The Tech Guy

by Fairchild, Lia

  As I entered the room, a quick flashback of our last congregation there hit me. I glanced at the evil printing device, made a wide course around it, and then turned back at Guy. His face flushed a rosy hue before he said, “Sorry about the other day. Did you ever get that stain out?”

  “It’s still at the dry cleaners.”

  Guy shrugged and gestured to a chair. “Have a seat.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  “Sure. You should know how this works as well as I do.”

  “Uh, okay.” I took a seat, surprised at how right he was. The more I knew the inner workings of the magazine, the more valuable I’d be. It’s not like I was technically challenged, though. I was usually too busy to deal with those types of issues.

  Guy knelt down beside me, so close I could smell the battle between freshly clean man and party scene. A faint aroma of beer floated from his mouth to under my nose. “So, first click here,” he said and he pointed.

  “I know that part,” I answered flatly.

  For the next few minutes he maneuvered me through our server, email server, and back-up system. He pointed out a number of weak spots and outlined his plans for our upgrade, including some great efficiency tips. I stifled the urge to show how impressed I was with his ideas, but he didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Guess he was as much of an overachiever as I was.

  “So you see,” he finally said, looking at me. “That email never even made it to our side of things. If you were worried maybe someone got their hands on it … didn’t happen.”

  “I’m sorry I wasted your time,” I said, turning to face him. Only he was still kneeling next to me, so our faces were uncomfortably close. A sudden craving for a cold beer flash through me.

  “I really didn’t mind,” he said, without moving.

  He reminded me of Adam with his easy-going attitude. Was he just as much of a ladies man, too? I reminded myself that it was none of my business what he did and with whom. He was so close that I noticed tiny gold smudges hiding in his deep blue eyes, hypnotizing me for a few seconds. I felt lost in them, like I was in that room in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory where you can’t tell how to get out. What did he say? “You’ve got to go forwards to go back.” But damned if I was going any deeper into those baby blues. That could only mean trouble.

  The small, poorly ventilated room turned stifling hot before I could say “Wonka Bar.” I stood with awkward speed like I’d just been announced the raffle ticket winner, almost knocking him on his ass.

  “Well, thanks anyway.” I walked over to the doorway and turned. “You still have time to get back and sing a few more numbers.”

  He stood and faced me. “How’d you know I was singing?” The right side of his mouth perked up into a sexy, confident smirk.

  “I didn’t.” I wasn’t about to tell him Jayne and I were talking about him. “I just assumed.”

  “So you think I’m the type of guy that would jump on stage like an idiot and start singing in front of strangers?”

  “I don’t know. Are you that type of idiot?” My smile gave me away.

  “Actually, I am,” he said. He ran his fingers through that thick, dark hair. “But you know, I think I’ll stay here for a while. I was going to come in tomorrow to start a back-up, so I might as well start it now that I’m here.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  He followed me out to the main lobby, where I lingered with guilt once again.

  “You need anything?” What was I going to bring him? A six-pack and some loose women to keep him company? I’d turned his night from fun to work because of my paranoia, but there was nothing I could do. Time to move on.

  “No, I’m fine.” With his hands shoved in his pockets he added, “This actually works out for me since I needed everyone off the server. So don’t feel bad.”

  He’d read my mind, or my expression was more obvious than I thought.

  “Don’t work too hard,” I said, heading for the door, then cringed. So lame.

  As I drove back home, I wondered if I’d have been better off match-making for Pop.

  ***

  The living room was dark when I entered, except for the glow from the television. Howard slouched on the couch with his feet stretched across an ottoman. I hung up my coat, walked between him and the TV, and then stood staring at him. Uh, hello? Anyone care I’m home? I kicked off my shoes, letting them fall next to the table. Then I proceeded to stare at the candle centerpiece like I was trying to telekinetically move it.

  My mind suddenly flashed to an imaginary scene at the office, everyone huddled in a corner of the lounge whispering among themselves, glancing my way with disgusted expressions. I blinked and shook my head. No, that’s not happening. Why was I suddenly doubting myself? When Bill hired me to write the “Newlywed News” column, I was thrilled and eager, but he knew I had my sights on something bigger. I put my time in, not to mention my soul and the sacrifices I’d made. Now I’m questioning whether I deserve it? Something was throwing me off my game, something—or someone—was the only reason I could see for second-guessing myself.

  As clear as the glass candleholder in front of me, I pictured the culprit: Guy. Though not funny, the thought made me laugh. I was better than that, and I wouldn’t let him shake me. I know—I’d said it before, but sometimes a girl needs an extra pep talk. Even if she has to be the one to give it to herself. I started to wonder why Howard hadn’t shushed me or even acknowledged my presence.

  “What’s up?” I asked, flopping down next him. I needed something to take my mind off my hideous psychosis.

  The beer I hadn’t noticed wedged between his legs shook and splashed the side of his pants.

  “Aw, come on!” Howard said, grabbing at the bottle.

  I took the hint that his night was not as super fun as mine was. “Sorry, honey. Didn’t see it.”

  He took a long swig and continued staring at a rerun of Doogie Howser, MD that I was sure he wasn’t really watching.

  “Something happen tonight?”

  “No.” He shook his head like he always did when he wanted me to exorcise the problem from him.

  No problem. I learned a long time ago that sometimes men are still little boys that need coddling. Even the biggest and strongest of them require a little baby talk or ego stroking to get them back on track. Grabbing my chin with my thumb and forefinger I spied up at the ceiling and uttered a couple of “hmms.” Then I put my arm around him.

  “Demotion at work? Lose an account?”

  No response.

  God I hope it’s not me. “I’m sorry. You’re razor is better than mine.”

  He shot me an annoyed look but went right back to the tube.

  “I put it back; hanging right in its little spot, one inch from the shaving cream.”

  Silence

  “C’mon what is it?”

  “My mother called,” he said, staring at Doogie, who was flirting with a young girl.

  “Oh. Right on schedule.” Howard hadn’t seen his parents in years after a falling out with his dad. As parents, those two showed about as much emotion and affection as plywood. His mother’s effort came in the form of a once-a-month phone call. Usually, Howard didn’t take the call, and her message was always the same. “Hi, Howard. It’s mom. Just wanted to see how you were doing. Watched the game with Dad last night. They had nice uniforms. Let’s talk, baby.” Howard was willing to overlook the fact that she had no clue about his business, which didn’t have anything to do with NFL uniforms. But stubborn as he was, there was no way he’d let them into his life again until his father called to apologize.

  I pulled my optimistic face together and asked brightly, “So what did she say?”

  Howard looked over and gave me the really? eye roll.

  “Sorry.” I turned to the TV to see if the young doctor could inspire an idea. When neither of us spoke and the credits started rolling, I thought of Howard’s sister. “What about Emilia?”

  “What about her?�
�� Howard said. He clicked the off button.

  “She should talk to your parents.” Howard didn’t know that Emilia and I had actually already had this conversation. She reminded me that Howard wasn’t the only one in the family that was stubborn.

  “No, she shouldn’t. I don’t want her mixed up in this. And besides, should she really have to talk to them?” Howard was finally starting to come to life and show some emotion. Maybe I was better off with zombie man. “Should anyone have to talk with them?”

  “No,” I answered solemnly. Sadness washed over me at the realization that Howard was right. His parents, mostly his dad, should care. He should want a relationship with his son. Even though my own father was a total flake, at least he showed me a smidgen of kindness … when he was around. And besides, I had my Pop. Howard deserved at least that much.

  “Exactly. So screw it. I don’t need them.”

  I kissed his cheek and grabbed his beer to steal a sip. “Well, you still have Pop. And don’t forget we’ve got Bill and Eleanor.”

  “Yep,” he said with a brave grin. “They’re the best fake parents I ever had.”

  A ping on my computer caught my attention. I jumped up to investigate. Mason had emailed me that his original message hadn’t gone through and resent it. There sat my new cover. I opened the file and gaped. Holy crap! My vision is live!

  Chapter 7

  The grumble in the pit of my stomach felt strangely satisfying as Jayne and I entered the gym. I liked to think that working out hungry burned more fat and calories. Not to mention the overall added suffering. Howard’s sister and I regularly met at Future Fitness after work, but this time I had Jayne with me. She claimed it had nothing to do with the fact that some of the guys from the office would be there practicing for the basketball tournament. Unfortunately, Jayne and Emilia didn’t get along, so I’d have to find a way to show my I’m sorry face to Emilia without Jayne seeing it. I would never admit it to either of them, but I was beginning to realize that my friendship with Emilia did not have a strong foundation. And the closer I got to Jayne, the more I realized how much I needed her as a friend.

  A text from Emilia told me she was running late, so Jayne and I headed to the indoor court to check on the fellas. I spotted Bill on the court practicing free throws and couldn’t help but smile. The big boss was shorter than everyone but was giving it his all. If there was anyone more competitive than I was, it was Bill. His next shot hit the rim and flung back so fast he had to duck to avoid getting hit.

  “Son of a bitch!” His scream echoed throughout the gym. He flinched and executed a 360-degree scan to make sure nobody witnessed his shot or his blowup. Of course, all eyes scattered, busy with other things.

  Adam noticed me and jogged over. Jayne stopped short to take a call on her cell.

  “What’s up, girl?” Adam offered me a fist bump, which I appreciated given his sweatiness. “Where’s your cheerleading outfit?”

  “Very funny. How’s it going?” I asked. I surveyed the area trying make out who was participating. “We any better than last year?” I hid my smirk as I watched Marty’s shot fly through the air and miss the rim by at least four feet. Poor guy was wasting his time. He had to know his hands would never touch that ball during the game.

  “Yeah, actually we’re doing pretty well,” he answered, looking back at the court.

  Then, my expression dropped as I saw Guy walking over to us and heard Adam say, “Especially now that we’ve got Guy.”

  “What? You invited him?”

  “What’s the big deal? We need him. This year we could actually win.” Adam, spurred by his chance for victory, executed a moon walk and then an imaginary jump shot. It was hard not to love Adam and his carefree nature, and I didn’t want to ruin his mood. But as Guy approached, I noticed something awful.

  “Oh my God, Adam! Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “Tell me what?” Guy arrived with a dumb jock expression painted across his face.

  “The shirt?” I said to Adam, with raised eyebrows.

  Adam glanced to Guy and then back to me. When he spotted Jayne coming up behind me the light bulb finally went off.

  “Oh, shit! I forgot,” Adam said.

  It was too late, Jayne had reached the three of us and there was no way out. Jayne wasn’t ashamed of her armpit fetish and admitted it to us at one of Adam’s parties. Merely the site of a man’s armpit hairs drove Jayne wild with desire. She said it was the most masculine trait a man displays. I wasn’t so sure of that. Needless to say, we had an unwritten rule for out-of-office attire: no tank tops! Too bad Adam didn’t warn Guy about the pitfalls of showing off his manhood.

  “Am I missing something?” Guy asked. He passed his gaze from me to Adam.

  I took in a deep breath and held it, hoping Adam would shut Guy up.

  “Naw, naw, naw, man. It’s all good. Let’s go practice those layups.” I loved how Adam could sound so unscholarly in a social setting, yet be so completely proficient in the English language.

  “Hey-ey, Guy,” Jayne said. Her eyes were so fixated on Guy that my hair could have been on fire and she wouldn’t have noticed. She stepped between Adam and me, stopping inches from Guy. Her gaze travelled up and down his body as she took in the view. It was like he was a mink coat she was about to try on.

  “I’m so excited you’re playing for our team,” she added, chest heaving.

  Guy’s dumb-jock expression changed to grinning idiot with the knowledge that he was being treated as a piece of meat. How can men like that?

  “Thanks, Jayne. I’ll do my best,” Guy said.

  The longer I stood there watching Jayne drool over Guy, the more I began to wonder if she was on to something. He did seem pretty masculine; hands on hips, dark hair peeking between bulging biceps and perfect pecs. Why did I suddenly feel like I’d just run the length of the court? I needed to get out of there.

  “Well, we’ve got to get going,” I said louder than I meant to. My hand grasped Jayne’s wrist, and I yanked her along as I backed away.

  “Bye, fellas.” She let out a whimpering cat noise before she joined me willingly. Then she gave one last look over her shoulder and sighed. “Can you believe that, Emma? I mean, I didn’t think Guy could get any hotter, and now this?”

  Patting her shoulder, I decided being an enabler was better than trying to fight it. “Guess it was your lucky day, Jaynie girl.”

  “Dreamy!” She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. I saw that her elation was fading, and we were in the clear.

  “Now let’s go work out that energy, shall we?”

  We met up with Emilia and chose treadmills to start—my idea. I’d solved tougher problems than encouraging Emilia and Jayne to get along, so I was determined to find some common ground. I figured I’d get the conversation going, then slip away to exercise alone. That would work for all of us.

  Emilia had recently broken up with her boyfriend as well, so that was my best bet. If I could get them both involved in the time-honored tradition of male bashing, they wouldn’t even notice me leaving. After all, what a woman hasn’t had her heart crushed, or at least dented, by the opposite sex?

  When it appeared as though Jayne had slipped into a trance on her machine, I wondered if she was thinking of her encounter with Guy.

  “Speaking of armpits,” I said casually. “Bet Hank has a pretty good set on him, eh, Jaynie?”

  “What did you just say?” Emilia asked.

  I couldn’t tell if that was utter confusion on her face or disgust. It was like I offered her a salted tire for lunch. I shook my head and blinked letting her know not to go there.

  “Yeah,” Jayne said. “He certainly was a manly man.”

  At six-foot-four, two hundred fifty pounds, I had to agree.

  “I do miss the big dope sometimes. I mean, he can’t help it if he’s an idiot,” Jayne said.

  “Cliff’s an idiot too, but I don’t miss him,” Emilia said.

  “When
did you two split?” Jayne asked. It was just like her to put someone else’s problems before her own.

  “Two weeks ago,” Emilia said.

  I figured this would be the perfect time to make my departure and let them bond over their common heartbreak. I eased myself off the treadmill, pointed to a cluster of machines in the corner, and crept away.

  Then I heard Jayne say, “Emma mentioned something about it when Hank and I split. Sorry to hear that.”

  Ah, progress. Feeling like the cat that ate Big Bird, I strode to the other side of the gym and sat at a machine. Keeping my arms toned was important, if not totally mandatory, but got more difficult over the years. Men lift their beer cans to keep their arms from getting flabby, and I gotta do this?

  I rested my water bottle on the ground next to me and got into position when I heard a voice say, “You need to sit up straighter.”

  I turned to my right to see who it was, but there was no one there. Then on the left, the same. Someone was messing with me. I immediately thought it was Adam. Again, I got into position, this time pausing to see if my prankster would surface.

  “Not straight enough,” the voice came again.

  Are you kidding me? I released my hands and realized whose voice I had heard. “Guy?”

  Stepping from behind my machine, Guy stood before me grinning. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t resist.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “The guys are taking a break so I’m just walking around.”

  “Oh,” was all I came up with.

  “So, is Howard going to play in the tournament?” He rested an arm on the top of my machine, and I tried hard not to eye Jayne’s favorite feature.

  “No … he’s not that into sports.”

  Guy smirked. “Uh, doesn’t he sell sportswear?”

  “So I guess he likes sports, he just doesn’t like to play them.”

  “Hey, that’s cool. Nothing wrong with that. Howard’s a great guy.”

  Why he was suddenly backpedaling I couldn’t figure out, but when I didn’t respond, he added, “You know, I wasn’t kidding about that machine, though. Can I show you?”