Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I tell him, “No pressure. But either way, I really enjoyed meeting you today. You’re a nice man.”
His smile is tight, almost pained looking, as he replies, “Honestly, the pleasure has been all mine.”
Chapter Eight
Gabe
“What’s with you tonight, man?” Eli asks, slapping me on the shoulder while we run back to center court. I just let the other team walk right up the middle and dunk a quick one on us, making the score 28-14 with only one minute left in the game. The bad guys are winning.
Every Wednesday, a group of guys who all went to law school together take over the St. Benedict’s school gymnasium to take out our frustration on each other. Eli’s wife is a teacher here, so she lets us use the gym as long as we don’t leave a mess or swear too loudly (in case someone’s working late). There are ten of us who show up every week, meaning no one sits out. Which also means we’re a sweaty mess by the end. We play hard, then grab a beer together at the bar down the street.
Our standing deal is that if one team doubles the other team’s points, the losers have to buy the drinks and sing a song of the other team’s choosing. It’s always “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” by Shania Twain. Every damn time.
“Sorry,” I pant. “My mind is elsewhere.” On a certain hotel receptionist that I shouldn’t be thinking about.
“Well, get it the hell back here because I refuse to sing Shania again!”
As soon as the forwards start their charge, I go straight for the best guy out here, Terrell, who really did play Varsity and currently has the ball. I tuck in and make a grab for it, but he swivels around, and bounce passes it to one of his teammates, who goes for a layup, and ends the game 30-14.
Much swearing and complaining ensues, causing Eli to panic and tell us to cut the cursing. “Seriously, guys, they’ll kick us out for good if you don’t settle down.”
The rest of the guys on my team shake their heads at me like our losing is all my fault, which it kind of is. “Sorry, fellas, it just isn’t my night.”
An hour later, we’ve showered, changed, and humiliated ourselves yet again after serenading a bar full of people about how we color our hair and do what we dare. Finally, we settle around the two long tables that have been pushed together and I get my first sip of icy cold beer. Terrell, who is sitting to the right of me, asks, “Woman or work troubles?”
“What?”
“It’s gotta be one or the other for you to play like you did tonight,” he says, tipping back his bottle of Bud. Terrell and I roomed together during our last two years in law school, so he knows my moods well.
“It’s nothing. It’s been a weird week.” Sighing, I ask, “Do you ever find yourself wondering if you’re maybe on the wrong path?”
“Nope,” he says. “I always knew I wanted to be a civil rights lawyer and that’s what I’m doing.” He smiles and nudges me on the arm. “You want to join me? You’d be really good at it and we can always use another ace on the team.”
Shaking my head, I tell my friend, “Thanks, but I like what I do. It’s not sexy, but it pays the bills.”
“You like it, but you don’t love it,” he says.
“Does anyone love what they do? I mean, really?” I ask him.
“I sure as hell do.” He shakes his head at me, then scrunches his nose up as if he’s smelling a bucket full of sweat. “But hospitality law? Who could love that?” He has a sip of beer, then answers his own question. “Nobody, that’s who.”
I chew on my bottom lip for a second, considering his words. “The funny thing is, I thought I was happy until one of my interns pointed out that I’m about to ruin a guy’s life for not hiring a better lawyer a few years ago.”
“Ah, so you’re having a crisis of conscience,” Terrell says, making a tsking sound. “That’s not good, man. If you’re going to swim in the shark tank, you gotta be a great white, not a dogfish,” Terrell says.
“I’m no dogfish,” I say, feeling immediately defensive. “I am definitely a great white … or a tiger shark at least.” I’m just wracked with guilt a lot of the time. “I have to get through this case, then I’ll be fine.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, even though I can tell by his face he’s not buying it. “You know, when we were in school, you were all about international law—going on and on about human rights this and environmental that. And now … you’re a corporate hitman.”
“What’s your point?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
Tilting his head, Terrell says, “I’m wondering how you went from being the guy who was going to fight for the little guy to the guy who’ll squash him like a bug for cash.”
“Nothing like a good friend to give it to you straight,” I answer, not sure if I’m being sarcastic or if I actually mean it. “I don’t know. How does anyone end up where they are? I decided against international work because of all the travel. If you want to have a family, you can’t be gone half the year. Then they offered me the position at Murphy and I took it.”
“Do you want to have a family? Because if you do, you’re sure taking your sweet time about it.”
“Of course, I do,” I snap. “Definitely. I want kids and the house with a yard and all of it.” Someday. Maybe.
Holding up both hands in surrender, Terrell says, “Okay, okay. I’m not trying to start something.”
“Good, because I didn’t come out tonight so I could have you, of all people, dissect my life.”
His head snaps back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” I say with a sigh.
“Don’t back down now, dogfish,” he says. “You meant something.”
I glare at him before I answer. “It’s just that someone who’s so anti-marriage probably shouldn’t be judging those of us who do want a family but just don’t want to rush into it.”
“I feel you,” Terrell says with a conciliatory nod. “I’m not suggesting you and Alexis should fly to Vegas tonight and throw away her birth control pills. I’m just saying that what you say you want and what you’re doing don’t add up … and maybe there’s a reason for that.”
“There isn’t. Alexis and I have a plan and I’m not going to let her down.” I take a big gulp of ale, then add, “Besides, what’s bugging me has nothing to do with her and everything to do with this stupid case. Once I get through it, everything will go back to normal.”
“Will it?” he asks. “There will be other innocent little minnows in the pond that you’re going to have to attack, you know.”
“First of all, sharks are ocean-dwellers and second of all …” I pause, not knowing what my next argument was supposed to be. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Look, you’re my friend, Gabe, and you don’t seem happy. And to be honest, you haven’t been for a long time. Now, maybe everything’s fine with you and Alexis. Only the two of you know that. But maybe you’re second guessing everything for a reason, you know? You took the job at Murphy when you were what, twenty-five? And now you’re sticking with it even though you seem pretty miserable.”
“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug. “It’s fine. Just … forget I said anything. I’m happy.”
“Sure you are,” he says, oozing sarcasm.
I chuckle out of frustration. “Can you imagine how pissed Alexis would be if I decided to start over at this point?”
He clears his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing, she’s a great gal,” he says, holding up both hands in surrender. “If being with her and practicing the world’s most boring type of law make you happy, who am I to say anything?”
“Well, they do,” I tell him. “I think I’m just … having a super early mid-life crisis or something. It’s all fine though. I’m fine.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
I have a swig of my drink, trying to douse the worry building i
n my gut. When I woke up this morning, I was so sure about my life and now, I’m questioning everything. And all because of some intern and a hotel receptionist I shouldn’t be thinking about?
No, forget it. I have a plan. Alexis and I are going through a rough patch, but that’s all it is. We’re good together. And I like my job. I do. And once I get through the Bulgari case, I’ll be excited about it again.
I hope.
Chapter Nine
Jen
As soon as I got back from lunch, Todd jumped all over me for using the front door. Apparently, someone saw me and ratted me out. I straight out lied and told him that Mr. Collins’ friend was asking me a question as he walked out of the building, and I couldn’t very well not follow him. I don’t think Todd believed me, but whatever.
Then he handed me an envelope. I asked him who it was from, but he didn’t know. He said it just appeared. Which, call me crazy, seems like something God would do.
Ripping open the seal, I pull out a note and a gift card. The note read: I thought this would come in handy when you shop for some new clothes. G.
The gift card was for Macy’s! Also, it was from God, and he and I are apparently so tight he’s calling himself G now. I wish Pops weren’t in a nursing home with dementia because he would so love to hear how God is performing miracles for me.
I was getting super-excited, when Todd said, “Day one and your friends are already showing up looking for you? Not very professional. Also, when you were talking to Mr. Daly, it looked to me like you were flirting.”
“I was not,” I said, mustering as much indignation I could while lying through my teeth.
“I’m not sure if you realize this, but Mr. Collins trusts my judgment implicitly when it comes to all things front desk-related, especially new hires,” Todd said. “You need to understand you’re on notice, Ms. Red Dress. This is your work, not a party.”
Narrowing my eyes, I told him, “I don’t think you and I are going to be friends.”
“What was your first clue, Sherlock?”
And that was the good part of my day. The rest pretty much went downhill faster than a bowling ball down a greased-up lane. As hard as I tried, I could not master the computer system—especially not with Todd the Tyrant hovering over me and snapping at me whenever I made a mistake. Honestly, at this point, I kind of wish I had a job with Lavender. But I’m no quitter, so I’m going to keep going back and doing the best I can. I’ll catch on eventually. Besides, God put me there for a reason. There’s no way I’m giving up the opportunity he’s given me.
I’m currently standing in the dressing room of Macy’s Herald Square for a late-in-the-day shopping trip, trying to talk myself into buying the most boring black suit I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s marked down by fifty percent (probably because it’s so dull). I could wear it every day and no one would even notice it’s the same suit. Which is why it’s perfect.
After spending two hundred bucks on death clothes, I take the rest of my five-hundred-dollar card (!!!) and pick up a pair of kill-me-now-I’m-so-ugly black pumps, two colorful scarves to try to perk up the suit a little, and then I stop off at the Junior Mister department and buy Zay a new sweater to wear on his first day into work.
By the time I’m all done, I still have a hundred bucks left. While I really should keep it for a rainy day, as a rule, I’m too impulsive for that kind of planning. My impulses are currently telling me to go to the gourmet food shop and buy goodies for me, Zay, and his sister Seraphina for our weekly wrap-up dinner that we inexplicably have on Wednesday night instead of Friday, which would make more sense.
While sitting in the subway car on the way home, I pull out my phone and text God.
JFlan: You are the best! Like seriously, I love you, I worship you. The Macy’s card was such a HUGE help, I can’t even tell you.
GOD: How are you liking the new gig?
JFlan: It’s so great. I work with the nicest people.
I lie like a rug, but I don’t want God to think I’m ungrateful.
GOD: I’m happy to hear that. The front desk at a hotel isn’t for everyone.
JFlan: It’s exactly what I need right now. Seriously, it’s like it was meant to be.
GOD: Don’t forget about your other dreams. You didn’t spend all that extra time in school just to work in a hotel.
JFlan: You are so right and don’t worry, I’ve already figured out why you picked The Asher for me. I got a lead just today and am closer than ever to making my dream a reality.
GOD: Good for you. Remember, your future is what you make of it.
JFlan: I’m so glad I have you in my corner. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never forget all your help. Ever. In fact, I’m paying a little bit of your gift card forward. I bought Zay something to wear on his first day of work, so that he’ll have more confidence.
GOD: Nice. Is Zay strapped for cash too?
JFlan: Nah, he does all right for himself, but he’s strapped for self-esteem. It’s hard to be a thirty-four-year-old man in New York City and not even be five feet tall.
GOD: Ah, that’s why he needs the lifts.
JFlan: Yup. Sometimes when I feel sorry for myself, I think about how bad Zay feels about himself and I just shut up. It would have been nice if Zay had not had that glandular issue.
I don’t want God to think I’m calling him out, but I am totally calling him out.
GOD: Our challenges make us stronger. If we didn’t have struggles, we wouldn’t have appreciation.
So much for making God feel bad.
JFlan: I guess.
GOD: Listen, I gotta go, but I’m really glad you’re happy with the job. Keep a smile on your face and I’m sure you’re going to go places.
While I expect more than platitudes from God, I really do appreciate his interest in me.
JFlan: Please let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you. Seriously, I owe you big.
GOD: That’s a big ten-four. Later.
I’m so tired by the time I get home, it’s all I can do to hike up the stairs to my apartment. It’s not like working at the hotel is physically hard, but it’s a real drain on my mental well-being.
I knock on Zay’s door on the way to my apartment. He opens it wearing the pair of heels I gave to him the other night. “I’ve been walking around in these death traps all day and I think I finally have the swing of it.” He spins and shuffles and even manages to throw in some jazz hands to emphasize his newly acquired skill. He ends his routine with an open-mouthed grin that has me clapping and him bowing. “Thank you. I’ll be here all week. Make sure to tip your waitress.”
“Wow! Nice job, Zay,” I say with a nod. “If your lifts don’t come in time, you can borrow my shoes.”
“I’ll get back to you on that,” he says, even though we both know he won’t. “Where have you been anyway? I thought your shift ended at five. I almost started our weekly roundup on my own.”
“Isn’t Seraphina coming?” I ask.
“No, she’s decided to add a ‘Drink for Your Sign’ page to her ‘Live According to Your Star Sign’ app. I’m pretty sure she’ll be three sheets to the wind before much longer.”
Seraphina is a real piece of work and I love her for it. No one would ever guess she graduated at the top of her class at Yale business school, but she did. She’s made a ton of money creating and selling apps. Her latest has to do with her love of all things astrological. It started out with dressing for your sign, but has grown into eating for your sign, exercising for your sign, and dating for your sign. I guess drinking for your sign was the next logical step.
Leading the way across the hall to my apartment, I tell my friend, “The craziest thing happened. I was told I needed to dress in more somber business fare—apparently guests at The Asher prefer to feel like they’re going to a funeral.” I drop the bags at my feet and unlock the door while Zay shuffle steps around the wood floor hallway. “Yo
u better cut that out or Mrs. Grouchy Pants in 3B is going to bang on the ceiling with her broomstick again.”
“If she does, I’ve been practicing my Riverdance routine and I can keep it going for a surprisingly long time,” Zay says with an evil grin.
Once we get inside and I drop the bags on my kitchen table, I walk over and check on Frank. Still swimming. I drop a few flakes into the bowl while Zay makes himself comfortable on my couch.
“So, anyway, about the crazy thing that happened,” I say. “I was really worried when Todd—the total jerkface who I’ll tell you all about later—told me I needed a new wardrobe. Um, hello? I’m broke, which is why I needed a job in the first place. Anyway, I texted God to tell him about my dilemma and he wrote right back saying that he’d take care of it. And literally a few hours later I was handed an envelope from someone who’d dropped off a gift card for me for Macy’s!”
I pause dramatically, expecting Zay to get super excited, but he just stares at me with this really skeptical look on his face. Maybe he doesn’t get how amazing this is. “For five hundred dollars.” Then I mouth five while flashing five fingers open-closed-open-closed for effect.
Huh. Nothing. I dig through the packages until I find the one for him and hold it out. “I got you this for Monday.”
He takes the bag and pulls out a nice, navy cotton sweater. It’s not like Zay needs to wear a sweater in the middle of summer, but in addition to his stature, he’s also conscious of how skinny his arms are. For that reason, he’s generally in long sleeves. I figured the sweater could carry him into fall.
Zay smiles up at me. “Thank you for thinking of me. You’re honestly the sweetest person I know. Seriously, Jen, if the rest of the world was like you, I’d go out of this building almost every week, maybe.”
The Text God: Text and You Shall Receive ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 2) Page 6
