by Kelly Myers
I look up and see my handsome brother walk in, kiss my mom on the cheek and then plop down in the chair next to me. There’s a huge bruise on his face.
“What happened?”
He raises a dark brow.
“To your face?” I clarify.
“Oh, um…” He runs a hand along the scruff on his jawline, but it’s not enough to cover the black and blue mark. “It’s nothing. Just a silly accident.” He flashes me a dazzling white smile, but his gaze says “end of conversation.”
Maybe he doesn’t want to say anything in front of Mom, I think. I’ll ask him later, in private.
Tall and tan with dirty blond hair and sea-colored eyes, James looks like a typical California surfer. I smile back, but my look says “you are going to tell me later.”
Even though James Douglas and I have different fathers and last names, we never refer to each other as being a “half” brother or sister. Though ten years apart, we’re extremely close and he’s as protective as any big brother.
“Sorry I’m late, ladies, but there’s a lot going on at work,” he says, and reaches for a piece of baked chicken. James is the owner of a very successful technology company that he started all by himself. It’s only a few years old and relatively small still, but this past year it has really taken off. If I knew anything about technology, I’d go work for my brother, but it’s not my niche.
James is also extremely laid-back and easygoing, yet possesses a keen intelligence which makes him the perfect boss.
I only hope Drew Carson will be as good a boss as my brother. If I get the job at Carson Industries.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It will be,” he says and butters a roll. “But, no shoptalk at the table. What I miss?”
“Laurel got engaged,” I announce. I don’t want to talk about Carson Industries anymore. Or, think about Drew Carson, my potential, hot future boss.
“It’s about time,” my Mom says. “Haven’t they been living together for the past two years?”
Leave it to my Mom to be brutally honest. “Yes, but they wanted to take their time and finish school. Get more financially stable.”
“Hmm. Well, good for them. Hopefully it lasts,” she says.
James bursts out laughing and I just shake my head.
“What?” Eilene asks, all innocence. “Everyone knows half of marriages end in divorce. It’s no secret.”
“Oh, Mom, you’re such a romantic,” I tease.
“I’m a realist, honey. And, if it took him two years to propose, that’s not a very good sign.”
“Mom!”
“All I’m saying is most people know right away.”
“What about you and my Dad?” my brother asks. He loves to rile her up.
For a moment she says nothing. Then, “James, your father and I fell in love the moment we saw each other in the freshman homeroom. We were 14 and I was pregnant by the time we were 18. Unfortunately, we were too young and naive for it to work.”
James and I exchange a look. Mom rarely talks about her first marriage and I never imagine her as someone who believes in love at first sight. I guess sometimes you don’t know everything about your parents.
An alert sounds on my phone. I left it on a side table, and James reaches over to grab it since his long arm can reach. He glances down as he’s handing it over to me and his eyes go wide.
“PerfectMatch.com?” he asks in disbelief.
Oh, no. My face heats up as I snatch the phone away and flip it upside down on the table. I do not want to have this conversation right now. Or ever.
Silence.
I glance up and they’re both staring at me, waiting for an answer.
I groan. “Laurel made me do it. Trust me, I didn’t want to, but she practically forced me.”
“Leigh, let’s face it, no one can make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
She’s right. If I really didn’t want to make that profile, nothing would’ve convinced me. I let out a sigh. “It’s not a big deal and I’m sure nothing will come of it.”
“Well, it looks like you got a message so somebody’s interested,” James teases.
“Shut up,” I tell him.
“I think this could be interesting,” my Mom says. “I thought about joining a 50’s+ dating site, but I’m not very good at all that texting and emailing nonsense. Too high tech for me.”
“I could help you, Mom,” James offers with a charming smile. “I don’t know if you forgot, but I do run a tech company.”
“No,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Call me old-fashioned, but I like to have that first look across the room experience.”
I know exactly what she means. My phone beeps again and I almost choke on the food in my mouth. Was it another message from PerfectMatch?
“Aren’t you going to check?” my brother asks, a gleam in his seafoam eyes.
I take a sip of my water and then casually flip my phone over. Yep, another message from PerfectMatch.com. I slide my ringer off so they can’t hear if I get any more alerts.
My brother laughs when I don’t say anything. “Another one! Ash, you’re gonna have a ton of dates.”
I give a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe. Who knows? I might not be interested in any of them.”
“Yeah, they could be a bunch of weirdos living in their parents’ basement.”
“James!” Oh, geez, I never really thought about that. My eyes get big as another thought hits me. “Or, a crazy serial killer.” Ugh, why do I listen to Laurel?
“I doubt that,” my Mom says. “Just a lot of lonely and desperate people out there.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say and roll my eyes.
“I don’t mean you, honey.”
I lift a finger and whirl it around, motioning to the whole table. “You know what? Everyone at this table is single so I don’t want to hear another word from either of you, thank you very much.”
Later that night, after I’m safely away from my teasing family and back at my apartment in my bedroom, I open the PerfectMatch.com app. Twenty messages! I can’t believe it. Then, I remember my filtered picture and my ego checks itself.
I open the first message, my heart beating hard. It simply says, “Hey.”
I blink, scroll down and search for more, but that’s it. Hey. Um, okay, could you be any more generic?
I move on to the next message: “You are the most hottest girl on here. Let’s meet up and see where this can go. XOXO.”
First of all, eww. Secondly, “most hottest?” I mean, I know not everyone is an English major, but I have no intention of dating a man who speaks like an uneducated little boy.
This is looking glum. Nevertheless, I keep opening messages and, believe it or not, they keep getting worse. Some of the most memorably offensive ones include:
“Mmm, let’s fuck.” Mmm, let’s not.
“Hey there, girl. You like foot rubs?” Not from creeps like you.
“Will you take my virginity?” He seriously looks 12. Not even kidding.
“I’m currently in the hour of the day when I do nothing (except watch pointless TV, drink protein shakes or masterbate) until I go to the gym. Thought I’d say hi.” Yes, he really spelled masturbate wrong.
“Can I tickle you until you piss yourself?” I truly have no words. Serial killer, maybe?
“Do I make you horny, baby?” No. And, how original.
“i know i have no chance with u IRL so if i pay u $500 would u suck me and let me lick u?” I can’t even.
What a complete waste of my time. Just as I’m about to shut this app forever, I see this: “Leigh, I see you like mint chocolate chip ice cream and pizza which makes us kindred spirits. Are you talking about deep-dish, Chicago-style? If not, this might be doomed before it begins ; ) Andy.”
Huh, interesting. Okay, Andy, you have my attention. I click on his profile and check out his picture. It’s a little fuzzy, but when I zoom in for a close-up I can see he is a good-looking guy.
Dark hair, blue eyes and an adorable smile with a dimple in his left cheek. Thirty, maybe?
In his bio section, there’s only one sentence: “Looking for ‘The One’ because I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Ohhh. My heart tightens. That’s kind of sweet. I can’t believe this guy is single. He’s too cute and seems nice. I wonder what’s wrong with him?
Then, I remind myself that no one looks like their picture.
I wonder if Andy is even real?
Despite my doubts, I start to compose a message back.
Chapter Six
Drew
It’s finally Monday morning and I sit at my desk. The modern, large corner office has floor to ceiling windows that provide a panoramic view of the Financial District including the double-decker Bay Bridge and, when I look out, I feel like a King on my throne, ready to take on the world.
I drink hot, black coffee and check my emails. Then, I make a couple of calls. Receive a few calls. No new information about the JD Unlimited takeover yet and that’s all I’m really concerned about.
My mind begins to wander and I pull up the PerfectMatch.com app on my phone. There are around 60 new messages, but I’m only interested in one. My eyes skim down and I search for Leigh’s response. If there is one.
My heart thuds hard in my chest when I see it. I release a long, pent-up breath and open it.
“Nice to meet you, Andy. Although I’ve never been to Chicago, I have enjoyed a pan pizza from the local place down the street. Why do I get the feeling that I’m missing out? And, what does a guy from SF know about Chi-town? I’m an optimist so I wouldn’t say we’re doomed quite yet...Leigh.”
I feel my mouth edge up in a smile. “Leigh,” I write, “I grew up in Chicago so you have to understand two things: nothing beats the food, whether it’s the hot dogs, pizza or doughnuts, and the Cubs rule. If we were there, I’d take you to the Green Mill where we could listen to some jazz and sit in Al Capone’s old booth. That is, if you like jazz and a good gangster story? Andy.”
After I hit send, I delete all of the other messages. When something catches my interest, I focus all of my attention on it. And, Leigh intrigues me.
It’s weird, I think, but there’s something about this girl. She feels genuine and that’s not something I encounter often.
An alert sounds and I look down. She already wrote back and I open the new message. “Gangsters and jazz, huh? I’m intrigued…”
Me, too, honey.
“I’m not a sports fan,” she continues, “so, I’ll take your word about the Cubs ruling. However, you must understand some things about me, too. I love my morning coffee more than breathing and it has to be hot and black.”
I pick up my mug and take a drink. I couldn’t agree more.
“My family means the world to me and I’d do anything for them. My idea of a perfect night is curling up in a chair with a good book and my dog. I don’t have the dog yet, though, because my building doesn’t allow pets : ( What about you?”
I lean back in my chair and decide how to answer. A good book and a dog is her perfect night? And, technically, she doesn’t even have the dog yet.
Shit, that’s kind of sad.
Maybe she doesn’t go out much. I could take her out on the town and show her off. We would eat at some new, chic restaurant that would be impossible for a normal person to get into and then take a spin in the Lamborghini. Drive across the Golden Gate Bridge and stop at some quaint little bar in Sausalito for a drink. Then, we’d go back to my place and I’d pull her into my arms and-
“Mr. Carson?”
I look up and frown. “What?” I snap. I hate being interrupted when I’m in the middle of a thought.
Becca stands in the doorway, pushes up the tortoiseshell glasses that slide down her thin nose, and wrings her hands. She’s a nervous creature, always looking at me like a deer caught in headlights. She’s filling in since my last assistant was promoted and it takes her five minutes to spit anything out.
I lose patience fast with people who waste my time and Becca walks that fine line. I really need to find someone else or I might end up saying something I regret. And, then I can just imagine Becca bursting into tears and running away.
God, I hate it when women cry. I don't know what to say or do. It makes me uncomfortable and I will do anything to avoid it.
“Um,” she says. Behind the lenses, her eyes actually look like they might be shimmering already.
I take a deep breath and soften my voice. “What do you need, Becca?”
“Your ten o’clock appointment is here,” she whispers.
“My ten o’clock-” With a frown, I pull up my calendar. Oh, right. Dan McPherson. “Send him in.”
She disappears before the words are even out of my mouth. I roll my eyes. The last thing I want is to have to tiptoe around fragile employees. I know that I can be loud, difficult and demanding so I prefer the people who work for me to have thick skin. I hate crybaby shit.
“Drew, good to see you,” Dan says as he walks inside my office.
I shake his hand and motion for him to sit in the leather chair in front of my desk.
“You, too, Dan. Have a seat.”
Dan McPherson is the closest thing to a real friend that I have out here. We met years ago at a neighborhood bar when we were both new to the city and struggling to make it. Shrewd and intelligent, it didn’t take either of us long to find a modicum of success. Within a year, we both launched into the San Francisco stratosphere.
“I hate to give you bad news this early on a Monday, but James Douglas is about to kick you in the jewels. Literally.”
A muscle flexes in my cheek. Bastard. I had a feeling our little run-in over the weekend was going to cause problems. That’s why I tried to avoid him.
“What the hell happened outside the Pacific Club?” Dan asks. His keen gaze lowers to my jawline. “Nice bruise, by the way.”
I shift my weight in the chair and narrow my eyes. “That fucker came after me. What was I supposed to do?”
“Walk away.”
My lips tighten and my hand clenched into a fist. I wish Douglas was here so I could punch him in the face again. “You know I don’t walk away from a fight.”
“Seriously, Drew, you’re not a kid on the South side anymore. You’re a grown-ass adult and semi-respected businessman. Show some character.”
“Semi-respected?”
Dan smirks. “Believe it or not, some people consider you too big a pain in the ass to deal with.”
“So put ‘em on my payroll. They’ll be smilin’ out their assholes in no time.”
“Look, I don’t know why you and Douglas felt the need to throw punches at each other Saturday night, but now he’s talking about either selling the R&D division off to another company or spinning it off into a separate corporation.”
Motherfucker. It’s known as the crown jewels defense and basically the perfect way to make his company less valuable and encourage me to walk away. The only reason I want JD Unlimited is because they have a highly-regarded research and development division. Without that, I’ll have nothing of value.
I throw my hands up. “What the fuck? How did this turn into such a shitshow?”
Dan shrugs. “If I were you, I’d walk away.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from cursing Dan to the moon and back. I taste blood. And, like any shark, I swim toward the chum, ready to attack whatever flounders in the water.
“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “Somewhere along the way, this turned personal. You know he actually said that he’d let the company go bankrupt before selling it to me?”
Dan shakes his head. “Drew, as your lawyer, it’s my job to advise you regarding the best course of action and-”
“I’m taking his company. One way or the other.”
Dan knows better than to argue with me once I make up my mind. And, it’s crystal clear that I’m going to own JD Unlimited and I don’t give a shit if it’s
worth $1 or $100 million after I take it over.
Because now, my ego is involved and I’ve got too much pride to back down.
Anyone who fucks with me goes down. Plain and simple.
Chapter Seven
Ashley
“No pets and work too much to have one right now, anyway. But, I’ve always been partial to German Shepherds.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a businessman. Nothing too exciting.”
“I have a degree in business. Actually, I’m on my way to a job interview right now and I’m getting more and more nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous. Just be your amazing self and remember, they’d be lucky to have you. Let me know how it goes and good luck, Leigh!”
I tuck my phone into my purse with a smile then glance down at my watch and see I have ten minutes until the scheduled interview at Carson Industries. Andy and I have been chatting all morning. The more we message, the more I’m starting to like him. We seem to have a lot in common and I get the feeling that he’s a good guy.
And, honestly, that’s all I’m looking for. A man with a kind heart.
Of course, he is gorgeous, too, and that never hurts.
I look up at the tall skyscraper in the middle of the Financial District, take a deep breath and walk through the revolving door.
Carson Industries takes up five floors and I step off the elevator on the 25th floor. I think the Human Resources Department is on this level, but I’m not completely positive. Crap. This is going to take longer than it should, I realize with a sinking feeling. First impressions are everything and being late for an interview is the kiss of death.
I rush up the hallway, my heels clicking, and search frantically for a door with Human Resources on its plaque.
Dammit, why didn’t I come up earlier?
Because you were too busy messaging Andy, a small voice reminds me.
I hurry around the corner, out of breath, and pause. Great, another long-ass hallway. I take off, faster than before as the seconds tick down to the moment that makes me officially late.
Still no sign of the HR Department. I might not even be on the right floor, I think. Up ahead, I see an open door and decide it’s probably best to poke my head in and ask for directions.
