Seeing Clearly

by Casey McMillin

  "I'll show myself in," I said.

  I was already headed into Rachel's office when Bailey called after me, "There's a remote for the blinds on the bookshelf. It gets really dark in there, and the couch is comfortable if you want a little shut-eye."

  I really did consider the idea of making the room dark and closing my eyes for fifteen minutes. I didn't think I could go so far as taking a nap, but a few minutes of quiet sounded nice. "Thanks," I called back. Then I shut the door behind me.

  Rachel had a spacious but cozy office. Maybe it was because she was too young to know what a real office looked like, but the girl had a really unusual approach to office décor. It was perhaps the most comfortable business environment I'd ever been in. A wood-burning fireplace and a giant game of checkers wouldn't have been at all out of place in here. There were two oversized couches made of soft leather. One whole wall was covered in bookshelves full of colorful books, games, toys and pictures. I could just move in to this place.

  Curious about the collection of books and trinkets, I crossed the room so I could better inspect the enormous bookshelf. Several of the shelves contained framed photos of Rachel and her friends and family. I recognized all of the people in the photos since they'd been guests at Collin and Rachel's wedding party a month ago.

  I stopped in front of a small photo of Rachel posing with a character from the musical Cats. I picked up the photo and held it toward the sunlight for closer inspection. The photograph was small, but the frame was heavy and ornate. I squinted down at it trying to make out the facial features of that cat. I could tell it was Gretchen even though she had on a costume and a full face of stage make up.

  I loved seeing her in costume, but it just drove home the fact that there was no way in hell I could marry an actress. Maybe it makes me the jealous type, but I could never, in a million years share my wife the way actresses have to be shared. I'd sooner die than say, "Hope you have a good time making out with other guys at work today, honey."

  Yeah, that would never happen. I knew I'd never marry her, but that didn't stop me from wanting her. I stared down at the photo again, finding myself wishing I had been there the moment it was taken so I could remember the sights and sounds that were going on at the time.

  Rachel's office door opened, startling me. Realizing I had been caught snooping, I tried to put the photo back in its place as quickly as possible. My hasty movements only worked against me, causing a bit of a racket before I could get the frame in its place again.

  "That's Gretchen as Bombalurina," I heard a voice say from the door. I hadn't expected anyone to show up for another ten minutes, so I was a little shaken at being caught looking.

  "Oh, you mean the cat?" I asked, laughing it off as if I wasn't even really looking at it. "That's Gretchen? I couldn't tell with all the makeup and stuff," I lied.

  "Yeah," Rachel said. She crossed to where I was standing and picked up the photograph. She looked up and smiled as if she were remembering the performance just like I was wishing I could do. "Gretchen was amazing in that role," Rachel continued, "I didn't know she could dance before I saw her in Cats."

  "She can dance?" I asked. I was being a total idiot. I already knew she could dance. I'd danced with her myself a few months ago at a banquet in Vegas.

  Rachel laughed as if just answering yes to that question would have been an understatement. "She drags me out to the club once in a blue moon and she is a-ma-zing. People literally stop dancing to watch her. She's had training in all styles." Rachel spoke like a true friend, proud of Gretchen's accomplishments.

  I'd managed to keep thoughts of Gretchen at bay during the last month. And now, thanks to Rachel and her office full of fucking pictures, I was having visions getting sweaty with a redhead on a dance floor in a packed bar. Time for a subject change, I decided.

  "I'm moving in to my new place next week," I said, taking a seat on one of the leather couches. I rested my elbow on the arm and rubbed my hand over the soft leather. "Would you be willing to help me pick out a few things? I'd be happy to pay you… it's just that the designer I've been talking to picks furniture that makes me feel guilty for sitting on it… way too formal for my taste. I like this stuff." I gestured so she'd know I was talking about her office furniture.

  "You mean I get to go shopping and spend your money?" Rachel asked. Her eyes lit up at the idea.

  "I'll have the designer choose the furniture for everything else in the house," I said, "but if you could help me with my main living room and bedroom, I'd really appreciate it. I just don't want to feel stiff in those rooms, and I don’t know who else to ask. I figured since we could just get something similar to what you have in here. I love this office." Rachel laughed, knowing her choice of furniture was unorthodox to say the least.

  "I'd love to help you out," she said, still laughing a little, "but just be warned, I have no idea what I'm doing."

  "No pressure, It's not like I'm trying to entertain anybody fancy. I just want to be comfortable in my own house."

  "I totally understand that. I'd be happy to help," Rachel said. She took a seat at her desk and used the touch screen of her computer to pull up a couple of files for me to look at. "I have two for you to choose from, and I wanted you to see them in person. That way if there's anything you want me to tweak, we can do it while you're standing over my shoulder."

  "Which one is this for?" I asked, knowing it was for a magazine but not remembering which one.

  "Sports Illustrated, Maxim, Cosmo, People, and Mother Jones," Rachel said.

  "Mother Jones?" I asked, unable to stifle a laugh at the notion. "Do hippies use goggles?" Rachel knew what she was doing. I had no doubt that she would make the right decisions when it came to managing the advertising for Perrin Goggles, but Mother Jones? That was just funny.

  Rachel gave me a look of mock injury. "Oh ye of little faith. I think we'll see a good response from our Mother Jones readers. My parents read Mother Jones and they would buy a pair." Leave it to Rachel to make huge business deals based on thinking her parents would buy goggles from an ad in a hippie magazine. The funny part was, it would probably work.

  I looked over her shoulder again to consider the two ad designs she'd come up with. I ended up choosing the simpler one. Collin, the National Team swimmer who was the face of my goggle line, was featured in both ads, and looked great in both. But I ended up going with the one that showed him by himself instead of with female models at his side. Rachel, who was not only my advertising consultant but also Collin's wife didn't try to sway me either way. However, I could tell she was glad when I chose the one of him alone.

  "I thought I would like the ones of him and the girls that you originally drew up," I said, looking down at the computer screen again. "I'm really surprised at how much I like this one of him by himself. I think it's perfect. I'm so glad we took those extra photos."

  Rachel shot me a look of smug satisfaction since it had been her idea to take the photos of Collin alone. She just got lucky on that one because there was no artistic vision involved with her choice to ask the photographer to take the girls out of the picture. She just wanted to get those "hoochie models" (as she called them) off the set. I asked if we could change the accent color in one area from yellow to orange, but other than that, I thought the ad was good to go. "It's a wrap. Send that to whatever publications you have lined up and we'll see how it goes."

  "I think it's going to be great Joel," she said, "they're going to fly off the shelves."

  "We're already doing pretty good in specialty swim shops, but there's still a lot of potential. I'm excited."

  "I am too." Rachel said smiling and getting up to walk me out of her office. She sucked air into her teeth like she just remembered something. "Ooh, speaking of being excited, we're all going out to eat for Collin's birthday. No big deal… it's not a party or anything, we're just meeting at a restaurant to eat and maybe embarrass him a little on his birthday."

  "Oh, yeah? How old's he gonna be?" I
asked. I had a good idea, but I wasn't positive.

  "Twenty-four," she said. "Do you think you can make it?" She was looking at me with a hopeful expression, making me feel like she really did want me to be there.

  "Of course I'll be there," I said without thinking, "just tell me when and where."

  "That's the thing." She winced a little like she had to deliver some bad news. "It's this Friday at seven. I'm sorry it's such late notice, but we just threw it together last night."

  "Friday, like two days from now Friday?"

  "Yeah." She was still wincing. "I'm really sorry if you can't make it. We've been so busy that I hadn't planned anything for his birthday, but I didn't want to let it go by without a little fuss."

  "No, no, I think I can actually make that work. Just text me the name of the place and I'll be there. Did you say seven o'clock?"

  "Yep." Rachel crossed the space between us with a huge smile on her face and her arms outstretched to give me a hug. "Aww, I'm so glad you can be there. Collin will be thrilled."

  I had already made up my mind to choose Collin for the goggle endorsement before I ever knew he and Rachel would be together, but it couldn't have worked out better. I really did like them both… not only as business partners but as people.

  "Well I'm excited about it too," I said, giving her a smile as I turned for the door.

  "Oh, and Joel?" she called.

  "Yeah?"

  "You can bring a date if you want. I think one or two others are planning on bringing someone."

  "Oh, okay. Thanks." I said, but her random statement left me feeling more confused than anything. Was that her way of telling me Gretchen would be there and that she would be bringing a date? I decided not to overthink it. It was just dinner at a restaurant. If all else fails, I'll just sit at the opposite end of the table. I'd have to think about whether or not I wanted to bring someone, though.

  Bailey waved and mouthed the word goodbye as I left Rachel's office. She had the phone to her ear so I just gave her a wave and a smile on my way out the door.

  ****

  Two days later, I walked into the front doors of Whit's End, the hugely popular Tex-Mex restaurant owned and operated by celebrity chef Whitney Steiner. I was holding a small gift bag in one hand as I approached the host.

  "Are you here with a party?" he asked, gesturing to the bag in my hand.

  "Yes, Collin Blake." I said.

  "Ahh, yes, Blake party of ten?"

  "I guess so," I said, having no idea how many people Rachel had invited.

  "Right this way. I think most of the others are here already." I followed him through the crowded restaurant to a giant round table tucked in the corner of the room. There were only a few empty chairs so I randomly chose one to head for.

  Chapter 5

  Gretchen

  It was Collin's birthday and we were celebrating by eating a family-style meal at Whit's End restaurant. We were sitting at a huge, rustic, round table in the back of the main dining room. The team of servers had already dropped off baskets full of chips and bread and two pitchers of drinks. One was full of water and the other fresh squeezed lemonade. The male server, a lanky college age guy with a red apron, said he'd be back in a minute to take any other drink orders.

  There were still a few of us missing, but those of us who were there started to pour our drinks and chow down on the chips and bread.

  "This is my favorite place to eat," Collin said with a huge grin on his face. He was shoveling in the chips and salsa like this was his last meal, and I wondered how he managed to stay so thin, but then I remembered that with the amount of swimming he did, he probably needed that kind of caloric intake. Zack and Josh, two other swimmers who were sitting at the table, were also devouring the bread and chips. Josh no longer swam as regularly as Zack and Collin since he only did it through college level, but apparently he was active enough to eat bread and butter without thinking twice about it.

  After being on the set of a daytime soap opera for a month, I could safely say I would never put another bite of food into my mouth without feeling a little guilty about it. Everyone onset was completely obsessed with their diet and exercise plan. I had never put much thought into staying in shape, but I knew I'd have to learn quickly if I wanted to make it in daytime television.

  We were still missing three people at the table. I knew one of them was one of Collin's teammates from L.A. Aquatics and the other was Joel Perrin. Rachel had told me that much. What I didn't know was which one of them would be bringing a date to fill that third chair.

  As soon as the thought crossed my mind, Joel Perrin showed up alone, giving me the answer to my question. It was the first time I'd seen him since the night of Rachel's party when I slapped him. I was accustomed to seeing him in suit and tie since I'd only been around him in a business setting or at formal events. He was dressed casually in dark blue jeans and a lightweight plaid button up. His wavy black hair (that was normally combed back in a tidy style) was falling loosely over his ears and forehead. What a gorgeous head of hair, I thought.

  Joel approached Collin before choosing a place to sit. Collin stood up to greet him with a smile and some words of thanks for making it. I couldn't really hear, since I was sitting across the table. Joel gave him a few claps to the shoulder and handed him the small gift bag he was holding.

  "You didn't have to."

  I was basically lip reading, but Collin was really expressive and I could tell what he was saying. Joel made a face like it was no big deal and said something back to Collin that I couldn't distinguish.

  They went on talking for another full minute at least before Joel ever took a look around himself. In fact, by the time they finished talking, the other two people who were missing from the party had taken their seats, leaving Joel with only one option for a seat. Yes, the lone seat happened, just happened to be next to me.

  I got nervous and shifty when it became apparent Joel would be sitting next to me. I cursed him internally for having that kind of affect on me. I tried to remind myself that I had no reason to be nervous, but I couldn't stop the butterflies in my stomach. I was right on the edge of a giddiness meltdown at the sight of him and his loose hair, and to top it all off, now he would be sitting next to me all night.

  Thankfully, it turned out to be less awkward than I anticipated. Thirty seconds after Joel took his seat next to me the servers started setting out the family-style meal. They brought huge bowls full of yummy, spicy casseroles and vegetable dishes, placing them in the center of our table. We passed them around like it was Thanksgiving dinner in Mexico (if there is such a thing).

  My hand brushed with Joel's several times as we passed the dishes this way and that. Unintentional hand brushing was inevitably going to happen. When it did, he and I both tried to act like we hadn't even noticed it, but I mother scratching noticed it, that's for sure. I felt an electrical jolt in my gut every time my hand touched his.

  The laughter and conversation going on around the table had served as a great distraction. It wasn't until we were all stuffing our faces that I wondered if I should say something to Joel, and if so, what?

  He beat me to it. From out of the corner of my eye, I could see him turn to me as he said, "How's the new job?" He was speaking quietly enough that no one else around the table paid attention. I turned to face him, our eyes meeting for the first time all night, before I responded. I took a second to appreciate the unlikely chemistry we shared when we made eye contact.

  "I-it's…" I paused to clear my throat. "It's going good. It's good. I like it a lot." I took a drink of water. What's wrong with me? Keep it together, Gretchen.

  He leaned in so he could speak close to my ear. "Where's the boy? Are you still seeing him?"

  "No. Who Caleb? No, he and I were never really seeing each other, we're friends. We get along good and we go out sometimes, but I wouldn't say we're seeing each other."

  "Why isn't he here with you tonight?"

  "Because I didn't as
k him to come." I said, with an irritated edge to my voice. What was he getting at? Since when does he care what I'm doing? I hadn't seen him in a long time, and he hasn't cared enough to try to get in touch with me.

  "How's about let's just keep it simple, Mr. Perrin?" I said, in a moment of anger and bravery mixed together. "Let's say, questions about who I am or am not seeing are off-limits." My smile remained in place as I split a roll open with my fingernails and placed a ridiculous amount of butter inside of it like a big, fat butter sandwich. I took a bite of that butter sandwich just to spite Joel and all his boyfriend questions. I smiled around the delicious mouthful.

  "Joel," he said.

  My brows drew together in confusion.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Don't call me Mr. Perrin."

  "Okay, Joel." I said lifting a hand in mock surrender. Our whole conversation was in whispered tones. The rest of the people at the table were completely oblivious to what we were saying.

  "I don't like the thought of you with other guys," he said. Again. I groaned and looked up at the ceiling. Where did this guy get the emmer effing audacity?

  I took a deep, exasperated breath and said, "I think we've established that already, Mr. Perrin. We've also established that you are not my big brother. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's none of your business."

  A big hand came around the back of my neck as he moved in closer to whisper into my ear. My eyes darted around the table, but no one seemed to notice the hold he had on me. He wasn't hurting my neck, but he had a good, firm grip. He was definitely making his presence known back there.

  I could feel his breath on my ear as he whispered, "I'd prefer if you don't call me Mr. Perrin again, Gretchen. If you do, I'm going to have to take you to my car and show you what happens to girls who do that."

  My head whipped around so I could look at him. He must have been joking, right? There was an easy smile on that gorgeous face. The combination of black hair and green eyes had me so preoccupied that I could hardly remember what he just said. I was thinking I should be mad at him, but when I looked at his beautiful face, I couldn't remember why.