A Girl Like You

by Maria Geraci

  Writing up this article from my kitchen table has got me thinking. No interruptions, no telephones ringing. Maybe working from home isn’t such a bad idea. I could turn my guest room into an office and sit around all day in my pajamas. Richard and Jackie and I could carpool to Orlando for the Monday-morning staff meeting. We could eat the Krispy Kremes on the drive over and catch up on what’s going on with one another’s lives. It actually sounds kind of fun.

  I print out the article and hand it to Trip.

  He looks at me funny. “‘I’ve Been a Bad, Bad Boy’?”

  “That’s not really the title,” I say quickly. “It’s more there as a placeholder.”

  Trip makes a grunting sound of skepticism and begins reading. Occasionally he frowns, grimaces once, and laughs twice (although I think it’s sarcastic laughter). He tosses the pages on the coffee table in front of him. “Yeah, you pretty much nailed it.”

  “So what parts do you want me to cut out?”

  “None.”

  “But—”

  “It’s all true and it’s all going to come out anyway, so you might as well be the one to write it.”

  “So…you’re okay with all this? I mean, it violates the contract I signed.”

  “Screw the contract; that was Chuck’s idea and I already fired him.”

  “You did? When?”

  “Yesterday, when we were at Busch Gardens.”

  “You fired Chuck over the phone?”

  “Yeah. I did it right after we rode the Scorpion.”

  The Scorpion is one of those roller-coaster rides that takes you around in circles, which means a lot of the time you’re basically hanging upside down. I really hope all that blood didn’t rush to Trip’s head and lead him to make a hasty decision. Not that I don’t think Trip firing Chuck isn’t the best thing ever, but I don’t want Trip to regret any part of the last two days.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Positive. I’m only sorry I didn’t do it a few years ago.” Trip notices my hesitation. “Don’t worry. I’ve already got my lawyers negotiating with his. Chuck is getting a hell of a nice payoff to go away quietly. You were spot-on in that article, Emma. I’m tired. I want to go home. I want to be a regular guy again.”

  “Home? To Naples?”

  “Home to Catfish Cove. I’m going to stay with my uncle Frank until I build my own place. And I’m going to start a nonprofit, one that’s going to benefit underprivileged kids. Kimberly is going to help me set it up, do all my PR, that kind of stuff.”

  “You’re signing on with the Yeager Agency?”

  “Nah, she’s going to leave them and come work for me full-time.”

  I’m practically speechless. But not quite. “That’s fantastic! But what about…you know, the Betty Ford thing?” In the two days Trip has been at my place he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol. I admit, I’ve been a little worried about all that.

  “Betty Ford was Chuck’s idea. Personally, I’m more of an AA guy, myself.”

  “Oh, okay, well, great!”

  Trip chuckles. “It’s all right to talk about it, Emma. I have a drinking problem, but I’m not the guy who needs a drink every day. My problem is more situational. I have to learn to deal with stuff that stresses me out in healthier ways.”

  I give Trip a hug. “I know you can do it, Trip. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”

  “Thanks.”

  Trip and I make plans for dinner and I leave for work with Trip sitting on my living room couch watching Good Morning America.

  I can’t believe I did it. I have scored the biggest interview of my life! Ben will be thrilled and T.K. will probably throw me a party. Kimberly is happy and Trip is on his way to getting there. I bet even Uncle Frank is pretty pleased with me. Other than the fact that I feel crummy about the Nick situation and that my moms have been engaged in a thirty-two-year conspiracy against me, I should be ecstatic.

  But strangely, I’m not. The funny worm feeling has come back to my stomach, which makes absolutely no sense at all.

  I toss my tote on top of my desk and automatically head to Ben’s office, but before I knock on his door, I find myself making a detour back to my cubicle. Jackie is at her desk, drinking a cup of coffee.

  “Nice tan,” she says to me.

  I don’t bother lying. “Thanks, I went to Busch Gardens yesterday.”

  “You missed a hell of a staff meeting. Ben finally announced the big move to Orlando. Among other things.”

  “So you knew about the move to Orlando too?”

  “I think he pretty much told everyone in confidence.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Work from my home. It’s a dream come true. What about you?”

  “The same, I guess.”

  She raises a brow. “We’ll see.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” But I can see from the gleam in her eyes that she knows something I don’t, and she’s enjoying it.

  I briefly consider having Jackie read the Trip Monroe article and then just as quickly dismiss the idea. I know exactly what she will say. She’ll tell me to march my jiggly fanny right into Ben’s office and give it to him ASAP. Why I don’t do just that, I’m not sure, but it has something to do with those nasty worms. My article, as written, will definitely put a blush to Trip’s mama’s cheeks. Something I already promised Uncle Frank I wouldn’t do. But Trip has read the article and given me his blessing, which pretty much negates my promise to Uncle Frank, doesn’t it? I have somehow managed to fulfill the spirit of that stupid contract, which gave Trip final editing privileges.

  It should be a journalistic slam dunk.

  I slide my chair around to Richard’s desk and toss the article in front of him. “Favor?” Before he can say anything, I add, “And no, I haven’t read your manuscript yet. I’ve been too busy writing the story of the decade.”

  Richard looks up from his computer screen. “So, despite the fact that you continue to blow me off, you expect me to drop everything and read your article yet again?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “All right.”

  Richard takes my pages and tells me to get lost. I guess he doesn’t want me staring at him and I don’t blame him. I will interpret every nuance, every eyelid flutter or hint of expression, as a potential reaction to the whole piece. I suppose I can be a bit annoying that way. I roll my chair back around to my cubicle to wait it out.

  It seems like forever before he leans over to place his arm on the back of my chair. “It’s the best thing you’ve ever written.”

  My shoulders slump. Richard is right. It is the best thing I’ve ever written. Every word is true but it’s going to expose Trip as this weak-willed man-ho who uses booze and sex to get over the pain of his so-called horrible life that half the world would give their right arm to live.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”

  “It’s just…I don’t know. I hate to think what this might do to Trip’s image.”

  “His image? Baby, it’s a little late to get a conscience here. You went after this story because you wanted to impress Ben and T.K. You wanted to write what no one else could about this guy. And you did. It’s going to sell a lot of magazines, so congratulations.”

  “You make me sound mercenary.”

  “It’s what journalists do. They take a story and wring the truth out of it. Only you could write a piece like that and feel bad because it’s going to hurt someone’s feelings.” He shakes his head. “I’m actually going to miss that about you.”

  “Just because we won’t be working from the office anymore doesn’t mean we won’t be seeing one another. There’s still the Monday-morning staff meetings.” I tell Richard about my carpool idea, making sure to include the part where I still get the donuts.

  “A tempting offer, but no can do. I quit the magazine last week. Ben announced it at the meeting yesterday.”

  “
What?” I think I must have heard wrong. “Why?”

  “I’m going to focus on my writing career.”

  I’m expecting something more, something funny or boastful, but nothing comes. Richard is serious about this.

  “That’s…that’s great!”

  “You think I’m crazy.”

  “Maybe, just a little. Not that I don’t think you couldn’t make it writing genre fiction, you know, with some plot help and all, but what are you going to do about money?”

  “No worries about that, thanks to Gallagher. It just so happens his blackjack method is spot-on. I made almost fifty grand a couple of weeks ago in Vegas. Together with the rest of the money I’ve won, I have enough socked away for about two years, if I’m careful with my money, buy cheap beer, stuff like that.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars? You won fifty thousand dollars playing blackjack?”

  “Can you just shout that out a little louder? I’m sure the IRS would love to hear you.”

  “Richard, please tell me you plan to the pay the taxes on that money.”

  “Rule Number Two: Never pay the IRS today what you can put off until tomorrow.”

  “I really hope that’s a yes.”

  “Don’t worry. I got a guy watching my money. He’s on top of it.”

  “A guy? You mean like an accountant or a business manager? Fifty thousand is a lot of money, but are you sure it’s enough to last you through two years?”

  “I told you, I plan to buy cheap beer.”

  I give Richard a look.

  “Okay, I also have a nest egg.”

  “I thought only grannies had nest eggs.” Pause. “This nest egg of yours…the money is all legit, isn’t it?”

  Richard laughs. “God, I’m really going to miss you.” At the dubious expression on my face, he says, “Relax. No one’s going to jail here. It’s the dough I made from royalties on my e-book sales. You can really rack it up if you get a following.”

  Lisa happens to walk by just then. “Aren’t Richard’s novels wonderful?” she gushes. “I’ve read Steve Danger Goes to Washington three times now and I still haven’t figured out how he’s going to get away from Dr. Hatchett’s evil snakes.”

  I whip around to face Richard. “Steve Danger? Isn’t that going to be your pen name?”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugs. “I’m keeping an open mind on that.”

  “Emma!” says Lisa. “Steve Danger is the name of Richard’s spy character. You know? The one in his novels.”

  “Novels?”

  “Yeah, the novels he published himself on Amazon.” She gazes at Richard with open admiration. “That’s why he goes to Vegas every month. So he can win enough money to write full-time.”

  “That’s why you call in sick every fourth Friday? You go to Vegas to gamble?”

  “Aw, Emma, you were keeping tabs on my sick days. What? Were you worried about me?”

  I snort. “In your dreams.”

  “Every single night.”

  I feel like Richard and I have wandered out of the friends zone and back into fake flirtation mode, only it doesn’t feel fake.

  Lisa must have picked up on it as well because she looks at me and then at Richard. Her eyes widen. “I think I’ll just leave you two alone.”

  “Not necessary!” I call out after her retreating form.

  Jackie comes over to Richard’s cubicle. “Can you two keep it down? I’m trying to get some work done here.”

  “Did you know Richard was going to Vegas every month to gamble? And that he’s got a bunch of novels out about some spy named Steve Danger?” I demand of her.

  “It’s not like he kept it a big secret.”

  “Did Ben know too?”

  Richard shrugs good-naturedly as if to say, Yeah, everyone knew but you.

  “Show me,” I say to them.

  Jackie goes to my computer and punches some keys to get to the Amazon Web site, where Richard’s author page pops up. She then shows me his Facebook page. Richard now has four thousand nine hundred and forty-eight “friends,” most of whom I realize are not friends at all, but fans. I cannot help but smile because this is just so Richard to pull my leg about Steve Danger being the name he plans to publish under. Or maybe he does plan to pub under an alias, since his vampire/werewolf novel is probably very different from these spy books everyone on his Facebook page is raving about.

  I go back to the Amazon link provided on his page and check out the books. He’s got four spy novels at bargain-basement prices. Being the supportive coworker and friend that I am, I purchase all four books and download them to my e-reader.

  “Thanks,” Richard says. “If you like them, make sure to write a review.”

  “Of course,” I say, smiling brightly, but inside I’m less than ecstatic. Not about buying the books. But I don’t like the fact that everyone at the office has known about Richard’s double life all along and that I was totally clueless. How could I have sat less than ten feet away from him for the past six years and never known this most basic thing about him? The whole thing makes me feel self-absorbed.

  “I think it’s great. I wish you the best of luck. Really. I mean that.”

  “Thanks.” Richard stares at me a little too long and I feel myself blush. Blush?

  “So how long has this been going on?”

  “The Steve Danger novels? I put the first one up on Amazon back in January.”

  January is when Ben came to work for Florida !, so I guess that explains why I was out of the loop. I was too busy crushing on Ben to pay attention to what was going on right under my nose, or rather, on the other side of my cubicle.

  “So it looks like it’ll be just you and me, Emma,” says Jackie. “Lisa’s only staying until Ben makes the move to Orlando, but regardless, he won’t need her then. He’ll have Abby.”

  The way Jackie says Abby’s name makes me blink. Surely, she isn’t hinting that there is something between Ben and T.K.’s assistant Abby? “Ben is taking T.K.’s job?”

  “He announced that yesterday too.”

  “Jeez. You miss one Monday-morning staff meeting and the whole place falls apart.”

  “So,” Jackie says to Richard, “we need to plan a going-away party for you. I’d do it at my house but—”

  “How about we make it easy? Beer and wings at that new place in Ybor?” Richard says. “Everyone pays their own tab.”

  “Captain Pete’s?” Jackie says. “Perfect. When’s your last day?”

  “This Friday.” Richard turns to me. “You’ll be there?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your going-away party.”

  Richard winks at me and although his wink does not constitute a reply, I somehow feel like it does. Surely there must be something I can pull out of my hat to equalize the playing field again.

  But there is nothing.

  Richard, three.

  Emma, zero.

  I gird my loins and march into Ben’s office.

  He looks up from his computer screen. “Where’s the article?”

  I haven’t seen him since our kiss by the dock. I would think we’d both be a little embarrassed. It appears he’s not, so I shouldn’t be either.

  “Well, hello to you too. Didn’t you hear? I was sick yesterday.”

  “You look pretty tan for someone who was sick yesterday.”

  “Really? You think I got a tan?”

  Ben gives me a hard stare.

  “I don’t get it. Richard calls in sick every fourth Friday and you never give him a hard time.” Ben goes to say something but I head him off at the pass. “Okay, I wasn’t sick. I was at Busch Gardens with Trip. So technically, I was working.”

  “Why didn’t you say so? We could have sent a photographer.”

  “It was a spontaneous kind of a friends’ thing.”

  “Friends? Let me get this straight. You’re now friends with the guy who practically accosted you?”

  “It’s not like that. Trip is very sorry for what h
appened that night at the Don Cesar.”

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it,” Ben mutters. “I hope that’s going to be in the article.”

  It is all in the article, but I’ve just made up my mind. I don’t want Ben to read it. Not yet anyway. “Remember that little contract I had to sign? It expressly forbids me mentioning the events at the Don Cesar.”

  “Damn contract.” He indicates with the wave of a hand that I sit down. “I need that piece by next Monday. No extensions.”

  “Sure,” I say, “no problem.” I sit on the edge of his couch and wait.

  “You’ve probably already heard I’m taking T.K.’s job.”

  “Sounds like I missed a big meeting.”

  “And you heard that Richard has quit?”

  I nod.

  “Lisa has also turned in her resignation, but I was expecting that one.”

  “It looks like the staff of Florida! is dwindling down to zip.”

  Ben sharpens his gaze. “I hope you’re not jumping ship as well.”

  “What? Me? I never even thought about it.”

  “Good, because T.K. and I want you to take over as editor.”

  “Honest?”

  “No, I’m kidding. Of course, honest.” Ben gives me a lazy smile. “Haven’t you figured out I’ve been grooming you for this for a while now?”

  “Grooming me?”

  “Sure, all those late nights, helping me with articles, the trip to Orlando. No one knows this magazine better than you. You’re perfect for the job.”

  “I kind of thought all those late nights had something to do with the fact that you’re crazy about me.” I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I can’t help myself.

  He clears his throat. “I admit it’ll be hard, separating the private from the professional, but I think we can manage.”