less hands-on.”

  I smiled. “Tough being the boss, huh?”

  “Well, I’m not exactly the boss.”

  “You know what I mean. The more important you get, the less time you have for the fun stuff.” We dropped the shoes and the backpack onto the checkout desk, and I handed my credit card over the clerk. “I have the opposite problem. I’m doing all the fun stuff, which is great, but I really need someone to help me out with stuff like marketing, landing accounts, administrative stuff. I’ve got all these ideas—I could write a book, videos. I
have an idea for an online course—but I just can’t do it all myself.”

  “Well, I can help,” he offered, so quickly that I wondered if he’d been looking for the opportunity all along. “You know, I was looking at your site. I think with a good opt-in offer, you could be doing a much better job of capturing names for your email list. Any idea what your conversion rate is?”

  “Umm …” I shook my head.

  “That’s okay. It’s easy to figure out. You should update your blog more regularly. You’ll update it every day for a few weeks and then go a month without saying anything. You can’t do that. Consistency is key.”

  “Whoa, there,” I said, hoping I hadn’t sounded like I was looking for a freebie. “I wish I could afford to hire you, but I know you’re out of my price range. Maybe you could point me toward some good books or something?”

  He grinned at me, that goofy, charming, boyish grin that I remembered so well. “Don’t be ridiculous. Listen, you got your stuff and I’m getting hungry. Let’s make it a working lunch, and we’ll talk about getting Adventuress Travel, ahem, on the map.”

  I grinned at him. “Ha ha! Let’s go. I know a good diner a couple blocks from here.”

  *****

  We lingered at the diner for almost two hours. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded, or I would have felt bad about taking up a table for so long. As it was, I ordered a cup of tea I didn’t really want so that we had some excuse to keep sitting there.

  Jason was a wealth of information, and had some really targeted suggestions. I had to wonder how much time he’d spent looking at my site and my Facebook page. His ideas were worth thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of dollars. Even better was how excited he got over the whole thing. He really lit up when he talked about newsletters and conversion rates. It was almost funny, really, to think of this former frat boy-athlete turned marketing geek, but his ideas were priceless.

  After the waitress came by for the fifth time to ask us, pointedly, if we needed anything else, I picked up the check. Jason made a belated grab for it, but I snatched it out of reach.

  “On me. It’s the least I can do. Seriously, thank you so much for all these great ideas. I’ve been feeling like I’ve been behind the cart ever since I started this business, and now I feel like I’m ahead of it again. Or at least, that I could be. Thank you. You’re amazing.”

  He looked truly happy. “Well, I’m glad to help. Like I was saying earlier, this is the part of my job I like best, figuring out how to help small businesses.”

  “Well, you’re not only good at it, you clearly have a passion for it. Have you ever thought about going into business for yourself?”

  He smiled. “Actually, yeah,” he admitted. “Eventually, I’d really like to just do this kind of consulting. Get away from all the office politics crap.”

  I nodded sympathetically. I wasn’t sure how anyone could spend years working in an office.

  “I want to do it right, though,” he said earnestly. “You know, make sure I can make a good living. Get bigger clients, bigger accounts.”

  “Not small fry like me, you mean,” I said with a smile.

  “Actually, I really love helping little businesses. But they don’t usually have much of a budget for marketing consultants. And, hey,” he shrugged, “Chicago’s a pricey place to live.”

  “I certainly don’t have a budget, but maybe after I put some of your plans into action, I will. But seriously, isn’t this the kind of thing you could do from anywhere? Maybe you should go work on that beach in Thailand.”

  “Gosh, that sounds nice.”

  “But you’re all career-minded and ambitious, and can’t imagine leaving a major American city to go beach-bum out in the Third World.”

  “Exactly!” he agreed, almost forcefully. “I mean, eventually, I want to settle down, get married, maybe have some kids. I’d like to, you know, provide a stable environment, that sort of thing.”

  “Wow,” I smiled, but inside I felt a lurch of sadness, “you’re like the opposite of the commitment-phobe stereotype.”

  “Hey, even frat boys have to grow up.”

  I smiled, but for a moment. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Maybe I was the one who wasn’t ready to grow up.

  Chapter 15

  Jason

  I got nervous when she’d said she needed some things for her trip to Thailand; I didn’t really want to help her shop for honeymoon lingerie or anything, but it turned out she needed a new backpack and some serious walking shoes, and we spent a surprising amount of time discussing the merits of Keens versus Tevas.

  It had sort of struck me, though, that the apartment didn’t really seem like hers. I’m not usually that observant about stuff like that, but I’d noticed there were no photos of her or all the interesting places she’d visited, and the décor had a very masculine feeling to it—in a sophisticated, hired-an-interior-decorator way, but still. It lacked a woman’s touch. It lacked her touch.

  I wondered if there was a reason she hadn’t brought her things to Chicago. Maybe Stephen didn’t want her messing with his high-end décor?

  I should have just come clean with her then. I could have told her that my job sucked and I was due to lose it any minute. I could have asked her for advice on relocating somewhere with beautiful scenery and no heating bills. The only time I’d been out of the country was a spring break trip to Cancun my senior year; I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be impressed with my travel credentials.

  But the truth was slowly dawning on me: even if I had no chance, I still wanted to impress her. I wanted to be the man I hadn’t been for her in college.

  I dropped her off at her apartment just as it was getting dark. “Thanks. I really enjoyed spending the day with you.”

  “No, thank you. Thank you for driving me all over town, and for all the great advice you gave me. It’s really fantastic. I can’t wait to start putting it into practice.”

  “No worries. I’m happy to help. In fact, I’m going to call to make sure you’re following up.”

  She grinned. “An accountability partner on top of everything else. You’re a real bargain!”

  She pulled her new backpack and the shoes out of my trunk and stood on the sidewalk next to my car. I didn’t really want to let her go just yet, but I was running out of reasons to keep her there.

  “Do you want a hand getting your things up to the apartment?” I asked.

  “Thanks, but I’m okay.” She smiled and didn’t make any move to go. Neither did I. We just stood staring at each other for a moment. I wanted to ask her when I could see her again, but I was afraid of sounding like I was asking her on a date. The snow was starting to fall softly, but the wind had died down, and it wasn’t as cold as it had been. Large, fluffy snowflakes were gathering on her bangs. Without thinking, I reached down to brush them off with my left hand.

  She leaned into me. As soon as touched her face, I realized I’d been too forward, and I pulled my hand back. “Hey, I’d better get going,” I said reluctantly. “Early day tomorrow. And your man’s probably waiting for you.”

  Her smile faded. “Oh. Right. Yeah, he’s probably home by now. I should start making dinner. Well, thanks again.”

  It was probably my imagination, but her hug felt longer and tighter than it had before.

  I made my way home. Matt was out—for real this time, probably out to dinner with Kim. Although, knowing the two of them, it was just as likely they were at the library. It was completely dark by now, but still relatively early.

  I had a long, lonely night to look forward to. Hanging out with Monica all day had been fun—too fun, maybe. I enjoyed her company as much as ever and I was excited about her business, but she was home making dinner for her new man and I was home alone on a Sunday night, thinking about all the things my life was lacking.

  Rather than get caught up in self-pity, I decided to hike two snowy blocks to the Chinese place and order some takeout. It was decent food, and not having to cook for myself made it
worth the extra money. I trudged back to the apartment with my dinner and spread out in front of the computer.

  Talking to Monica about her business had put me in marketing mode, and I began looking over the Silver Basin Spa’s website and taking notes on things they could do to bring in more customers. I called Chip’s wife Katie and talked to her for about twenty minutes on what the customer experience there was like; her insights were really helpful. I kind of hoped I’d be able to talk to Chip afterward, but she told me he was at the gym.

  I went back to my now-cold lo mien and my notes on the spa and began writing an email to the owner. At the end, I suggested an early morning meeting later that week; I’d be late for work again, but hell, I wanted them to fire me, right? Of course, if I screwed up too much, that hoped-for severance package wouldn’t be an option, but I was probably just dreaming that it was a possibility anyway.

  The idea was to give her some great ideas upfront, arrange a meeting with her in person to find out more, then send her a detailed proposal. I’d done some copywriting jobs for a handful of small businesses since I’d gotten to Chicago, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to really sink my teeth into anything since my company in San Francisco had folded. I found myself getting excited about the spa. Katie had great things to say about it, and it already had a strong brand, but after looking at their website, my mind was bursting with ways they could improve their business. The trick was suggesting enough to get them interested, without giving away so much that they wouldn’t have a reason to hire me.

  It took me a couple of hours to write and revise the email, but when I finally hit send, I felt like I’d accomplished something worthwhile. I was finally doing something about my business, not just talking about it. Even if nothing else came from running into Monica again, at least I had this.

  Chapter 16

  Monica