“So what’s up?”
“I have no clue. You tell me.” I’m surprised I am this brave without wine. Tac sits down at the chair across from me. Herman rubs up against his leg and Tac kind of pushes him away. “Go on, kitty, I don’t need black hair on my pants.”
Tac is wearing a suit. I think about the black hairs and sugar cookie lotion and try not to smile.
“Listen, I get busy. I have to focus, that’s all.”
“That’s fine. I imagine you have several women you work on at one time.”
I bite my own tongue after I hear what it says.
Tac looks surprised.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why are you acting jealous? Was it that client in the conference room?”
Now he’s making me feel like I’m petty and I want to punch him.
“No, I just think you like to play the field. Nothing wrong with that, but I’m not interested in playing.”
Now Tac actually looks wounded, like maybe somebody stole his milk money.
“Melissa, I’m the first to admit that I’m not very good at relationships...at least romantic ones, but you can trust that I am not a player.”
“I didn’t say that...exactly. I just think we’re at different places in our lives and that being friends is probably our best bet.”
“I think I like you and am going to keep liking you.”
Really?
“I’m way too neurotic to worry about how many other women you’re hitting on. Seriously, save yourself.” I tell him this with my words, but my heart chakra is doing little cartwheels at what he said.
“I’m not flirting with other girls. What can I do to prove it?”
“Don’t try to have sex with me today.”
I scan his face for some kind of sign, but this guy is good. Like a rock.
“Fine,” he says.
“Fine,” I say.
“Do you want to get together Friday night, or what?” He’s standing up now. It seems to me that the fact I said I wouldn’t sleep with him was reason enough to leave. I am good at catching subtle clues like that.
I tell him yes, we can go out on Friday night. I walk him to the door. He reaches over and kisses me and I let him. My knees get a little weak and I squeeze my core. The yoga teachers are always telling us that a strong core is the foundation of all our power. I tell him bye and shut the door. He leaves me and Herman and my core sitting there wondering what this means.
I’m still not feeling the wine-love after drinking all the Merlot last night, so I do the responsible thing and have vodka. I’m still full from the sandwich, so I make it a light dinner by adding a little tonic and a twist of lime. I like lime. Herman and I head to my office and both agree that we’ll call it an early night. After all, skipping the office and yoga today has me feeling the tiniest bit guilty. Plus, I have to get a degree in marriage counseling so I can deal with Tina and Todd tomorrow.
In my home office, I see I’ve gotten a comment on my chakra post, plus an email from Yoga Barbie telling me what a good job I did on the post itself. I am very glad Ron left me for her because really, our friendship is something I treasure. I secretly wonder how Ron is, but not enough to ask her. As far as I know, they didn’t work out and he’s still cleaning pools, but I’m not one to pry. The next message is from Tac.
Wait a minute.
It’s from Tac to me as Nala. This is getting way too confusing. Tac, who likes me and works with me and came over here and let me see him in his boxers, that Tac, has my cell phone and office email. He’s never even emailed me, only sent text messages. But he has my personal spiritual guru email, and knows it belongs to Nala. And he just emailed me/her? I’m dying to open his message all the while wondering exactly how it is I get myself into these most unusual situations. His email causes me to gag on my lime wedge.
“Dear Nala,
We haven’t chatted in a bit, but I was hoping we could get together for coffee? Your chakra post really spoke to my heart and I’d love to connect with you. Are you in a position that you’d now be willing to meet me in person? Warmly, Tac.”
I read this twice and finish my drink. Is this a joke? The kind me, the one with a nice aura and good downward dog is telling me that Tac must somehow know that I am Nala and that this is just his idea of a joke. You know, to kind of make me pay for not letting him do what I’m fairly sure he came over here to do today. But then the other, more nasty and insecure me is thinking what a rotten, stinking sign-stealing liar he is. I mean, let’s face facts: Tac really doesn’t have any way of knowing I am Nala. But the alternative is that he sat here at my kitchen table, shooing away my cat and lying to my face. I cannot believe he could actually lie quite that well. If he just told me he liked me the way he did and went straight home and tried to hit on his favorite spiritual guru blogger without knowing it was me, then this guy should be in politics. Lying that well takes talent.
I think for a few minutes. Okay, this is Wednesday and we’re supposed to get together Friday. I compose myself, and then my response.
“Dear Tac,
It has been a couple of weeks since I heard from you. I thought maybe you’d met someone special :-). I’d love to get together. How about this Friday evening?
Namaste, Nala.”
I hit send and tell Herman I am going to yoga in the morning. I can’t bring myself to leave my desk in case he emails me right back. However, that concern is quickly set aside when I see an email that tells me I can have my chakras cleaned for only $4.99 per month! Haven’t I been wanting to have them cleaned? I am sure that doing this on an ongoing basis will really be helpful. I mean, it’s like car maintenance, right? We’ve got to keep those chakras spinning properly or who knows what could happen. I reason that between this and my daily talks with Tony, as well as yoga and all the other great things I do, I’m bound to find a new car in my garage in no time. Just as I’m entering my credit card number for my chakra cleaning special, I see an email come back from Tac.
“Nala, Friday would be excellent! And no, I haven’t met anyone, I’ve just been working a lot of long hours. Where should we meet?”
I feel pretty sure I want to vomit right now. For some reason, knowing that he’s trying to hit on someone right after he told me that he isn’t interested in other women has me reeling. What kind of a big fat slimy liar does that? I write him back and tell him the coffee shop on the corner of Manzanita and Fair Oaks at 5:00 p.m. He confirms. I turn off my computer and think about what comes next. Do I just let him go like a fool to meet someone who isn’t going to show up? Or do I show up and surprise him? Oh wait, I can’t go because I’ll be sitting at home getting stood up by the bastard. I am relatively sure this is how someone feels when they say they are so mad they are “seeing red.”
I get up early and hit the yoga studio. This Tac thing is just too much stress. Dawn— the lovely yoga instructor who always compliments me on both my good downward dog and on my nice breathing—is teaching today. She tells us we’re going to do some work on waking up our spine. I for one do not want to have a sleepy spine so I am happy to learn new poses. Today she tells us if we are feeling like our bridge pose is not quite enough of a challenge, we should try the wheel. The wheel, as it turns out, is a back bend. However, it is not the kind of back bend where you stand up and just toss your head and arms and whole-self back hoping you don’t fall while your heart chakra is being opened. In the wheel pose, you are kind of like an upside down tabletop. It looks tricky, but Dawn tells us that she will help guide us through it. I like her a lot and think I would look good as an upside down tabletop, so I raise my hand for help. Dawn is pleased, I can tell. I do everything she tells me to, but then she says, “Now pop up.” There is no part of me that pops. I think I need a crane, as I am not at all sure what she means. But then she explains how my hands are facing the wrong way, and well, that just won’t work. We re-adjust my hands and with one smooth move, I
am a tabletop! You could throw some plates on my belly and stay for dinner. After about seven seconds though, my tabletop tummy has gotten droopy and I have to come out of the pose, but Dawn tells me I did great. I am beaming from ear to ear. My spine won’t sleep for weeks, but my yoga teacher is proud. What else is there?
At the office, I assume a cocky demeanor. I have no idea what I have to be cocky about, but just the fact that I am pretty confident Tac has been caught in the act gives me some kind of pleasure. However, it does not negate the fact that I’m pretty mad at myself for being dumb enough to believe him. On the other hand, my wimpy self hopes that A) he really knows I’m Nala and we’ll have a good laugh over this for years to come; or B) he’s just humoring Nala and wouldn’t really stand me up on our already planned date.
Becky just doesn’t seem like herself again. I stand at her desk, hoping she will confide in me.
“Are you okay?” I ask, mostly as a good friend and only partly as a nosy one.
“Yes. I will be.” She says this without looking at me. Now I am insane with needing to know.
“You know you can always talk to me, right?”
Becky turns to look at me, then her eyes dart toward Broker Bert’s office. He is not sitting at his desk, but she still shakes her head.
“Do you want to grab lunch?” she asks. As if she has to ask twice.
Becky is noticeably preoccupied. Maybe even shook up. I tell her I will drive because after all, I’m the older one. I toss my yoga mat in the backseat and unlock her door. I am as curious as can be about what’s going on with her, but mainly I think it will distract me from my Tac dilemma. And for that, there is no one I can talk to besides maybe Crystal Visions, but she gets pretty pricey.
As soon as I start the car, I hear a text notification. It’s from Odd Todd, and in case he hadn’t earned his nickname yet, he just did. He actually sent a text that said: “You’re a very attractive agent.”
“Ew!” I say loudly, right before throwing my phone in my purse.
“What is it?” Becky asks, clearly concerned.
“My seller...well, the husband-half of my seller.”
I explain to Becky that Tina and Todd are splitting up and have already gotten me in the middle of their profit discussion, and how Tina is going to buy a house from me. Becky seems to agree that I need to nip Todd in the bud, so to speak. After all, the last thing I want is for Tina to think I’m leading her husband on. Fiduciary responsibility does not mean I have to let clients hit on me, but then again I don’t want to make him mad and fire me, especially now that we have a good offer in. I decide I will deal with this later. Right now, I need to be Becky’s best friend and let her tell me all her troubles.
“So what’s going on?” I ask her, unfolding the paper napkin and wondering why I’m getting ready to eat Tacos.
“Tell me why you think something’s going on,” she says. I’m wondering if this is some kind of a test, but either way I feel perfectly qualified. I mean, I’m pretty good at reading people.
“Well, the other day you looked flustered, then you were behind closed doors with Broker Bert...”
Becky looks exasperated and throws her hands up to her face. This is really going to be good. Then I feel guilty for thinking that.
“What is it?” I ask, hardly able to contain myself.
“I think I have to quit my job.” She says this flatly, and then takes a bite of her burrito.
“Why?” I happen to know that Becky loves her job, even though there was that one time she wanted to be a dental hygienist and that other time a psychic told her she should go to beauty school. Besides, I don’t think she can afford to quit.
“Bert says he’s in love with me.” She says this with a full mouth, and I momentarily wonder if being Hispanic and all, whether or not she finds Taco Bell burritos to be even remotely authentic.
“You mean, IN love?” I realize the gravity of the situation.
“Yes. Or at least he thinks so.” She squirts Fire Sauce inside her second burrito and now I know she’s upset. Becky juices and does yoga. She does not eat like this and thinks that I don’t either, but here we are, both doing pretty well at adjusting.
“Is that what he was telling you in his office the other day?”
“Actually, he was asking me to not quit.”
“You already told him you were quitting?”
“What else can I do?”
“I don’t know. Did you tell Brian?”
“Brian would not understand.”
“Why not? You can’t help it if someone likes you.”
“I kissed him.”
OMG!
“You kissed Broker Bert?” I ask her, certain she must have misunderstood my question.
“Yes, I guess…I don’t know…I was just curious.”
“Curious about what?!” I ask, honestly perplexed. I mean sure, I’m a little older than Tac, but this kind of age difference? This is positively colossal!
“I guess I got caught up in the moment. Bert is just so kind and caring. Brian still hasn’t proposed. I guess I just made a mistake. We can’t tell Brian or anyone though. Promise?”
This makes good sense to me. I mean, how could Brian ever understand? It seems perfectly normal that a man would prefer his girlfriend not work for a guy who’s in love with her. Especially, when said boss is almost three times her age. I try to delete the image of old tongue in Becky’s mouth.
“Where did he kiss you? I mean, location-wise.”
“In his office…we worked late one night…had some wine.” Don’t blame the wine, I wanted to tell her, but I knew exactly what she meant.
“Well, I don’t think you should quit.”
“Bert doesn’t either. He told me just being around me will be enough, but it’s still very uncomfortable working around someone you kissed, you know?”
I told her I did.
Back at the office, Tac is reading his computer screen and there are a few other older agents milling around like they tend to do. He barely notices me as I stride by, acting all full of myself since I know about Becky’s secret and he doesn’t. She made me swear to secrecy, so even if he does come over Friday, I absolutely cannot breathe a word that Becky got broker-curious and kissed a senior citizen.
“Hey, Melissa,” Tac says without taking his eyes off his computer.
I think I kind of grunt and get busy at my desk. I have to check on my Catholic clients’ short sale, and then get this new offer to Tina and Todd for signatures. Oh yeah, Odd Todd. I decide to pretend I didn’t see his text. I email Tina and attach the offer, asking her if she and Todd can both sign it and I will open escrow. Hopefully Odd Todd will get the hint and not hit on me again until the close of escrow when I can tell him off. I decide I will let my escrow officer deal with the profit thing. Her name is Carol and she has the best taste in clothes.
It’s interesting to me how many people don’t really understand what escrow is, but it’s kind of like this: Carol makes sure the buyers give her the money which usually comes from the bank loan they get, and then she makes sure the title to Tina and Todd’s house is clean, then she kind of does a swap. It’s like a heavily monitored trade if you ask me. However, it gets really complicated and there are at least three reams of papers that need to be signed by both buyers and sellers before the trade can even become official. And still, after all the parties sign, the new deed has to be recorded at the Courthouse and the funds from the buyers’ bank that already came have to be wired into the seller’s account. Right after that, Carol’s office sends my office the commission, and Broker Bert (the perv) has Becky make a check out to me for my share. That’s pretty much how escrow works.
I call Carol because having a new escrow is just way too exciting for email. Plus, if I tell her on the phone, Tac will hear, and that one’s pretty self-explanatory.
“Got a new one for you,” I declare, like it’s something I say often. It isn’t.
“Oh, that’s great!” Carol
squeals. She knows her role well.
“And it’s a pretty good one too, sending the contract soon.” I decide not to say how much, although I really want to because it will be enough for me to live on for a couple months. I shoot a look over at Tac, who is now on the phone and not even trying to eavesdrop.
I’m not at all sure what Tac’s plans will be when it comes to Friday night. Part of me thinks he will stand Nala up. The other part of me thinks he’ll stand me up. Then the final, really crazy part of me thinks he’ll try and do double-duty. Spend some time with me and then bail out and meet up with her. Well, I know what time he’s supposed to meet her, so maybe I’ll tell him the same time. I really want to bust him, but then, I also really want to be wrong. This is such a conundrum. I wonder, ever so briefly, if Crystal Visions would be able to tell me if he’s a dirty rotten liar or simply giving me a run for my money. I think he knows I’m Nala and is just messing with me. How can I really catch him though? Even if I showed up at the coffee place and outted him, he could say he knew all along. But then, if he really doesn’t know I’m Nala, he might tell people once he finds out that I am, you know, as a way to blackmail me for putting a pirate eye-patch on his dumb bus-stop ad. Let’s face it, poor Becky has enough on her mind right now to be worrying about me and my double identity. This gives new meaning to the term dual agency.
As soon as I get home and change clothes, I check to see if there is anything at all edible in my somewhat sparse refrigerator (there isn’t) or cabinet (nope). And what I mean by that is, I’m out of wine. I do not want to put my clothes back on and go to the store, and I do not feel like drinking vodka. Hard alcohol is well, hard, and doesn’t seem appropriate for a weeknight. I take my microwave popcorn and vodka tonic into my office and send Tac a text about Friday night.
I wake up to Herman standing on my chest and sniffing my nose. I think he is checking for signs of life. It seems my famous wheel pose back bend has caught up with me and I am sure my spine has fallen back asleep in nine places. From my throat chakra to my tailbone, I think I need back-replacement surgery. Maybe it was too soon for the wheel pose? I make a mental note to call an orthopedic surgeon to see how much it will cost to have the whole thing replaced.
More Secrets of a Spiritual Guru: Love & More Lies Page 6
