When we left, I felt hopeful that at least things would work out for Howard. He would finally be able to be himself, live the life he wanted. In the car on the way home, I told him how happy I was for him, that he’d found someone. And he wouldn’t be tied down by me. Of course, he told me I’d never tied him down. That our relationship meant the world to him. But I knew the reality would be that we’d drift apart. He was moving on to bigger and better things while I tried to pick up the pieces of my life. Then, out of nowhere he brought him up.
“Have you spoken to Guy?”
I looked at him like he’d just grabbed my left breast. “Why the hell would I have talked to Guy?”
He shrugged and cowered. “I don’t know. I thought maybe he’d have called you, or something.”
“Or what?” I couldn’t dissect my anger at that moment, but it seemed to scare the heck out of Howard. And I knew why he was asking, but I didn’t want to face anything that had to do with Guy. That situation couldn’t be more messed up.
“Nothing.” He smiled and patted my leg. “Everything’s going to work out for you, too. You’ll see.”
“Yeah, sure. Once I move back in with Pop, find a new job—hey, maybe I could be your waitress—and some new friends, everything will be freaking awesome.”
“Wait a minute. Who says you have to move out?”
“I just assumed.”
“What? That Kelly and I would move in together and live happily ever after?”
“Yeah.”
“Slow down there, Missy. I said I thought I was in love with him. Once step at a time.”
I didn’t know if that was the truth or if he felt sorry for me and was trying to make me feel better. Either way, I didn’t care—because it did make me feel better. I let myself smile, just a little. “Thanks.”
He took my hand and squeezed. “We may have screwed the whole thing up, but we’re still in this together.”
***
The next day I went to the office to clear my things out. No, I hadn’t officially been fired yet. I didn’t give Bill the chance. As soon as his mouth opened, I bolted as if the doors had just opened at a Black Friday sale, leaving whispered apologies in my wake. Thank God, it was at the end of the night, and it didn’t appear that many people beyond our little clan heard what went on. He’d left me a voicemail that night to call him when I was ready to talk. I knew how completely cowardly it was to avoid him, but I’d been in fight or flight mode. That was followed by self-bashing mode and feel-sorry-for-myself drunk mode.
Since I wasn’t quite ready to return Bill’s call, I drove to the office planning to empty out my desk. I wanted to do it without an audience. Then on Monday, once I’d worked out in my mind what I wanted to say, I would call Bill. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was. But there was so much more. How could I explain that I’d never lie to him now? How lame would it sound to say that was an old lie? That I’d changed, and mostly because of him and Jayne. And that I actually had planned to come clean with the whole story after the party.
There really wasn’t anything I could come up with that sounded acceptable. I only hoped I could find a way to convince him to let me quit so I wouldn’t have to explain getting fired on any applications. Maybe he could make a concession for all that I had done for the magazine.
I pulled into the lot mid-morning, parked in the back, and stared out the window at our office. The sun reflected off the glass building and through my windshield. I pulled the visor down to block it and checked myself in the mirror. Even I didn’t want to look at me, so I quickly turned away. I felt the weight of my body sink into the seat as I wondered if that was the last time I’d visit New You.
I unlocked my door and grabbed the empty box from the passenger seat. But before I got out, a car pulling into the lot caught my eye. It stopped along the sidewalk next to the main entrance. I had hoped to avoid seeing anyone, so I slid lower in my seat. I was far enough back that whoever it was may not have seen me.
A second later, the front door opened and Marty came out. He hopped in the passenger side, but I couldn’t see who was driving. Most of our freelance writers had keys to the office, and there were times they needed to come in on the weekend. But I couldn’t think of a reason why Marty would be there now. He didn’t owe me any stories, and we’d just closed the new issue. Could Guy have sent him in to do some type of backup? My mind spun as the car pulled out onto the street. Then something inside of me caused my hand to jam the key into the ignition and start the car.
I followed the light-blue Volkswagen Bug at a safe distant for a couple of blocks, thinking all the while how idiotic it was. Of all people, why would I care what Marty was doing and who he was doing it with? But something kept me right on his tail, determined to see who was driving. At the next intersection, the light turned yellow before they passed the crosswalk. The driver accelerated through the light. I was two cars back and switched lanes to try to make it. The black-and-white car at the front of the adjacent intersection had me slamming on the brakes instead. I watched intensely, hoping the next light would stall the Bug. Instead, the car turned into a parking lot to the right. I tapped the steering wheel with my thumb, growing more anxious with every second. The light turned green, but thanks to the officer, I drove on at a leisurely pace.
I took the same turn they did and pulled into a small shopping center. I’d been there before and remembered a gas station, a few small shops, and a café. I turned down the first row, scanning for light blue. Two rows checked and I still didn’t see the car. I worried that they’d passed through and went right back out without me noticing. I headed down the third row, looking left and right. I spotted Marty and his companion walking two rows over. They were headed to the café, and I could now see the other person was a female. She was much shorter than he, and something about her seemed familiar. I stopped at the end of the row and waited for them to go inside. Then I drove over to where I’d spotted them. I pulled up behind the car and read the personalized license plate: kttykat.
Well, that explains that, I thought to myself. Marty did have a mystery woman. But why the mystery? And why did she look so familiar from the back? I sat there staring at the name, reading it over and over. I knew I’d heard that somewhere before, and it wasn’t only Guy’s mention of the emails. It was something else. KittyKat. What kind of a woman calls herself that, let alone advertises it to the world? Not only that, but what kind of a girl would date Marty? She’d have to be pretty desperate, or maybe she wanted something from him. Son of a bitch!
Chapter 25
That night I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours. Because every time I closed my eyes to fall asleep, all I could see was Lizette’s tacky ass walking away from me at the gym that day, with Kitty Kat scrawled across her cheeks. It had to be she that Marty was seeing, and there was only one explanation for it.
I also couldn’t stop thinking about Guy. I wondered what he must have thought of me. If he had any feelings for me at all, I obliterated them Friday night. I finally fell into a half-sleep, staring at the clock only every other hour instead of every hour. I awoke before the alarm, and again my thoughts went to Guy. I wanted to run and hide. To bury myself away from his disappointed eyes. Yet what I truly needed more than anything was to see him one more time. To look him in the eyes and see his eyes looking back at me. What would they say? Could I risk the humiliation?
As much as I wanted to avoid the public humiliation of showing my face at the office, now I had no choice. I needed to tell Bill that Marty had taken up with Lizette, and who knows what he might have given her. Then I’d do what I went there on Sunday to do: clean out my office and start looking for my new life. But before I left, I’d have to face Jayne and do my best to avoid running into Guy. Maybe I owed him an apology too, but an email after a few weeks would work much better for my ego.
I arrived early enough that the office wouldn’t be at maximum capacity. Bill would be there getting ready for the Monday staff meeting, so
I headed straight to his office. As I approached, I slowed my pace and watched him reading something on his computer. My heart pounded, and I felt something more than fear. Sadness poured over me at the thought of losing Bill in my life. I stopped outside his door and waited. After a moment, he noticed me and waved me in. I felt like a kid being called into the principal’s office, and I stood before him waiting for the hammer to fall.
He kept his attention on the screen for what seemed like an eternity. After a sigh and a head shake, he finally turned to me and said, “So, you ready to tell me what the hell’s going on with you?”
“Actually, not just yet.” I closed the door behind me and took a seat.
“What?”
“I will explain everything, but first I have something important to tell you.”
He leaned back and folded his arms, fixed his stare on me over the glasses that perched halfway down his nose. “I’m listening.”
I threw a quick glance over my shoulder. “There’s something you need to know about Marty.”
“Marty?” I read the skepticism drawn on his face. He thought I was stalling, or trying to point fingers in a different direction. “What does he have to do with you and what happened Friday night?”
“Nothing. But, I came here yesterday to clean out my office and—”
“You cleaned out your office?”
“Well, no. I didn’t get that far. See, I was in the parking lot, and I saw Marty get in a car with someone and leave.”
“So?” With his patience worn thin, he grabbed a pen from the desk and started tapping it against his palm.
“I followed them to see who it was.”
“And?”
“It was Lizette.” This story sounded much more sinister in my head last night.
I watched as he stared at the tapping pen, wheels turning on what I’d just said.
“Bill, Marty has been seeing Lizette. That can only mean one thing.”
The tapping stopped, he leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. I wanted to tell him about the emails, but I decided against it. That would mean that Guy had failed to catch it. One of the reasons he was brought on in the first place was to keep an eye on suspicious activity. Bill should have known someone as trusting and good-natured as Guy couldn’t be a watchdog.
“I don’t know, Emma. Marty and Lizette?”
I could tell the idea hadn’t been tossed aside yet, but I was getting a little worried he wasn’t taking me seriously. I couldn’t exactly pull out the “Bill, trust me” card. I began to fidget in my seat. I grabbed the bottom of the chair in case my body got any ideas about pulling another disappearing act.
“Still,” Bill said popping out of his chair. “We can’t take any chances with the new issue coming.” He paced behind his desk, stopped to look out the window. The sagging skin on his face tightened and cinched. He took a deep breath and held it. “Goddammit! If that little weasel is selling us out!”
Bingo! That was what I was looking for. “What are you going to do?”
“If you’re right—and we can prove it—I’ll fire his ass.”
Somehow those words weren’t as comforting as I’d thought. I’d done the right thing, but now I’d put Bill on a rampage. He might as well clean house if he was in the firing mood.
“Bill, I’m really sorry about all this. I know it’s a lot to have to deal with.”
“Are we still talking about Marty? Or you?”
I shrugged an apology and tried to remember my speech. But Bill didn’t deserve one of my pre-planned monologues. “Bill, I—”
“You know the worst part about this whole damn thing?”
I shook my head like a child refusing her veggies.
“Eleanor was very upset.”
“I’m sure you both were … and I’m very sorry.”
Bill got back in his chair, scooted in, and rested his elbows on the desk. “Just tell me from the beginning.”
“Okay.” I let out a cleansing breath and readied myself to lay it all out there. “There’s not that much to tell. Howard and I have been roommates since college. We’d both been struggling to find decent jobs in this crap-ass economy, especially here in SoCal.”
He tilted his head as if to say get on with it.
“So anyway, I’d had enough of the three Rs and just wanted something close to what I went to school for.”
“The three Rs?” He narrowed his brows.
“Retail, restaurant, receptionist. Then I decided to get serious. I set up interviews with every newspaper and magazine that would consider me. By the time I got to my New You interview, I’d been turned down more times than the sheets in Snookie’s hotel room.”
“So you’re saying you were desperate?”
“It wasn’t only that. When we spoke that day, you told me the only thing available was the “Newlywed News” column. Howard and I had already done the pretend couple thing before—we were actually getting pretty good at it—so the story came so easily. ”
“You two pretended to be married before?”
“No, just dating, but that’s another story. But Howard had been struggling career-wise himself. When I came home and told him what I’d done, he started to think it could help us both. He had an interview set up for a sales rep position at a sportswear company, and he thought being married might make him more marketable. You know, as a guy’s guy?”
“Instead of being gay, you mean?”
“Right.”
He fought against a smile and let out a breath instead. “That must have been a bitch when I insisted on featuring your wedding photos.”
“Not only frustrating, but hideously embarrassing.”
He still wouldn’t let himself smile, and I didn’t blame him. It wouldn’t make things any easier when it came time to fire me. Instead, he turned more serious. “How long did you too think you could keep up that lie? And what about having a real life?”
“We agreed on two years.”
His face tightened in surprise.
“I know. Then we’d have a pretend divorce.”
“You’ve been here longer than three years, Emma. That’s more than a year past.” He seemed exasperated that we continued the lie for so long.
“Yes.” This was the part I had been hoping to avoid. How two years somehow stretched into three. How both of us seemed to avoid talking about it for months at a time, until recently when I noticed Howard dropping hints. I also didn’t want to get into all the reasons I wasn’t in a real relationship.
“I can’t explain it when I don’t fully understand myself. And it’s … not so easy to find someone when you’re supposed to be married. I guess we both relied too much on each other and the safety of our relationship.” Bill knew me and my history well enough. He didn’t need me to go into a full-blown psych session.
“Okay, I get it. But you could have come to me anytime and told the truth. What the hell were you waiting for?”
I wasn’t sure I knew the answer to that question. “Aside from being ashamed and embarrassed? I’m not sure. It may be hard for you to understand this, but I think part of me was afraid of being without Howard. Of being alone.”
A glimpse of compassion entered his eyes, but he said nothing.
“I know it sounds pathetic, but it’s all I can offer right now. Maybe with the extra time I’ll have on my hands I can come up with something more.” I stood from my chair, deciding the conversation was over. I didn’t have the energy to find out if I was fired or if he’d let me quit. He could tell me when he was ready.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I walked to the door feeling weary. “I don’t know what more I can tell you except I’m sorry. I’ll call Eleanor and tell her the same, if she’ll talk to me.”
“Of course she’ll talk to you, Emma. I only said she was upset. She gets upset with me every day, and I’m still around.” Bill pulled his glasses off and set then on the desk. Then he rose from his seat and joined me at the door.
“I’ll make myself available to anyone who has questions, and if you need anything in this transition, just let me know.” I opened his door, relieved that no one was around.
“Emma,” he said taking hold of my elbow. “You’re not going anywhere.” He shut the door and stood before me, eyes trained on mine. “You don’t have to leave, unless that’s what you want.”
“Are you kidding me?” I tried to contain my excitement. I couldn’t let myself believe it yet. “Of course I don’t want to leave.” I peered through his window out to the office. I noticed Jayne had just entered her office and turned the light on. “I’m not sure I deserve a second chance. I mean, you’re not giving Marty one.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “You really think that’s the same thing? You may have lied to get into this company, but since that day—” He paused, waiting for me to pull my attention back to him. “Dammit, Emma, you’ve worked your ass off here. You’ve dedicated every waking moment to this place.”
I let my gaze fall to my shoes, hoping he’d finish with the compliments I didn’t deserve, especially now.
“You know, when I got my first job over at The Sentinel, I told them I wrote for my local paper back in Chicago.”
I forgot about the shoes, since Bill practically never talked about himself.
“And did you?”
“Hell, no. I took the calls for the classified section. So, yeah, technically I wrote a few garage sale ads.”
We both chuckled, but I quickly reined it in. I wasn’t sure I could accept this gift.
“You really think that’s the same thing?” I said, echoing his early comment.
“No, it’s not.” He went back to his desk, pushed his glasses back on. “But, to be honest, I’ve grown accustomed to having things a certain way around here. I’ve come to rely on my right-hand woman. And I can’t go back to the way things were before you came here.” He turned to his computer and began typing.
The Tech Guy Page 19