by L. Nicole
“Uh… you don’t know me.”
“True, but you just went toe to toe with Casper Hartley. Let’s just say I’m intrigued.”
I adjust my glasses and I’m doing my best not to panic. I can’t say this has ever happened to me before. I don’t really know what to do with it.
“Mr.…What’s your name?”
“Brad Jameson,” he says reaching out his hand. I shake it, this whole thing feeling surreal. “But, call me Brad. Mr. Jameson makes me feel old coming from such a young, sweet thing as you.”
I take a step away from him, his comment coming off kind of creepy instead of sweet. He doesn’t give off weird vibes, but there’s a good chance he could be crazy.
“Brad, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but I don’t… Well, I’m not really looking to go on a date with anyone right now.”
“That’s why you should,” he insists, and I find myself laughing, because he’s persistent if nothing else and I can’t say as a guy has ever been persistent when asking me out—or invested for that matter.
“Okay, you’re funny, but well, don’t take this the wrong way, but… I’m not really attracted to you.”
“Ouch,” he replies, his hand going to his heart. “That one hurt. Rejection, party of one.”
“Oh please, I seriously doubt you’re attracted to me either.”
“I could be. You’re sweet, make a hell of a muffin and you’re pretty.”
“Now I know you’re full of it.”
“Why is that?” he questions, and he truly seems confused.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been called pretty.”
“Now you’re just being silly.”
“I’m serious. I have many great attributes, I’m sure, but I’m not pretty and I’m okay with that.”
“You’re being serious, aren’t you?”
I shrug my answer, feeling uncomfortable.
“In that case, you have to go out to dinner with me.”
“Why? I told you—”
“I know. I’m ignoring you. Also, I can tell that you like my boss and best friend, Casper.”
I instantly shut down, closing myself off to him.
“I think you should go now.”
“Listen Casper is an asshole, but he has reasons for the way he is. They’re reasons I doubt he even recognizes, but they’re there. You’ve also caught his eye—”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“I’m serious. I can tell by the way he’s been watching you.”
“He’s probably sizing me up to see how big of a body bag he’ll need to throw me in when he takes out a hit on my life.”
Brad laughs, it’s a genuine laugh and I sigh, the fight going out of me.
“Do body bags come in different sizes?”
“No idea, but I figured.”
“Maybe, but if someone orders a hit on you, I doubt they’d order a body bag.”
“They could,” I try to justify, thinking this is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.
“It never happens on those true crime shows on television,” he points out.
“Fair point. If you think—and I’m totally not—but, if you think I’m in love with Casper Hartley, why are you asking me out?”
“I think I said like, but your response is very telling,” he jokes, watching me shrewdly.
“My question still stands,” I mutter.
“Because, I can help you get Casper’s attention.”
“I think I got his attention today.” I shrug. “I really don’t think I want it anymore.”
“I mean, the right kind of attention.”
“I’m not sure with Casper Hartley there is a right kind of attention.”
I’m not really joking. Today was scary. Casper Hartley might be hot, sexy as sin, and a million other great things. He’s also a big, fat, jerk.
“Casper is a really good guy, I swear. If a girl was in love—”
“I’m not,” I snap, avoiding his eyes.
“In deep like with someone, shouldn’t they try to see if that guy is worth it, before just giving up?”
“So, you want me to go out with you to get your friend’s attention?”
“Pretty much.”
“It sounds like a lot of effort for nothing. Besides, look at me? Do I really look like your friend’s type?” I ask him, adjusting my glasses and suddenly very tired.
“Definitely,” he says and now I’m starting to wonder if Brad is insane. “So, what do you say? Are you going to go out with me?” He holds out his hand to me, as if shaking would somehow seal the deal. I shake his hand…
And wonder if I’m making a deal with the devil.
9
Jane
“I can’t believe you have a date tonight and didn’t tell me sooner!” Keila bitches.
“Ow! Be careful,” I snap, my hand going back to where I’m sure she just made a bald spot while trying to tease my hair. “And, I didn’t know I had a date until quitting time this evening. I’m not even sure it could be classified as a date. There’s every chance in the world this guy is completely nuts,” I tell her.
“Or a genius. I think he’s right on the money. Making a man jealous is key. He’ll coming rushing in to claim you before he loses you forever. It happens all the time in the romance movies on television.”
“Well yeah, but this is real life—not some make believe television show.”
“All stories come with a grain of truth,” she says with a shrug, completely discounting my argument.
“You’d like Brad, you both resort to the same tactics,” I mumble, pulling my knee up on the chair to rest my chin on, while Keila finishes my hair.
I look at the clock on the wall and my stomach flutters nervously. It’s almost seven thirty. Brad will be here soon, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. After I agreed to the date, I gave him my name and address and called Keila in a panic. She rushed over and demanded she help me get ready. The past hour has been an exercise in torture, as Keila not only hyped up my hair to the point I’m wondering if the eighties are going to call me and want it back, but insisted I wear a ton of makeup. I drew the line there, but somehow, I ended up still wearing foundation, a red lipstick and mascara. She had a lot more she wanted to put on me, but I reminded her this was a casual date. She wasn’t happy, but I somehow avoided eye shadow and some kind of silver thing that looked like a device used for torture in war, that she called an eyelash curler.
Who comes up with these things?
“I don’t know why I’m doing this, Keila,” I murmur into my knee, starting to panic.
“Jane, you like Casper, and I mean you really like him.”
“Yeah, well, after today I’m not sure how I feel about anything.”
“Okay, so he was an ass,” she says, and I raise my gaze to look at her through the mirror.
“He was an ass on an epic scale,” I correct her.
“Maybe you should cut the guy some slack, Jane. I mean, you did almost burn his balls off. A man can get touchy about these things.”
“He called me dumb,” I mumble, at least I think he did. Honestly, I’m not even sure anymore. I just know everything he did say hurt.
“Think of it like a lover’s tiff.”
“You really are nuts,” I mumble.
“Maybe so, but you have to admit you do look beautiful—even if you wouldn’t wear your contacts or the dress that I brought for you.”
“Brad said casual and that means jeans, and I hate my contacts. My glasses are comfortable,” I remind her, looking down at my jeans. When I look back in the mirror, I see the green t-shirt I’m wearing and worry, though. I mean, it’s a nice t-shirt, but it’s definitely casual. Truth is, I don’t have a lot of dressy clothes. I don’t like them for the most part and I never go anywhere they are needed.
“It may surprise you, Jane, but women wear dresses casually too.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t.”
“You’ll pass tonight, but you
have to tell me everything tomorrow.”
“There won’t be anything to tell. I don’t even know why I’m going.”
Keila puts her hands on my shoulders and stares at me through the mirror. “Because you’re curious,” she says and I take a big, long, drawn out sigh, that makes my lungs burn a little.
“I guess I am.”
The doorbell rings and we both turn to look at it.
“It would seem your date has shown up early,” Keila says and I close my eyes, wishing I’d never agreed to any of this.
“Do you think if I don’t answer the door, he will give up and go away?” I sound so hopeful at the idea—well, a combination of hopeful and desperate.
“I think if you don’t get up off your butt and answer the door, I will.”
I growl at her and it just makes her laugh. I walk to the door thinking I really don’t need to go to jail for choking my best friend.
10
Casper
“How did the meeting go?” Brad asks.
My hand tightens on the phone. “It went good. They said they’ll go over the proposal I prepared and get back to me in a couple of days.”
“That’s good then, right?”
“I would have rather they gave me an answer while I was there,” I growl, frustrated.
“Breathe, Casp. You know that there’s not another company around with our reputation that will offer them anything better. That contract is in the bag. They’re just grandstanding.
“Maybe,” I mumble, switching my phone over to speaker and tossing it on the bed, while I finish toweling off. “I’m going to go let off some steam at Corey’s Bar. You want to join me for a drink?”
“You’re going to Corey’s on a Tuesday night?” he asks, sounding shocked. I roll my eyes.
“Yes. I do go to Corey’s you know,” I reply drolly.
“You do, on a Saturday and sometimes, if the week has been really stressful, you go on a Friday. You never go there through the week in general, though,” Brad reminds me and he’s right, but he makes me sound so predictable, it annoys me. Then again, since my run-in with the girl at the bakery, everything is annoying me.
“Yes, well, today has been stressful as hell. So, I’m going for a drink. I asked if you wanted to join me, not for you to give me the third degree on why I’m going there.”
Brad laughs at me, the asshole. Sometimes I wonder why we are friends, then I remember he does his best to keep me mellowed out. If not for him, I’d probably be worse than I am.
And I can admit I’m an asshole.
I definitely was to the girl at the bakery. Nothing can be done about it now though. It is what it is.
I’ve always hated that damn saying.
“Fair enough, but I can’t go to Corey’s with you, because I’m already going there,” he admits.
“Good, I’ll meet you there—”
“I’m going there with a date, Casp.”
“A date? You didn’t have anything planned tonight.” I frown.
“It happened after you left.”
“You asked the bakery girl out?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Her name is Jane, and yes, I did.”
Jane. A plain name for a plain girl. Except today when we were arguing she didn’t look plain. She sure as hell didn’t smell plain. Today she seemed extraordinary. I rub the back of my head, irritated at the thought of Brad taking Jane out.
“Why would you do that?” I ask him, my annoyance building.
“Because I like her,” he replies.
“It’s your funeral. I’m just glad it’s not me. I don’t want to be anywhere near that woman ever again,” I declare, ignoring the image of Jane that flashes through my mind. Her eyes spitting fire at me, with those cute, clunky glasses on her face.
“In that case, you should stay away from Corey’s because that’s where I’m taking her.”
“Damn it, Brad—”
“Love to talk to you, Casp, but I’ve just got to Jane’s apartment and she’s better company than you,” he says, clicking the phone off.
“Asshole.” I reach down to turn my phone off. I sit down on the edge of my bed, beside my phone.
I can’t believe he asked the girl out. I know I kind of told him to, but I didn’t actually think the bastard would do it. I don’t like the idea of him asking her out. I’m not about to ask myself why, the point is, I don’t like it.
The question is…
What am I going to do about it?
11
Jane
“Can I get you a beer?” Brad asks, and I look around the bar frowning.
“I… could I have a Shirley Temple?” Brad stands there and looks at me like he’s dumbfounded. My hand goes up to my glasses, the pads of my fingers worrying on the frame. “I… I’m not much of a drinker,” I explain. He smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling with humor.
“Shirley Temple. I’ll see what I can do,” he says, and I nod.
I watch him walk away and then slowly my gaze moves across the room. I’ve never been to Corey’s before and the last time I was in a bar was for my twenty-first birthday, back in Florida. It was nothing like this place. This is what I would imagine a biker bar was—although since I’ve never been in one of those, I’m probably wrong. The walls, floors and ceiling are all made from old lumber, reminiscent of barnwood. It’s dark with lights over the tables and overhead too, but none of them are really bright unless you count the ones over the bar. There are a few people at the bar, where Brad went to place our order. There are also a few people sitting at the tables, but it’s not crowded. I suppose not many people go out on a weekday. There’s a country music song playing in the background and a dance floor, but no one dancing.
I look down at the tabletop and run my finger along the rough grain of the wood. I really wish I hadn’t come tonight. I’m not sure why I did, to be honest.
Except maybe I wanted to see what Brad had up his sleeve.
Maybe I wanted to see if he could really help me get Casper’s attention…
I hear someone clearing their throat and I look up, expecting to see Brad, holding out our drinks. My heart drops to my feet when I see Casper standing there. My body immediately stiffens. I’m not ready to go another round with him. I don’t think I could handle it. He just keeps staring at me—not saying a word. When this goes on a couple of minutes, I finally get up my nerve to speak.
“Can I help you?”
“I thought that was you but couldn’t be sure. You look different.”
My hand goes up to touch my hair, self-consciously. I guess I do look different, since I barely recognized myself with the changes that Keila made to my hair and my face. Still, I could see me behind the changes, If I had let her do everything she wanted, I’m not sure who I would have looked like.
“Did you want something?”
He looks around the room, then his gaze comes back to me.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you today,” he says, surprising me.
“I’m not sure what you said to me can be clarified as snapped,” I reply, proud of myself for not giving in.
“I can be an asshole when I’m mad,” he says, sounding about as uncomfortable as I feel. I don’t know what to say to that, because he’s not wrong. He was an asshole…and more. “And for the record,” he says, once it’s clear I’m not going to respond. “I don’t think you’re dumb. I mean you own a business and from what I can see it’s a success. That doesn’t happen easily.”
“I, uh…thanks,” I tell him. “I’m sorry things escalated the way they did.” I sound lame, but I don’t really know what else to say.
“Maybe we could start over.”
“Start over?”
“Yeah, forget what happened at the bakery today.”
“We could try,” I agree, not sure it’s possible, but thinking having an enemy like Casper Hartley isn’t what I want either.
“Good,” he says, but he just keeps sta
ring at me. It’s starting to get unnerving.
“Uh, okay, then. I’m just waiting on—”
“Dance with me,” he interrupts.
“What?” I ask, not quite believing I heard him right. I couldn’t have.
Could I?
“Dance with me, Jane.”
He reaches out his hand and I just stare at it, because I’m speechless. Why does Casper want to dance with me and when did he learn my name?
“I’m here with someone, I don’t think it would be very nice to—”
“But he’s not here, and I am. Dance with me.”
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.
Even knowing that, I slowly reach out my hand and put it in his.
12
Casper
I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I just know when I walked in and saw Brad standing at the bar on his cellphone, I wanted to strangle him. Then, I looked around the bar and saw Jane, looking beautiful but completely out of place, I walked to her without thinking. I didn’t have a choice. I don’t know what this girl is doing to me, but I don’t like it. I’m feeling completely out of control.
I lead her to the dance floor and take her into my arms. She’s stiff and awkward in my arms, her body rigid, her hands in fists, knuckles pressing against my upper arms as I begin swaying with her on the floor. She’s holding herself distant from me, staring down at her feet. Frustration wells inside of me. I pull her in close, body against body, taking her weight as she stumbles, her hands collapsing against my chest as she reaches out to stop her fall, and I wrap her tight in my hold, not letting her move. She looks up at me, her blue eyes practically glowing in the muted light of the dancefloor.
“Casper…”
I didn’t expect it. The sound of my name on her lips, but I like it. I like it probably more than I should.
