by Scott, Lisa
Oh, God. He could lie on the fly. He was truly my dream guy in every way.
“Isn’t that strange? I’ll make sure the client sends you a new one.” Jillian turned to her fish tank.
Nolan looked at me, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.
I gave him a reassuring thumbs-up.
“Come here Nolan, and let me tell you about this fish. It’s a special fish—symbolic in so many ways. I’ve had it for years. Decades, almost.”
“Really?” His voice sounded strangled.
I laughed and scooted back to my desk.
Half an hour later he walked by my cubicle and gestured for me to come into his office. He closed the door behind him and the two of us started laughing uncontrollably for at least five minutes.
He wiped a tear from his eye. “She noticed the black spot on its tail.”
I swore.
He wrapped his hand around my wrist. “No it’s all good. Because I told her…I told her…that fish get age spots.” He laughed, sucking in huge gulps of air. “And she believed me.”
I fell into him laughing and he wrapped his arm around my waist to help hold me up. God, did I want this man’s hands all over me.
We stopped laughing and stared at each other for a moment in are-we-going-to-kiss mode. Then Dandy Bear started singing about making friends and special memories.
We both jumped, breaking our embrace. “It’s not creepy?” Nolan whispered.
We started laughing again. I felt like I’d been working out, I was so hot and breathless from our giggle fest. My hair was falling out of its clip.
“But seriously, how are we going to sell that thing?” I asked.
He reached out and tucked a curl of hair behind my ear. “After what you pulled off today, I have total faith in you.”
***
We went out to lunch together for the rest of the week and spent long meetings in his office coming up with slogans for Dandy Bear: Did we say Dandy Bear? We meant Randy Bear.
“Handy Bear? Like an old bear who fixes things? Handy to have around? Maybe he comes with a tool?” I offered.
“Tool.” Nolan almost fell on the floor at the one. If we were in a laughing contest, I’m not sure which one of us would win. It seemed like we could go on and on.
And the fun wasn’t limited to the two of us. Tom and Chuck had a grand time at my expense, walking by and making kissy noises and leaving me school Valentines on my desk signed with dirty greetings like “Blow me….some more balloons.” They were all signed with “Nolan,” as if I’d believe they were really from him. I’d crumple them and toss them in the trash before Nolan could see.
The practical jokes didn’t stop there. Since I’d declared “no more jokes,” they’d been tormenting me all week long with prank phone calls and joke faxes. But I was determined to do nothing.
Friday afternoon, I was hoping for an invitation to get together with Nolan that weekend, but he only said, “You’re not taking the Randy Bear home are you?”
“No, no. I think I’d need to consult with an exorcist afterward. He’s all yours if you want him.”
“Oh, right now we have two. We can both take one home. Another perk about working here.” He winked at me. “See you Monday.”
So I went home and had dessert for dinner. Brownies don’t taste as good by yourself as they do eating them with a hot guy.
***
But the weekend wasn’t a total disappointment. Once a month my mother had a marathon cooking session, stocking the freezer with homemade sauce, manicotti, ravioli and other Italian delectables. My brother and I ate what didn’t fit in the fridge and took home what we couldn’t eat. Which was usually a lot. My mother liked shopping for bulk discounts. It was a good thing—she was happy, we were happy, my father was happy, the corner grocer was happy.
I showed up at six on Sunday, and I could smell the garlic and basil from the street. I dashed inside and my brother Tony was already sitting at the table, fork and knife in hand and a steaming plate of pasta in front of him. It would be the first of many helpings. He’d been hit with the family’s heft gene, too, but he wore it well at six-foot-four. He looked like a strong Italian boy whose mother fed him well. Which is exactly what he was.
“Jen, thought you might not be coming,” he said.
“If I don’t show up for the monthly meal, call the police and have them check on my welfare.”
“Jenny, there’s my beautiful girl.” My father hugged me until the air was sucked from my lungs and I squeaked.
He let go and I looked down. My father was the only man who’d ever called me beautiful.
“What? I can’t hug you anymore?” He turned to the kitchen. “Theresa, your daughter doesn’t want to show her father physical affection anymore.”
Mom ran out of the kitchen with a sauce-covered wooden spoon. “Jennifer Marie. Why would you do that to your father? We are a very demonstrative family. Do you know what this will do to him? Do you want to slowly kill your father? Do you?”
I sat at the table and dropped my head in my hands. “I still want to hug Dad. It’s just…I’m not beautiful. I’m cute—on a good day. But I’m okay with that.”
While Dad grumbled in protest, Mom crossed herself with the hand holding the spoon. Sauce splattered on the wall.
Tony held up his hand. “Don’t look at me, you’re my sister. I can’t say if you’re hot or not, that’s gross. But you’ve got a great personality.”
“Excellent, because guys are constantly huddled together at bars saying, ‘Hey, did you see the personality on that one? You shoulda seen the girl in Providence I hooked up with once. Boy, was she a conversationalist.’” I sighed. I hated being whiny like this. Normally I was fine with my appearance. “I’m sorry, there’s just this guy at work, and he’s gorgeous and so out of my league. I’m a little sensitive right now.”
“Hasn’t he noticed your wonderful personality?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, I can make him laugh and laugh, but nobody ever laughed a guy into bed.”
My mother crossed herself. “Jennifer Marie!”
“Sorry, Ma. But I am twenty-five, you know.”
She looked up at the ceiling and then sighed. “Take him some of my meatballs. Show him what a good cook you are.”
“But I can’t cook.”
“You could if you tried,” Mom said.
My brother grinned. “She did try. There’s still sauce on the ceiling in the kitchen from the ravioli incident.”
“Well, that’s how I got your father to marry me. My food is magic.” She said the word “magic” in a drawn out breathy voice.
“What?” Dad looked at her. “It wasn’t your food. I married you because I was scared what would happen if I didn’t.” He turned to me. “You’ve seen her brothers. They threatened to bet the crap out of me if I didn’t do right by her.” Dad punched a fist into the palm of his hand a few times.
Mom pushed his plate of spaghetti out of reach and wagged her spoon at him. More sauce went flying. “That’s not true.”
“That’s the way I remember it,” Dad said.
I rubbed my temples. You’re here for the food. You’re here for the food.
“Let me get this straight—I’m supposed to threaten to beat him up like Ma’s brothers did to you until he asks Jenny out?” Tony shrugged. “No problem. Anything for you, kiddo.”
“Please don’t beat him up,” I said. “He’s so pretty.”
“And so are you,” Dad said.
“You’re a lovely girl,” Mom agreed. “You have such a beautiful smile.”
I screamed.
Dad frowned. “That could be part of your problem, the screaming. Am I right, Teresa?”
I rubbed my temples. “I don’t always scream, I just hate that. Such a beautiful smile. It’s the consolation prize of compliments.”
Dad sat down next to me and put his arm around me. “Your gorgeous smile is just one of the great things you have. There are so many wonder
ful things about you, sweetheart, if God had made you any prettier or funnier or kinder than you are, it wouldn’t be fair to the other girls.”
I struggled to swallow. Every few years, remarkable words lined up in my father’s head and they marched out of his mouth in a perfect, beautiful row. “Thanks, Dad. Guess I need to find someone like you.”
“Ewww,” Tony said.
Dad ignored him and kissed my cheek. “The most gorgeous girls attract anyone—and usually for the wrong reasons.” He wrinkled his nose and waved his hand like he was shooing away a fly. “ But girls like you attract the best ones. Because they’re the ones who can see how special you are no matter what you look like.”
“Umm, thanks?” It’d be a few more years before his words lined up the right way again. Clearly, my thick skin had been earned spending time with my family.
“No problem, honey,” Dad said.
I smiled and nodded, but he was wrong. Nolan was one of the good ones, and he liked what he saw across the hall at work—beautiful, perfect models. I was good for a laugh. “You know what would make me feel better? Lasagna. And lots of it.”
My mother beamed. “I told you, my food is magic.”
***
After much protesting, I took a container of manicotti for Nolan. She made me swear on Nana’s grave that I would give it to him and see what happened. I wondered if Nana was aware of how often her name was invoked in family deception and bribes. She was going to be one angry ghost if she ever decided to make an appearance.
Monday morning, I headed for the break room to put the manicotti in the fridge. Tom and Chuck were leaning against the counter, laughing.
“It’s nine-fifteen. Time for a break already?” I asked.
“You’re going to want to sit down and take a break too when you hear this,” Tom said.
My heart sped up. “What?”
“Nolan had a lot of questions about you this weekend,” Tom said.
I did sit down. “Shut up.”
“It’s true….” Tom said.
“But…” Chuck interrupted.
“What? But what?” I asked.
“But what.” Chuck laughed. “That sounded like butt wipe.”
“Just tell me what,” I demanded.
“He was out with all these models. The ones from across the hall. But he was asking about you. Honest,” Tom said.
“Shut. Up.”
“I’m serious!” Tom said.
“You’re mean. Stop with the jokes already. I’ve stopped pranking you, can’t you stop pranking me?”
“You should go out with him,” Chuck said.
These jerks were setting me up to be embarrassed. “That would be fun for you to watch, wouldn’t it? You think I’m stupid? I would never ask Nolan out.” How embarrassing would that be? And I’d certainly ruin our friendship. I’d learned that the hard way before.
Chuck shrugged. “Like we said, he was asking about you. But from the looks of the girls he was with, I don’t think you’re Nolan’s type.”
The only kind of model I could ever be is for a squishy, friendly doll that giggles when you poke her belly. It’s true. I do giggle when poked in the belly. But still, for these two jerks to come right out and insult me like that? It was just wrong. “So you’re saying I’m not hot enough for Nolan?”
And of course, Nolan walked into the room. Thank you Gods of timing.
“Did I hear my name?” Nolan asked.
I tapped my finger against my nose. “I don’t think so. We were talking about Nolan Ryan. And how much we miss him in the game.”
“I don’t follow sports. Who is he?”
“Are you kidding?” I asked.
“No. I’m the one male on the planet who doesn’t like sports. Can’t play ‘em, don’t watch ‘em.”
So he does have a flaw, I thought.
“We were talking about all your lovely friends we met Saturday night,” Tom said.
Nolan opened the refrigerator. He did not look happy. “They’re my sister’s friends, really. They use me to pose as their boyfriend when guys hit on them.”
“Your sister?” I asked while Tom and Chuck both started laughing.
“Yeah, she models with the agency across the hall. She didn’t want me to mention it to anyone here. She thought Dunner might not use her in any ads because we’re related.”
“Your sister is a model. Huh.”
Tom and Chuck lost it. “You should have seen how upset Jenny was when she heard you were out with a bunch of models.”
“Shut. Up.” I used my best threatening voice, but I don’t think they heard me through their guffaws. They staggered out into the hall, leaving me alone with Nolan. Friend zone here we come, I thought.
“You saw those jokers out this weekend?” I asked. “Those crazy fellas?”
“Yeah, I guess they know some of my sister’s friends.”
“The models.” I sighed.
“I only caught the tail end of your conversation, but did you really say you’re not hot enough for me?”
What shade of red was I turning? “You hang out with drop-dead size zeros. I don’t think it’s the world’s biggest wrong assumption.”
“It’s possible they might drop dead. They never eat.”
“Definitely not dessert for lunch, that’s for sure.”
“Jenny, I’m attracted to you because you’re so different from them.”
My head spun. “Um…thanks? I certainly wouldn’t want to be compared to a model.” But wait. Attracted? I did hear that word, right? Not like contracted, as in a business relationship?
He did a face palm. “That came out wrong. Thank God you’re the copywriter. What I meant was, those women are boring. And they’re so skinny I want to start a charity to raise money to feed them.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“They must lose their sense of humor when they lose weight,” he said. “I suppose it’s hard to be happy when you’re starving all the time. They always look miserable. They never laugh at my jokes. They think I’m a giant goofball. ‘Portia’s silly brother,’ they call me.”
I waggled my eyebrows. “I have a goofball fetish, you know.”
He blushed. “Jenny, I’m very attracted to you. You’re like…a blooming cherry tree in winter. Am I ever not smiling when I’m around you?”
I didn’t even try to hold back my grin. “This is all good stuff. Keep going.”
“I’ve been taking things slow because I just started here. An instant office romance seemed like a bad idea.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Shelby said, walking into the room.
“Private conversation going on here,” I said.
“I was waiting in the hall to be sure I heard everything, so no, it’s not private anymore. But don’t worry about a relationship, Nolan. Joy and Tom have their secret little fling going on. Charlotte dated Tristan before she married someone else when he dumped her, and Jillian is constantly sleeping with men here, often right on the premises. I’d say you two are good to go. You’re already making all of us gag with how cute you are together.” She opened the fridge and looked in. “Ooh, manicotti.”
“Don’t touch that!” I said.
“Geez.” She grabbed a yogurt and left.
I turned to Nolan. “What were you saying about office romances? And was there something about my eyes?”
“That was coming. They’re beautiful and full of mischief. And as for the romance, I’m glad to hear it’s allowed. Possibly even encouraged here? But I also wanted time to be sure you felt the same way about me.”
I was waiting for the punch line, but he was serious. “I’m pretty sure all women feel that way about you. Except for the nasty models,” I said.
“They don’t. Trust me. Women might say they want guys with feelings and all that, but they really like manly men who know their sports and pick up hammers instead of paintbrushes. They’ll take farts over art, I’ve seen it time and again.” He set his hand
on my arm. “Is it a wonder I’m single? I’m not doing this well. I like you, Jenny.”
“I like you, too. But I’m not going to change. I’m not going to lose thirty pounds and start wearing makeup and expensive clothes like Joy. This is what you get. I’m happy with myself, but most guys don’t want this. Not for the long run, anyway.” I wish had something else to offer him. Was it appropriate to talk about what I’d be willing to do in the bedroom? “Hang on.” I dashed to the fridge and grabbed the manicotti. “This is for you.”
His eyes bulged. “Did you make that? You can cook?”
“No. But my mom can. She makes this big meal once a month.”
“And I’d be invited if we were dating?”
“I think they’d abduct you and force you to come. So, yeah. My mom’s manicotti. One of the perks of dating me. If you want to.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into an embrace. “I do. And I can thank all the guys before me for being too stupid to see how perfect and wonderful you are. Do you think I’ll pass all your screening tests?”
I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “Shelby uses one for real. I’m more of an essay-question girl.”
“I’ll write the best one ever.”
We beamed at each other.
“Tom and Chuck suck,” I said. “They almost ruined this.”
“They told the truth. I was asking about you.”
“But they were laughing when they said it. It’s like they wanted me to think it was a joke. I wish I hadn’t called off all pranks. Although, there isn’t a big enough prank to make them pay,” I said.
Nolan drummed his fingers on the counter for a moment, then snapped them. “Yes, there is.”
By the time he’d finishing laying it all out, I was gripping my sides, laughing. “With time, you could be better at this than me.”
“I learned from the master.” He held up the manicotti. “Can I eat this now?”
***
We decided to wait a week to pull off the gag. It was the biggest one ever, with almost everyone in the office playing a part. I had to get Jillian in on it, and she was more than happy to help. I swear she spent three days pitching us ideas on how to fine-tune it. She put more effort into our plan than she did on the accounts for most of her clients.
