by DRAYER, GINA
“Because Simon’s a sadist and loves to see us suffer,” Matt said.
“Fuck you both. You’ll be singing a different tune when you get your commission checks. Isn’t Beth looking at houses?”
Matt chuckled and stood up, stretching his tall frame. “Don’t remind me. Never go house hunting with a hormonal woman. Trust me, the commission is already spent. So, while I’m not complaining, let’s talk about New York. We need to get our house in order before taking on another big client.”
“Agreed, but can’t we just have this moment?” Peter asked.
“I don’t think so. Kim tells me there’s a lot of unrest at the New York office. Seems like Harry is throwing another temper tantrum over coordinating with our web guys." Matt ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Yes, we said we’d wait until the Star Atlantic client was put to bed before we talked about it, but that office is turning into Lord of The Flies over there."
They’d moved Matt’s best employee, Kim, to New York to help with the transition. But even with her, they all knew it was just a matter of time before one of them had to go out there and take the reins. They were just spread too thin. Matt was preparing for a new baby and Peter's father was sick. Right now Simon was the logical choice.
He looked up at the clock. It was only one, and Simon was beat. He’d been at the office since four this morning coordinating with the London branch of Star Atlantic for today's final meeting with the executives.
“Monday, man. This time zone crap has really done a number on me. I’m going to cut out early and try and catch up on some sleep.” As he walked by he slapped Matt on the back. "We are going to make this work. I promised you both last year before we made the offer. I know there’s a lot riding on it, but we’ll figure it out.”
On his way to the elevators, Simon instructed his assistant to hold all his calls. “And I mean all my calls, Rachelle. Unless the building collapses, I don’t want to hear about it until Monday.”
The traffic downtown was a nightmare, and by the time he reached his apartment, Simon was ready for a beer, a quick shower, and a long nap. Not necessarily in that order. The way he was feeling, he might not make it past the sofa.
He slipped off his shirt and pants and made his way back to his bedroom. But instead of making a beeline to his bed, the laptop on the nightstand called to him like a siren. He moved the mouse to wake up the screen and told himself he was just going to take care of few personal things. But in all honesty, he was looking for a message from Julia.
When he didn’t see her logged onto the chat screen, he frowned. Closing the window, he opened his email. Her name was right at the top of the list, and Simon could feel his heart speed up.
Fuck. He was turning into a teenage girl, pining after a summer crush. What was he doing with this woman? He really needed to take a step back now before things crossed a line. Well, before they crossed another line.
But despite his own admonishment, Simon opened her message and devoured each word.
Simon,
So I was thinking about what you said the other night. I think you’re right. I’ve been stuck for a while now, and what you said about my portraits made a lot of sense. Your encouragement has been motivating. I’ve been doubting my work and not everyone in my life has been as positive. I needed to let go of those thoughts before I can move forward. I think I’m ready to branch out.
Thank you, again.
-J
That was it. He studied her message, reading meaning into the words. It almost sounded like she’d never been complimented. He couldn’t believe that. And he wasn't even trying to flatter her; her work was stunning. Even her nature pieces were perfectly framed and styled. She had an expert eye at capturing a single moment in time, and it brought her work to life.
He didn’t know much about her breakup. All Megan said about Julia’s ex was that he treated her badly and was a total cheating jackass. She’d mentioned he was controlling, but Simon still had a hard time seeing the vibrant, passionate woman he’d grown to know with someone who’d hold her down.
His head was pounding, and he really did need to get some sleep, but still he shot back a quick reply. He wanted to make sure she knew he was genuine. It might not have been the most eloquent message but it got his point across. With that done, Simon collapsed on his bed and was asleep in seconds.
He woke up around five feeling like he had a hangover, but without all the fun from the night before. He wandered into the kitchen and downed a fistful of aspirin, chasing them with a cold beer. Between the late nights and early mornings, he’d fallen into this strange pattern of sleeping in short three-hour blocks. But now that he didn't have to deal with an overseas client, Simon needed to get his schedule back to normal.
But there was no way he’d be able to sleep anytime soon. The looming problem that was the New York office weighed heavy on his mind. They all knew it was a time bomb waiting to explode, and something needed to happen fast.
But not this weekend. Everyone had earned some well-deserved time off and Simon was determined to push work aside for a few days.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Simon usually went out with the boys to relax, but they both had other plans. Matt had his pregnant wife, and Simon was pretty sure she would have him killed if he called this weekend. Matt had been working just as many hours as Simon and he knew it was stressful for them.
Peter was spending the weekend helping out at his ailing father’s shop. Despite needing the time off, Peter was solid. He would always be there for the people he loved.
So that left Simon alone on a Friday night. Normally, he’d pick up the phone and get an invitation to any number of social events going on in the city. Or he would have called one of the women who usually shared his bed. But the time alone would be nice for a change.
He flopped onto the sofa and turned on the television. It only took a few minutes of surfing through the five hundred plus channels before realizing there wasn’t one damn thing worth watching.
He turned off the TV and got up, pacing the apartment. The laptop in the other room taunted him until he finally relented and checked his email. There was another message from Julia, this one short and to the point.
Simon
I’ll be online after nine tonight.
-J
She didn’t invite him to chat. Didn’t ask him any questions. She didn’t even comment on his last email. It was clear she was leaving it up to him. And how could he refuse? That stormy-eyed girl had gotten under his skin.
When nine rolled around, Simon opened the chat window.
Simon: How’s the shooting going?
She responded right away, as if she’d been waiting for him to send the message.
Julia: That house is fantastic. Have you been there?
Simon: Not since we were kids.
Julia: Well, I have a lot of ideas. I’d love to run them past you.
And just like that, they ended up chatting into the morning hours. It started with her photography, but soon got more personal.
Julia was easy to talk to and he was surprised when he found himself telling her intimate details about his life. She already knew a lot about his family because of Megan, and he was able to talk about his dad and Megan without having to fill in the backstory.
Julia talked about her mom and the nursing facility she was in. He was surprised to find out she had inherited quite a large estate from her father, but she’d retained that money in a trust for her mother’s care. Despite all her money, Julia had been living off her teaching income and a small trust her grandmother had left her.
By two in the morning she finally begged off, but only after promising to talk to him again soon. And soon ended up being Saturday and Sunday night. Those conversations were lighter, ranging from their respective work to movies and music.
Julia: You can’t tell me you’re not a fan. I’m not sure I can talk to you anymore.
Simon: I didn’t say I wasn’t a
fan. I’m not sold on the reboot. I’m an original series fan.
Julia: Philistine!!! You must embrace all things Trek.
Simon: You’re not one of these people who dress up and go to conventions, are you?
Julia: Why? Do you have some kind of Uhura fantasy? Let me pull up your captain's log, and we can engage the forward thrusters.
Simon about spit out his coffee.
Simon: Tell me you have a uniform.
God, he could see it now, and while he’d never been into that kind of thing, with her he really wanted to give it a try.
Julia: I was kidding, perv. I do have a few old dancing costumes that still fit. How do you feel about Swan Lake?
Throughout the next week, she had become a regular part of his day. Julia was the last person he spoke to most nights and often the first one he heard from in the morning. Simon found himself checking for new messages during work. It was strange how a simple chat screen became something more.
But as much as he was enjoying what they had, it was inevitable that their virtual relationship would come to a head.
She was telling him about the issues she was having setting up a shot at the Harper estate. She was doing a series of self-portraits against the backdrop of the abandoned house. And just like that, Julia slipped into teacher mode. When she started explaining all the elements needed to set up your camera and the importance of lighting, he got lost.
But he didn’t stop her. Simon loved when she talked about her work. He could almost close his eyes and see her on the deck of the boathouse, waving her arms about with a bright gleam in those smoky blue eyes. Then out of the blue she asked an innocent question that stopped him short.
Julia: Will you be coming to the Fourth of July party?
After three weeks of nightly chats, they had avoided the obvious question. When would they see each other in person again?
It wasn’t that he didn’t think about seeing her or touching her. Christ. Those thoughts kept him up at night and in a perpetual state of arousal. And as the Fourth approached, it had been the only thing on his mind. Their connection online was real, but Simon was afraid it would turn awkward in person.
Simon: Yes. Peter and I will be up on Friday. Our other partner, Matt, and his wife are coming up on Saturday.
He waited for her reply. Her delayed response made him nervous and he got up from the sofa to get a beer. Was she looking forward to seeing him? He was acting like a teenage girl again. But when the message alert chime rang he hurried back to his laptop, beer forgotten on the counter.
Julia: Well, I guess I’ll see you when you get here. I’m going to log off now. I need to get to bed.
Julia: It’s not that I don’t want to chat. I’ve got six dozen mini tarts to make in the morning for the party. I love to bake. I don't get to make stuff like this very often. I might do crab puffs. They’re Megan’s favorite.
Julia: Do you have any special requests? Didn’t you say you were a big fan of cherries? I’m hitting the market in the morning so can I pick up anything?
Julia: I know there’s a caterer. Megan says not to worry about it, but I love baking. I’ve said that already. Really, I need to get some sleep. These late nights have been killing my sleep schedule.
Simon couldn’t help but smile at her rapid-fire posts, one after another. He’d noticed the last few weeks she tended to ramble when she was nervous. Deciding to put her out of her misery, he replied.
Simon: Yes. I like cherry. Goodnight, Julia. I’ll see you tomorrow night.
He logged off and went to his room to pack a bag. Later, he fell into bed anxious and excited, like a kid headed to Disneyland.
For once, he was actually looking forward to his family’s yearly parade of wealth. In college, he went just to please his father. Later, he started using the event as a way to court clients. But this summer, his reason for going had stormy blue eyes that haunted his every waking hour.
Unfortunately, the next day was a steaming pile of shit. The New York office was falling apart. Kim called, threatening to quit. She was one of their top designers, and they couldn’t afford to lose her. The creative director, Charlie Filer, wasn’t in the mood to play nice. He'd been rejecting with no explanation every project board she put in for review, preferring to work with his original creative team.
To top that off, Simon was worried this was going to impact the final production on the Star Atlantic campaign. They still had two more print runs to do before they were officially done with that client.
They all assumed Simon was going to move to New York that fall and take over the day-to-day operations, but only after he’d finished up with his current clients in Chicago. It was looking more and more like he would have to move up that timetable. After scheduling a conference call with the design team in New York, Simon called Megan.
“Office of Magical Workings and Party Planning. How can I amaze you today?”
“Hey, Meg. I’m not going to be able to make it until Saturday.”
“So help me, Simon. If you skip out on this party, I will hunt you down and skin you alive.”
“Down, girl. Things are mess at the office and I have to take care of it. I’ll be there first thing in the morning, promise. Would you mind letting Julia know? I told her I’d be there tonight.”
“Oh? And when did you talk with her?”
So Julia hadn’t said anything to Megan about their nightly chats. He felt uncomfortable saying anything more, knowing she hadn’t confided in his sister. “You gave me her email, remember? We’ve exchanged some messages. She asked if I was coming to the party and I let her know Peter and I were going to be there tonight. I just didn’t want her to think… Fuck, Megan. Just tell her I’m not coming until the morning. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Okay. We’ll see you Saturday. Just don’t screw this up with Julia, big bro. She deserves someone who will treat her nice."
Megan hung up before he could respond. What was she talking about? They didn’t have anything to screw up. At least not yet. But Simon did have every intention of changing that this weekend.
Chapter Thirteen
Modern Girl Tip #17: Let Him Down Gently—Even with careful planning things can go wrong. The best way to nip things in the bud is to be honest. Tell him you had a great time—even if you didn’t—but you’re not looking for a relationship. Period.
“Julia, why are we here?” Megan asked as she pushed the cart down the aisle.
“I told you. I need more eggs, and the chocolate I got yesterday was too sweet. I need some with a higher cocoa content,” Julia said.
She pulled a carton of brown eggs out of the case and inspected them. The recipe called for four eggs and if she was going to make eight batches she’d need at least three dozen. She grabbed two more dozen and a couple pounds of butter for good measure. You could never have too much butter.
“You know what I mean. There is a caterer for tonight’s party. I know you wanted to make something, but how did you making lemon tarts end up becoming the entire dessert menu? You’ve already made four different tarts.” Megan grabbed a bottle of coffee creamer out of the dairy case and followed Julia down the baking aisle. “Does this have anything to do my brother?”
“Of course not.” Julia turned around and smiled, trying to laugh off the suggestion. “What gave you that impression? I just want to bake and I don't get many opportunities to make tarts and truffles these days.” Julia held up two bags of chocolate and compared the ingredients. “What do you think? The sixty percent cocoa or the seventy-five?"
Megan ignored her question. “Bullshit.” Her lips pulled down tight in a disapproving frown and she put her hands on her hips. “That first month you lived with me, we ate pie with every meal. This is anxiety cooking, plain and simple. So what is it? Are you still angry with Simon and don’t want to see him? Or are you pissed at him for not coming last night?”
“Honestly Megan, your imagination is running wild. I don’t have any reason
to be angry at Simon. Now the Belgian or the Costa Rican chocolate?”
“Denial, much? If you don’t want to talk to me, your best friend, see if I care. Get both so we don’t have to come back." Megan grabbed both bags of chocolate and dumped them into the cart. She turned and left in a huff.
Sighing, Julia trailed behind her to the cosmetics section of the market. Megan was wrong. She wasn’t anxiety cooking. She was just helping out. The caterer’s menu only had one dessert. That was not nearly enough for the number of people Megan said attended the party.
Really, once she started the tarts, it wasn’t any trouble rolling out mini apple pies. Or the cherry turnovers she made for Simon. And with all the fruit desserts, she needed something different. Thus, the truffles.
This had nothing to do with Simon.
Megan picked up a bar of handmade soap, bringing it to her nose. “Oh, I like this one.” She passed the bar to Julia.
The scent was a bright orange and smelled like summer. “I like it.”
“I hate the soap at the house. I don’t think my skin will ever forgive me.” Megan grabbed the four bars on the table and tossed them in the cart along with a few bottles with the same logo. “Now, are we done with your baking crisis? There’s still a lot to do, and Simon said he’d be at the house this morning. He might even be there when we get back. He was very insistent that I let you know he was still coming.”
A hot blush crept into Julia’s cheeks, and she looked away. They had just been chatting, that’s it. “I can’t think of anything else I need.”
“Good. Heddie had someone deliver the dress to the house. I’ll make sure it’s in your room for tonight.
The rest of the morning flew by, and Julia didn’t even notice the time until Megan came to drag her out of the kitchen.
“The caterer is complaining, dear. Evidently, he doesn’t like you directing his staff.”
“Well, if he’d given any of them proper training, I wouldn’t have had to tell them what to do.”
