by Gardner, A.
The Engagement Game
by A. Gardner
Copyright © 2012 A. Gardner
Kindle Edition
The Engagement Game is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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To my husband, my best friend.
Chapter One
I was screwed from the beginning when Chad casually twisted the corner of his mouth, pretending to look for his wallet. He blushed when I graciously offered to pay, assuring me this type of thing never happened. I should have considered that night a red flag but the way his hazel eyes seemed to caress the edges of my cheek with every lingering glance made me blind. I told myself it was okay. Lots of strong, independent women paid for dinner on a first date. It was an amendment to the twenty first century dating guide.
Fast forward a year later and I moved in with the guy. I was eighteen, fresh out of high school, and I'd been promoted to Assistant Manager at a Tans, Tans, Plus! And Chad, he got into UCLA. My cards were stacking up nicely. Until three months later when I checked our mailbox. My eyes skimmed through a few grocery ads before stopping at an official letter from the Dean's Office. Chad never showed up for class on the first day of school. He had a whole lot of loan money that needed to be paid back.
"You opened my mail?" he screamed.
"Yeah, I opened your mail. Sue me. You've been lying to me for the past three months!" And immediately my brain added the words - maybe longer. "And now you have a bunch of debt to pay back!"
"Uh." The blank stare. The fiddling fingers. The subtle twist at the corner of his mouth. He already spent the freakin' money!
"You spent it all, didn't you?" I pointed my finger at him. Finger pointing was on my list of things I said I'd never do. My mom did that. But in the moment I couldn't not. Chad had forced me to be a girl I didn't want to be.
"Uh." Another 'uh'. How intelligent. Holly was right. We should have parted ways after date one, but he was a way better kisser than Mikey Higby. I was a sucker for full lips and minimal drool.
The next day Chad and I split up but I wasn't rid of him yet. A month later I got the call. My credit card was over limit and how would I like to pay for it? Credit card? What credit card?
"That bastard," Holly seethed while I cried over a pint of mint chocolate chip. "He blows his tuition money and opens a credit card in your name to pay it back. Then leaves? Bastard."
"Is that all you can say?" I managed to force out the sentence through sniffles.
"Dick head. I could say more."
I shook my head, grateful that she'd refrained from using the words 'I told you so'. Holly never had a problem saying what she thought. Being the gorgeous blonde that she was, she never had to watch her mouth. A perk of pilates and religious moisturizing, as she put it.
The two of us were like Barbie and Teresa. Holly was Barbie of course. She had the look, the smile, and was annoyingly perfect at everything . . . except tennis. I was the dark-haired friend that wore blue instead of pink. I was the Teresa. And I'd just been taken for a ride by Ken's dumbass limo driver.
I was twenty thousand dollars in the hole, broke, and single.
"I can't believe I wasted my entire Senior year on . . . him."
"Hun," Holly handed me a tissue. "First, unless you're going for a goth sort of look wipe that mascara. And second, the signs were there." Signs? Who has time to see the signs when they're knee deep in teenage hormones and Alanis Morissette angst?
"I swear. I'll never ignore the signs again."
That was the night Holly and I made a pact. We would move away, get better jobs, party through our twenties, and never settle for less than ten figures.
Now here I was, a twenty-nine year old geriatric nurse living in San Francisco watching my kid sister's college roommate get plastered at her engagement party.
"Wow," Leah comments. She rests her elbow on a mint-colored silk table cloth. "So limber." She snidely smiles as her roommate bends so low, her new in-laws get a look at her pink low-rise Victoria's Secret panties.
"Shouldn't you do something, sis?"
"Eh." Leah tosses a strand of long caramel hair over her bare shoulder, the same hair color as mine. "Jenna left me hangin' when Bobby Nortsen asked for my number last week." I raise an eyebrow. Letting my quizzical stare wander to the glowing paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. They were meant to look like stars amongst the green decor. "I was wasted. And instead of taking down his number for me and dragging me outside, she let me linger like an idiot until I eventually puked on his North Face hiking boots. They were brand new."
"Right." I nod. The ties of sisterhood. Everyone keeps score. I size up the groom, catching Leah's attention in the process.
"Kat," she rolls her eyes. My little sister was more than familiar with the rules, having got a good taste of them when she brought home a guy with grass-stained Levi's for Sunday dinner.
"What?"
"Fine." Her thumbs move to her cell phone. She couldn't stay off it for more than a minute. Which is why she once used LOL in a psychology paper. My response to her rant about nearly failing was LMAO. "What's your take on Keith?" My eyes move from the shine on his leather shoes to the edges of his suit coat. Specially tailored.
"He smiles crooked."
"I know," Leah agrees. "It took me awhile to figure out why Jenna likes him so much." She cups her hand over to mouth to hold in a snigger. "It's the size of his-"
"Pocket book," I finish. My eyes go wide as I look to the table of elderly seniors next to us. Leah shrugs, not really concerned about being polite.
"Actually I was going to say package."
I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand and adjust the hem of my charcoal pencil skirt. I take a final sip of my wine and stand up when a distant once-over aimed in my direction forces me to sit back down. He was tan, gorgeous, and wearing Dolce. I run my fingers through my curled locks, wishing Holly was here to share the eye candy. Her ballet students had a dance recital. I got into nursing and she became a dance teacher. Hell, what was I saying? She'd snag him from me in a heartbeat.
"Who is that?" I hide my flushed forearms. Leah grins, holding up her cell phone.
"That is Keith's cousin, Rex. Totally your type Kat. His family owns a bunch of hotels in Europe or something." Score. The only problem was I sucked at opening lines. Holly usually came along and did a giggle hair toss that drew attention to the fullness of her lips. After Chad, I'd spent my nights studying for clinicals. Nowadays, I spent most of my nights with the Lifetime Movie Network if Holly didn't drag me out for a drink.
"Right," Leah clears her throat. "I'm gonna Google him." I put my hand up in refusal but my words don't object. It wasn't like I was going to waltz up and introduce myself anyway. "He lives in London, has a french bulldog named Ozzy, and he's . . . single."
"Of course he is." I gently touch the rim of my wine glass as he flashes a pearly smile at his newly engaged cousin. He puts a hand in his suit coat, smoothing his perfectly gelled hazelnut hair. His leather shoes turn in my direction and before I can check the neckline of my blouse, I realize he's walking towa
rds me.
I turn around, biting my lip and expecting to see a table of half dressed Playboy models behind me. Nope. It was me. That or he wanted to borrow the empty chair at our table. My chest goes tight, forcing me to hold my breath. Inflammation of the cheeks. Nice one, Kat.
"Hi," I hastily blurt out as soon as he's within earshot.
"Hi." His dreamy voice soothes my blazing skin. And that accent . . . "I'm Rex."
"I kn-" Leah glares at me before I give away the fact that I had my little sister look him up online. "Kat."
"Leah," my little sis chimes in. I purse my lips as Rex turns his head and grins.
"You dance, Kat?"
"Sure." That was a lie. I attempted to dance. I could do slow but if a fast song came on I usually fell victim to an awkward sway. Holly was the dancer. She could grind her way into any man's checkbook.
Rex grabs my hand and pulls me to the dance floor. His fingers lace perfectly between mine, making my heart drum louder than I was expecting. I step carefully in my black Christian Louboutins. Holly's styling tip - to attract the right men, look the part. They were expensive heels for a nurse's salary but worth the investment. They made me calves look slimmer.
I smile, giving Rex a glimpse of the dimple on my right cheek. The DJ starts playing Adele's "Someone Like You". Jenna's request. Her face slowly morphs into a misty-eyed, lovestruck expression.
Curled hair, romantic lighting, gorgeous guy. This is what prom was supposed to be like. Instead my prom was a nightmare, starting from the rip in my glittery turquoise gown to the ticket I got for holding Chad's liquor as he stumbled down Cherrywood Avenue.
"So how do you know Jenna and Keith?"
"Jenna is my little sister's roommate."
"That was your little sister?" he jokes.
"Exactly how old do you think I am?" I furrow an eyebrow. My serious stare makes him reach for his collar.
"I didn't mean-"
"I know." I smile. He chuckles and twirls me in a circle.
"Boyfriend?" he eagerly asks.
"No. You?"
"A boyfriend? I'm afraid not. Though I swear that ginger bloke at the bar winked at me once." He looks pleased to hear me laugh. His hand presses firmer on the small of my back. I stand up straighter, praying that I'd flexed my lats at just the right moment to impress him. So far Rex was hitting everything on the checklist - nice teeth, stylish hair, expensive cologne, tailored suit. But there was still a question I hadn't asked.
"Rex," I whisper close to his ear. "What do you do for a living?" He nods as if knowing that question was coming. Red flag answers included freelance consulting, boring business stuff, and I work for the "family".
"I work for my father. He owns a string of hotels that will hopefully be mine one day." Pass. "What about you Kat?"
"I'm a nurse." I see the casual upwards glance followed by a widening of the eyes. He was picturing me in nurse's outfit. Guys and uniforms. I never quite understood the fascination.
"Wow."
"Is that a good wow or a bad wow?"
"I'm just impressed that's all," he replies. But there was nothing impressive about delivering food trays and collecting bedpans. I was basically a glorified waitress that got to shove needles in the customer's arm. I can still remember my first week of twelve hour shifts at Harrison Memorial. That was the first week I gained a new respect for hazelnut lattes and comfortable shoes. "I pegged you as more of a . . ." He pauses.
"Nine to five office girl?" I finish.
"Perhaps." His hand gently smoothes the back of my blouse. My minds races through a series of fantasies, the main one being me as London housewife with a chubby baby called Henry. I waved at the front door of our British mansion in a couture cocktail dress as Rex hopped into the backseat of a Rolls Royce.
"I'm actually more interesting than I seem." Another lie. All I had time for was work, and when I wasn't working or laughing with Holly at the gym I was snapping pictures with my Canon Rebel.
"A wild child at heart. I had a feeling."
"What gave it away?" I tease. "The dragon tattoo on my neck? I knew I should've done my thigh. Much more conservative." Rex chuckles as his eyes skim the curve of my shoulder.
"Listen Kat," he begins. The music stops and Rex loses his train of thought. He glances at his Rolex. "Bollocks. I have to go." My heart sinks.
"Meeting someone for drinks?"
"No." He shakes his head. "Charity auction."
"Well then," I smile, taking a small step back. Pulling away from his tight embrace was torture. "I wouldn't want you to be late."
"Of course," he agrees. He takes another look at the gleam in my amber eyes. "Can I ring you sometime?" My stomach flutters.
"Yes," I breath. Ring me anytime! He pulls out his phone and slowly punches in my phone number as I repeat it to him.
I was going to be thirty next year and I'd spent years waiting for a man that met my criteria. A man that would take care of me, that wouldn't run off with my wallet and stick me with a life-long venture of bill paying. Rex was the guy I was starting to think didn't exist because the ones that did exist were always taken. I finally had a shot at a free one.
I sit next to Leah, still in a daze.
"Uh o-m-g," she mutters. "I'd totally psych a mentally unstable Justin Bieber fan for another look at that a-"
"Shhhhh," an elderly woman within earshot finally scolds her.
* * *
"NO," Holly exclaims over the phone. "Has he called you yet?" I reach for a bottle of water in the fridge of my one bedroom apartment. In the ad, my landlord described it as cozy with historic charm. What he really meant was small with no place to fit a dining table, but I made it my own as soon as I moved in. I had the walls repainted, the wood floor refinished, and I even talked my landlord into investing in a new sink. The old one was barely deep enough to fit all my cereal bowls.
"It's 1 a.m."
"Right."
"And I have to work in the morning," I add.
"So you won't be joining Leslie and I for drinks tomorrow? Oh wait. Nope. You'll probably have plans by then." The excitement in her voice almost matched mine.
"You really think he'll call that fast?"
"I would," she giggles.
"Why are you laughing?"
"No reason." The tone of her voice shifts near the end of her sentence. A dead giveaway that she was lying. The first time she lied to me was in grade school when I sent a note to a freckled boy named Bryan at recess. It was one of the gutsiest things I'd ever done. Do you like me? Check yes or no. He checked no. Holly didn't have the heart to deliver it. Instead she forged a new one that made me smile rather than cry. It was a little white lie to spare my feelings, but a week later she decided that she liked Bryan too. I insisted that she choose someone else. "We'll let him decide," she said. She already knew what his answer would be.
"You're such a liar," I taunt.
"No," she lies again.
"Whatever." I take a sip of water and head to my bedroom. I neatly place a row of beige throw pillows next to my dresser. "I'm going to bed."
"Okay," she sniggers again. I shake my head and then the thought occurs to me. The nervous giggling. Answering on the first ring at 1 in the morning. The unusual can-do attitude at such a late hour. I let my jaw drop.
"Holly Ann Cates," I recite. "You met someone too, didn't you?"
"I didn't want to kill your moment." She yawns. "I'll tell you about it tomorrow."
"It is tomorrow," I remind her.
"Whatever."
"And I only have one question," I reply. She knew what I was going to say next. Holly was well aware of the rules, having made up most of them.
"Yes," she immediately answers. "He qualifies."
Chapter Two
Dr. Saxten is a perv. It is a good thing we only cross paths once a week, sometimes not at all. He always flashes a twisted smile and acts as if my eyes are further down than physically possible. Like me and every other nurse on the se
cond floor didn't notice it.
His eyes skim the top of my scrubs. Scrubs. The most unflattering pieces of clothing next to adult footie pajamas and corduroy overalls. He nods with an annoyingly bouncy brow. I force a half smile and pretend to read the chart in my hands.
"How was the party?" he asks.
"Great," I politely respond. Asking me about my weekends was becoming a regular thing and thank heavens for Sadie's advice. I might have been coaxed into an uncomfortable perv date if it wasn't for her. "I don't care if it's true or not," she said between bites of her poppy seed bagel. "Unless you want to chit-chat-smack-smack with Dr. P, always say you have plans. Always." I wasn't the only one who referred to him as something other than the words on his name tag.
"A bit hung over today," he winks. I cringe like I've tasted something sour. "Don't worry. I won't go reporting you to HR." I smile in reply as he pauses for a brief second. The longest second of my day. Was he expecting a song of gratitude or something? I take a huge breath.
"Have a nice day Doc," I mumble. I speed walk down the hall to check on one of my regulars - Earl. A sweet elderly man with prostate cancer.
"Knock knock." I quietly push open the door to find Earl beaming in his hospital bed. His white hair is matted like he's had a rough night. "I come bearing meds."
"Oh bless you, Katherine." He scratches the side of his nose, pushing away a tray of half eaten oatmeal and crumbled up toast.
"Earl," I raise an eyebrow. "What's this? You skipping meals on me?"
"Eh," he waves a bony hand. I hand him his meds and watch while he swallows. "I don't really like the stuff."
"Eat it anyway. I don't want you to spend the day with an upset stomach."
"That's exactly what I told him," a firm voice chimes in from the corner. Earl's son, Jack, looks up from his paper. He runs a hand through his dirty blond hair and scruffy face. "Didn't I Pop?" Earl rolls his eyes.
"This one needs more medication than I do." He jokingly gestures at his son.
"Love you too Dad," Jack replies. "Nice to see you again Kat."
