by Kally Ash
Seriously.
“Is that an ‘i’ or an ‘l’?” she muttered to herself, squinting harder. Dropping the sheet of legal paper, she sat back in her chair and swiveled the thing around until she was facing the sheets of glass forming the corner of her office. Darkness pressed against the transparent shield, but ambient light from the other high-rises that were nestled alongside her building were spilling in all over the place.
She wondered what everyone else was doing with their Monday nights. Were they settling down to watch Netflix with their boy/girlfriend, wife/husband, dog/cat, or were they heading out to a second job so that their kid could take those extra dance lessons?
Her? She was where she always was: at work. Because time was money, and for a lawyer, your time was everything. That was the only reason she was still sitting in a skirt suit, although she had jettisoned the jacket about two hours ago.
When she was a kid, she could remember her father not being home at all when she and her brother had gone to bed. She never understood why he would be working at nine, sometimes ten o’clock on weekends, but she got it now. After hours in the office meant no interruptions, no emails, no meetings, no phone calls. No, Hey, have you got a minute to chat? from colleagues or even the dreaded summer interns who could fuck up the photocopier faster than a bagful of M&M’s thrown into a fat camp.
And that was why she was the only one left on the twelfth floor on a Monday night. Down the hall somewhere, the whirr of a vacuum cleaner being put to work was the only other sound she could hear.
The sound of her phone ringing jolted her from her thoughts, though, and she scrambled to pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Still at work?” Vee asked. In the background, she could hear the sound of canned laughter and knew she was at home with Beau watching another episode of The Big Bang, all domesticated and shit.
“You know it,” Natasha replied, pushing her chair back so she could stretch her legs up onto the desk. “What are you doing?”
“Just watching TV. Beau’s gone out to meet a friend for a drink.”
“And you weren’t invited?”
Vee laughed. “I didn’t want to go out again. The engagement party took it out of me... Speaking of the engagement party, did you have a good time?”
Natasha’s eyes narrowed at Vee’s tone. “What are you getting at?”
“I saw you talking to Ethan.”
Ohhhhhh. “He is a fine-looking man.”
“True,” her best friend said. “Was he interested?”
Natasha snorted, which was not very ladylike at all. “All men are interested in me, Vee. Only a few get the privilege of taking me to bed.”
“Well, that’s debatable,” she shot back. “I was there during the slut phase, remember? You let anything with a dick and enough zeros in his bank account screw you.”
Ah, yes, Natasha remembered it fondly. Call it reckless abandon or a cry for help, but back in college, she had been all about dick. There was a good year or two where she refused to get tied down in a relationship and she was screwing at least four different guys a week. She’d mellowed in her age though, cutting back to a guy every three to four weeks. She didn’t have time for anything more than that. The relationship status had never changed though. She was the pin-up girl for It’s complicated, bitch.
“You say the sweetest things,” she quipped. Leaning forward, she grabbed her Mont Blanc from the desktop and tapped the weighted end on her thigh. “Alas, Ethan didn’t get into my pants.”
“Uh-oh.”
“We were just about to head back to his office when some jackass surfy-looking dude spilled his drink on me.”
She left out the part about the subsequent fucking in Ethan’s office with said surfy dude. She squeezed her thighs together as she thought about it. It had been the hottest session she’d had in a long time and most of that was due to the animosity between them. He’d done her wrong and he owed her, and Natasha always collected.
Lust. That’s all it had been.
Pure, unadulterated lust, and it still gave Natasha hot flushes to think about it.
“Maybe the guy just wanted to talk to you?” Evangeline suggested.
“Or maybe he wanted to ruin a vintage YSL dress.” She waved her hand through the air, batting the words away. “Anyway, I pretty much left after that. Sorry I didn’t say a proper goodbye, but I was wet and smelled of hops. It wasn’t like I was going to get laid looking and smelling like I did.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure you smelling like beer would have made any guy fall at your feet.”
Natasha laughed. “I would’ve been their personal wet dream. Anyway, enough about me, how was the rest of the party?” she said, moving the conversation off her and any potential admissions of guilt.
“Fantastic. We’ve got lots of things in motion now, ready for the big day.”
Natasha sat up. “Have you set a date?”
“We have a block of tentative dates that we want, but it all depends on the venues and whether they’re available at that time too.”
“Vee, that’s fantastic. Really.”
“Actually, that’s the reason I called. I have a question for you.”
“Yes?”
Vee cleared her throat. “Natasha Fraser,” she began seriously. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
Well, there was no hiding the grin on her face and she usually wasn’t a smiler. “Seriously? Vee! Of course, I will.”
“Good,” her friend replied. “Because I couldn’t imagine doing all this without you.”
Natasha swiped at the tear that had fallen without her notice. “I got you, babe.”
“I know you do.” Vee laughed. “So listen, are you free for dinner tomorrow night? We have so much to talk about.”
Putting the call on speaker, she put her phone down on the desk and woke up her computer. Into the calendar. Tuesday night was free, but she blocked it out from five to midnight just in case her boss asked her to stay late for something. “I am all yours, Vee,” she said.
“Perfect. Beau got us reservations at Providence. Do you know where that is?”
“On Melrose, right? Near Pinky’s Automotive?”
“That’s the one. Our reservation is for seven.”
“I'll see you then.”
“Don’t work too hard, Natasha.”
She smiled at her friend’s words. “Don’t I always?” she shot back. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
Natasha hung up and shifted the block in her calendar to reflect the dinner plans. Then she shifted it back. She could leave here at five tomorrow. She may even go and get her nails done. It had been a while since she’d done anything for herself.
Eight
John walked into the Hilton’s Lobby Lounge a few minutes before eight. It had taken him almost three and a half hours to get into LA, leaving him barely enough time to check in, change, and get back downstairs to meet Beau. Glancing around, he scanned the bar for his best friend. When it was clear the guy wasn’t there yet, he parked it at the bar, taking advantage of the mirrored surface behind the bottles to keep an eye on the room behind him.
The bartender who approached him was dressed all in black, from the shirt to the vest to the slacks.
“What can I get you, sir?” he asked, placing a monogrammed cocktail napkin down onto the bar top in front of him.
“Just a beer. Thanks.”
“Bud okay?”
“Sure.”
The guy reached under the bar and opened up a fridge, pulling out the bottle before flipping a glass the right way up.
“Don’t worry about the glass,” he told him. “The bottle is fine.”
“Yes, sir,” the bartender replied, placing the beer down. “Are you a guest at the hotel?”
“I am.”
“Would you like me to charge this to your room?”
After giving the guy his room number, John said, “I appreciate it.”
“Of course, sir.”<
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John took his first pull from the bottle, his eyes staying on the mirror as he did. He turned when Beau walked in through the lobby and into the bar. His best friend smiled when he saw him, walking over and taking a seat beside him. The bartender who had served him magically appeared and took his order.
“How long ago did you get in?”
John glanced at his watch. “Maybe twenty minutes ago? Traffic was an absolute bitch.”
“How’s your room?”
“Beautiful, but I already know I’m going to be sick of the place by the time I’m done.”
A Bud was placed in front of Beau and he took a sip. “I can definitely see how that’s possible. So…”
His friend trailed off and John frowned and then followed his eyes. Turning around, he found a beautiful blonde standing beside him.
“Hi,” she said.
He gave her a kind but wholly uninterested smile, then turned back to Beau.
“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?” the woman said.
He turned back around, his eyes running down her body. “Oh, thanks, but I’m just having a drink with my friend here.”
The blonde’s blue eyes darted to Beau and then widened like she’d just come to a conclusion. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you two were a... couple. My mistake.”
“No, we’re not—”
But she was already gone. She was hustling back to one of the tables where another woman was sitting. She sat down and their heads came together as they spoke before the friend laughed.
“Damn,” John said.
“I thought you would’ve been all over that, my man,” Beau said, taking another sip.
That would’ve been true if he hadn’t met his redhead on Friday night. Not that there was any guarantee that he’d ever see her again. He ran a hand through his hair. “Just tired from the trip is all.”
Beau grunted but said nothing more. It was clear that the guy hadn’t believed a goddamn word, but John wasn’t ready to spill his guts about what had happened in Ethan’s office. In a way, he thought that if he spoke about it, it would somehow make like it had never happened. It was just one great drunk hallucination.
Beau turned around in his seat so he was facing the room. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
He grinned. “I don’t know. What am I doing?”
“Will you come to dinner with me?”
“Two dates in two nights? You must be sweet on me,” John retorted with a laugh.
Beau was quiet though, serious. “Will you be my best man, John?”
John put his beer down, got off his stool and wrapped his arms around his friend. A heartbeat later, the gesture was returned and a collective awww sounded around them. He glanced around to see that they had an audience and they obviously thought there was something momentous going on between them.
Clearing his throat, he sat back down. “Yeah, Beau. Of course, I will. I’d be honored.”
“Good. So, dinner tomorrow.”
“Name the place and the time and I will be there.”
“The place is called Providence. It’s on Melrose.”
“I'll get an Uber. What time?”
“Seven.”
John took a drink. “What’s the occasion?”
“Vee is asking her best friend if she’ll be the maid of honor. It’s pretty much guaranteed that she’ll say yes, so we want you guys to meet since you’ll be spending some time together.”
“Is she hot? No, wait. Is she single?”
Beau laughed. “She is a handful, that’s what she is. When I met her for the first time, she grilled me. In front of Vee.” He drained the rest of his beer. “Anyway. Have you eaten?”
“No, but I could definitely eat.”
“Come on, I know a place that has the best burgers.”
John finished his drink. “Now you’re speaking my language. All this”—he looked around at all the pretentious furniture and plastic people—“wealth is making my skin twitch.”
“Let’s get out of here, then.”
Walking through the lobby doors, they took a moment to appreciate a pearl white Lamborghini parked right out front. John whistled through his teeth. Now that was a bit of pretentious wealth he could handle. Stepping free of the circular driveway of the hotel, they walked side-by-side down the footpath, just shooting the shit until they got to the burger place. John had just taken a seat when his phone rang. It was a local number.
“I’ll order for both of us?” Beau asked.
“Great,” John replied, answering the call. “Hello?”
“Mr. Baxter? I apologize for the late call, but I’m afraid there was no other way to reach you.”
“It’s okay,” he told the woman. “What can I do for you…” He waited for her to play fill-in-the-blanks.
“Oh, where are my manners?” she said. “Forgive me. I’m Mother Catherine Marie, the Mother Superior here at Our Lady of the Rosary.”
“Oh, yes, Mother Catherine Marie. How are you? Robert told me you’d be getting in touch.”
“I am well enough. I apologize again for disturbing you this late.”
“It’s absolutely fine. What can I do for you?”
“I just called to let you know that there’s been a slight change of plan for tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
Beau returned to the table, placing down a couple of cups of soda.
“Yes, I’m afraid someone in the planning team is unable to meet with us tomorrow as previously arranged, so we have to postpone our initial meeting until Wednesday. I hope that’s not too much of an inconvenience for you?”
“No, not at all. It will actually give me a chance to find my way around.”
“Wonderful,” the nun replied. “I shall see you on Wednesday morning, then.”
“I look forward to it,” he replied, actually meaning it.
After he hung up, Beau asked, “You got a hot date?”
He laughed. “Something like that, yeah.”
Their food arrived then and they both got busy eating.
“So, wedding plans. Have you made any?”
Beau wiped his mouth with a napkin as he finished chewing. “Vee wants to get married by the end of the summer, so yeah, things are moving quickly.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Beau got this look on his face and that was all that John needed to know. His best friend was so fucking ready for it.
“I wasted a lot of time,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to start this next chapter with her.”
Amen to that, he thought. Amen to fucking that.
Nine
Natasha pushed through the glass and steel door of her building’s small gym and approached the only remaining treadmill. Slinging her towel over one of the railings, she did a couple of stretches before climbing on and getting the belt moving. She started slow, letting her muscles warm up.
It was a little after eight in the morning, so the place was relatively empty, except for the smoking hot guy on the only other treadmill in the gym. He gave her a small smile as her legs turned over, getting warmer. Popping her headphones in, she searched through her ancient iPod’s playlists and selected something that would keep her moving at a fast clip.
She upped the speed, her feet hitting the belt faster and faster, heavier and heavier as she ran herself into an exhaustion she couldn’t really afford to have, given she was about to work a twelve-hour day plus handle the initial meeting with the architect and Mother Catherine Marie.
In front of her, in the little caddy all good treadmills had, the face of her phone lit up with a call. Slowing the belt, she jumped off onto the sides and yanked the earbuds free.
“Your phone’s ringing,” Hot Guy said as soon as the buds were out of her ears.
“Thanks,” she said, answering the call.
“Mother Superior,” she said. “Sorry, I’m just at the gym.”
“Oh, I hope I didn’t interrupt your workout.”
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Grabbing the tail of the towel, she wiped nonexistent sweat from her brow, acutely aware of Hot Guy listening in from his treadmill. “It’s no problem. Are we all set for the meeting today?”
“No. That’s the reason I called. My assistant is unable to make the meeting and I really do trust and value her opinion. Is it okay if we postpone until tomorrow?”
She leaned against the treadmill’s railing. “Sure. That’s fine. I’ll just have to reshuffle some meetings—”
“If it’s too difficult…”
“This is more important than my meetings,” she reassured the Mother Superior. The truth was, she was really looking forward to this project. For a long time, she felt as if she didn’t have anything to show for all her long hours and sacrifices. This orphanage project though, this would leave a mark. This was something she could see and others could see. Putting the call on speaker, she flicked through her calendar on her phone and moved some things around. “It’s done. Same time tomorrow?”
“You are most generous,” Mother Catherine Marie said. “I’ll see you then.”
“See you then,” she replied, hanging up.
“Busy day?” Hot Guy asked.
She smiled at him. “You could say that.”
Starting up the treadmill’s belt, she decided on a walk to get the blood flowing again.
“I haven’t seen you around here before.”
She glanced at him. Well, if that wasn’t a line, she didn’t know what was. “I’m here almost every morning about this time,” she replied.
“I’ll have to remember that,” he said with a sinful grin.
Heat suffused her body, but she blamed that on her cardiovascular system switching on and getting ready to boogie.
“I’m Chad, by the way,” Hot guy—Chad—said.
“Natasha.”
They shook and his palm lingered against hers.
“What do you do, Natasha? You look like you’re in good shape.”
“I’m a lawyer, and I am,” she retorted with a sly wink. “I’m very, very flexible.”
Chad laughed throatily. “I imagine you are.” He licked his lips, his eyes drinking her in like he’d been walking through the desert and she was the first ounce of liquid he’d seen. “I don’t normally do this…” he began.
