As he approached, Jackie perked up, folded her hands on the table. “Hi, Greg!”
She beamed, and I wanted to throw up.
“What brings you here?” Jackie asked.
I sat up straight, my lips pursed, ignoring his existence while I picked up a nacho.
“I come here sometimes after work,” he said. “I had planned to come with a buddy of mine, but he canceled on me at the last minute.”
“Ah, that’s no fun,” Jackie said.
Do not invite him to sit with us, I thought. Do not invite him to sit with us. Do not—
“Would you care to join us?” Jackie asked. “We’re gossiping and having a few drinks.”
Damn it, Jackie!
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look into Greg’s eyes. “I’m sure you have other business to attend to, like hitting on some poor innocent girl you never intend to call back or drink until you black out.”
“Well, I wouldn’t drink that much on a Tuesday.” He chuckled deep in his throat. “But I wouldn’t be against getting to bring a beautiful woman back to my apartment. You want to volunteer?” His bright blue eyes danced with mischief.
Jackie laughed. “Oh, Greg. Don’t be such a tease.”
I stuck my finger in my mouth, pretending to gag. “I’d rather kiss a pig. Oh, wait, you would still qualify then. Never mind.”
Greg slid into the seat beside Jackie and she shuffled over closer on my side.
“Don’t be so rude,” she scolded in her motherly voice. “He was joking. Right, Greg?”
“Of course I’m joking. I like to see Staci all fired up. I’m not her type anyhow,” he said to Jackie like I wasn’t even there.
“Oh, you’ve got that right,” I said as he flashed me a blank face.
“You are handsome though,” Jackie said.
I regurgitated a little in my mouth.
“Thank you,” he said, loosening his tie.
He grabbed one of my nachos, and it took everything in me not to slap it out of his hand.
“I rarely listen to what she says,” he said, crunching into the chip.
I watched his jaw move up and down, balling my fists. Everything about this man annoyed me.
“I don’t like to bring negativity in my life,” Greg continued. “It creates bad mojo around me.” He made a circling motion with his hands as if he were some spiritual monk.
“Positivity is the way to go,” Jackie said, nudging me with her foot under the table.
I blew out a shaky breath. “Fine, I won’t say another word,” I said, raising my chin.
“Why do you hate me so much?” he said before he took a big gulp of beer.
“You know why,” I whispered.
He opened his mouth to speak but then took another sip. Shrugging his shoulders, he slid out of the booth. “I don’t want to create any more tension here, so I’ll leave you to your ladies’ night.” With that, he walked off, taking his dark energy with him.
“What is your problem?” Jackie hissed when he was out of earshot. “He was a perfect gentleman, and you blew him off. He’s technically a coworker, you know. I’ve never seen you mistreat anyone before, not even the shoe salesman who forgot to order the correct size for you. Staci, you’re a wonderful person, but around him, you’re kind of a …”
“Jerk?” I added flatly.
“That’s your word,” she blurted. “Why do you hate Greg? You’ve never told me the whole story. I can see in your eyes something’s eating at you.”
I finished my wine, slamming the glass on the table. Rising, I slung my purse’s strap over my shoulder after dropping cash on the table. “I told you,” I mumbled, “Greg plays with women’s hearts, and he’s the most arrogant man I’ve ever met. He’s a horrible guy, yet everyone seems to love him. I don’t get it.”
“Is that everything?” she asked, standing beside me, looking over at him.
“Yes,” I said after a pause. “The whole story,” I lied, but it’s the only thing I was ready to disclose.
Linking my arm with hers, I led her out of the bar, bumping Greg’s stool on the way. Without looking at her, I knew Jackie had shot me a look to behave. I couldn’t help it. Greg brought out a monster in me I couldn’t control, not that I wanted to.
Women give out signs all the time, and it’s important to understand them. If a woman has her arms crossed and her body is leaning away, then she is trying to stop you from getting to know her. Take the hint and back off, especially if she’s looking at you like she has daggers in her eyes. Run! You don’t want to mess with a woman’s fury.
“How to Decode Nonverbal Signals from Women”
by Greg McAdams
2
Staci
“No, Elena, I’m not letting you sneak a cat into our apartment building. Do you know how much sweet-talking I had to do to get a good deal on our place? If Mr. Arturo finds out I broke the rules, he’ll hike up the rent for sure,” I said, taking a sip from my coffee mug as I watched her cradle a fluff ball in her arms.
“But I found him on the fire escape. He’s so cute,” Elena whined. “How can you say no to him?”
“Easy. No. We’re not keeping it, and besides, he’s too clean to be a stray cat. He probably belongs to someone.”
My sister, Elena, was a part-time model studying to be … I wasn’t sure anymore since she kept changing her major.
“There’s no tag on his collar,” Elena said.
“How do you know it’s a he?”
“Trust me.” She slightly lifted him.
“You should become a veterinarian since you keep bringing these animals home,” I said.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Are we really going to put him back on the street? It’s cold outside.”
As she brought the feline closer, I diverted my eyes to our front door. She knew my weakness. All it took was to look into the cat’s big eyes—it did me in.
I sighed. “It’s summer. He’ll be just fine. If it concerns you that much, just bring him to an animal shelter because I’m not losing this apartment.”
We hadn’t known when we first rented this place that there was an Italian restaurant located below our apartment with an outdoor seating until two thirty in the morning. At first, I was worried we might have to look for another place. Soon though, I’d discovered the sound of happy laughter coming from outside my window had a positive, curative effect for the aftermath of a broken heart.
“How will Mr. Arturo find out?”
“Mrs. Shaw from across the hall is allergic to cats—that’s how.”
When I saw the disappointment in her eyes, my stomach took a dip. So I’d lied. I couldn’t afford this apartment as it was, and we were three. We had been lucky enough to find another roommate who was barely around.
I looked down at my watch. “Shoot, I’m running late.” I picked up my purse, headed for the door. “Oh, Elena, stop feeding cats on the fire escape!” I shouted before rushing out the door.
* * *
I arrived at work just in time to find my nemesis inside the elevator when I rushed to get in. The universe had some sense of humor, repeatedly confining me in tight spaces with Greg McAdams.
“Good morning, Greg,” I said through gritted teeth.
After the bar, I’d had a conversation with Jackie, and she’d made me promise to apologize to him.
When I looked at his face, my throat was already closing up. I had to keep my word though even if it killed me, which it might.
“Morning,” he said kindly, which pissed me off.
“I’m …”
He turned, fixing the cuffs of his dress shirt. “Did you say something?”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking away from him.
“Come again?”
“I’m sorry!” I huffed, crossing my arms. “Last night, I was rude. I guess you didn’t deserve that.”
Greg deserved worse, but I had made a promise to Jackie that I would try to behave, at least for today. I looked at him out of
the corner of my eye and saw him smiling.
“Wow, who are you? What have you done to my Staci?” he said, walking closer, backing me into the corner. What was that fragrance? That warm, woodsy scent?
Awful.
“That’s okay,” he said, gazing down at me. “I assumed you were having a bad day. No harm done.”
I apologized for nothing, Jackie!
“So,” I said, biting my lip. “Did you go home with anyone last night?”
“Actually, I did. The cute bartender practically threw herself at me. We had a wild night. I’ll spare your innocence by not going into detail.”
“Lucky me,” I said with an eye roll.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
The doors opened, and I pushed Greg out of the way, stomping into the hallway to get to the office. Jackie saw me, giving me a stern expression as she waved me over. I didn’t have the opportunity to reach her because Mr. McAdams Senior stepped in front of me.
He wore a brown suit, black loafers, and silver-framed glasses. His eyes were blue with a glimmer of happiness in them that he liked to keep hidden. The hair on his head was grey, disappearing. Then I thought about Greg. In thirty-four years, he would have the same hairline as his father. Knowing this gave me so much pleasure.
“Cortés,” he said firmly, “my office now.” Turning around, he walked to the room.
I shot Jackie a look of confusion, and she shrugged.
I entered his office, closing the door behind me. The room was minimalist, with a clean desk which had a laptop and a nameplate on it, with a few framed degrees hung on the wall. The view of the surrounding buildings coming through the window in front of me wasn’t dull.
Sitting in the chair across from him, I tried to mimic his stony gaze. “What can I help you with, Mr. McAdams?”
“I have a job offer for you,” he said curtly.
I sat up straighter, crossing my ankles over one another. “A job offer? You sure get right to the point, huh?” Here I’d thought I was getting fired.
“You know I don’t believe in jibber-jabber,” he said. “My associate wanted me to expand our magazine with a purely online sister magazine called … According to Staci and Greg. It’ll revolve around perspectives from men and women, how they view the world in different ways. It’ll show each side of the relationship, outlining common miscommunications that come from it. Of course, you can explore many avenues with this topic, but that will be your starting point.”
“When you say explore many avenues —”
“Here at Nast Publishing, our articles only pertain to relationships, sex, careers, self-improvement, celebrities, fashion, and beauty. If you stick to those parameters, we are good, Miss Cortés.”
“And when you say associate, what do you mean by that?”
“My son.”
“Greg?” I asked.
“No, Jamie.”
For the love of God, there’s another one?
“My son Greg wants no part in running the company. He seems happy in being a writer.” He spat out the word writer like it was beneath him.
Mr. McAdams stared at me; the awkward silence told me it was my turn to talk.
“Wow, this sounds like a great opportunity, but this magazine ... it’s exactly what I’m already doing.” I cleared my throat to flush out the sarcasm and tried again. “So, what does this mean? Am I getting my own magazine?”
“You’ll be in charge of writing articles for our biweekly issues while running a discussion forum for men and women asking advice. You’ll also respond to any comments or questions related to the issues you produce. I’ll have final say, and Kate will overlook things, but, yes, you’ll have full control of the creativity. This magazine is supposed to be active with reader connections. Seeing as you’re single and in the know with today’s challenges of dating in a big city, I thought you’d be the perfect fit.”
Who knew being single would be an asset? I’d thought he was promoting me based on my writing skills. Either way, it still was a good thing. At least I wasn’t getting fired.
“Thank you, Mr. McAdams,” I said, almost breathless. “This is a lot more responsibility, which is exactly what I’ve been looking for.” I stood, shaking his hand, eager to get started. “Will I get paid more for this?” I asked.
“I have to discuss it with Jamie, and of course, Kate will fill you in during the next couple of days.”
In other words, I wouldn’t be getting paid much more than I already was.
Then, a thought crossed my mind, and I slowly sank back into the seat. “If there will be both men and women perspectives … I’ll be working with Greg on this?”
“Yes, Greg McAdams, my son,” he said.
Oh, joy.
Of course, the whole According to Staci and Greg should have been self-explanatory, but I was so worried about being let go that it didn’t faze me. Oh, but it was fazing me now. Was. It. Ever.
“You’ll co-write every issue with Greg, working in the small conference room across the hall. It’s a good idea to run a blog of your own as well to pump out the articles, to get readers sucked into the website …”
Mr. McAdams droned on about his ideas for the magazine while I sat there, speechless, running Greg’s name through my mind, and my muscles cramped.
How on earth will I be able to work with that man? Does Greg know?
It jolted me back to reality when Mr. McAdams Senior yelled out my name.
Shaking my head, I said, “With all due respect, Mr. McAdams, I know he’s your son, but I don’t think Greg has anything of value to contribute on the topic of relationships and dating.”
“Nonsense,” he said, tapping his fingers on the desk. “He’s the top columnist at Avant-Garde, so it only fits that you two work together. I want you to go over there right now and introduce yourself. Get started on a full proposal for the magazine while the IT department finishes up the final designs for the site. I’ll need at least thirty short blog posts, spread out throughout the next few weeks, including the weekend, but only in the beginning to increase readership. Go now! We can’t have bored readers for a site that hasn’t started yet. Get out of my office!”
My knees shook as I stumbled out of the room. When I got to my cubicle, I collapsed in my chair.
“What’s wrong?” Jackie asked. “You look pale, which is saying a lot, considering your flawless tan skin. Puerto Ricans are lucky. My skin is so pasty,” she said, studying herself in a compact mirror.
I was also half-Cuban, but I didn’t have time to get into that.
“Jackie,” I huffed, “I got a new job.”
“That’s great!” she squealed, clapping her hands.
“It’s with Greg.”
Jackie frowned as she crouched next to me, placing a hand on mine. “Does it mean we won’t work together anymore?”
We usually did our brainstorming together, and sometimes, Jackie used me as her guinea pig to test out products for her research, which was always fun, except for the last time. I’d gotten a rash using anti-aging cream, but I still took one for the team. Anything for Jackie.
“I’ll still be around,” I said, swallowing hard, realizing I was taking on more than I was capable of handling. “But much of my time will be spent with Greg while we get the online magazine off the ground. I’m supposed to go over there now.” I stared at the door across the hall.
Jackie turned my gaze back to her, pinching my chin. “This is your job,” she said, and I knew I’d be getting a lecture. “You’re going to march in there—so swallow your pride. I don’t care if you don’t like Greg, but you will work with him to make the best damn magazine in the world!”
“But, Jackie—”
“No,” she said, dragging me out of my seat, pushing me towards the door. “March, young lady.”
I took a few hesitant steps before looking over my shoulder. Jackie stood behind me with her hands on her hips.
“No wonder your kids are so mood
y,” I huffed before making my way to the entrance.
Across the hall, I looked through the glass door into the Avant-Garde office. It wasn’t much different from Starlet. People were dressed in semi-casual wear, rushing around the room, chatting with coffee in their hands. They clustered in their cliques like a bunch of high school girls. Deep chuckles echoed through the office.
As I gripped the handle of the glass door, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. With one quick movement, I swung the door open and stomped through the office like I owned the place. Or would have, but I tripped over the carpet in front of the receptionist’s desk. With whatever dignity I had left, I stood up and smiled at Debbie, the receptionist. Thank God no one else was around, like Greg.
When I entered the conference room without another hitch, I slapped my notebook on the table after closing the blinds, then waited in the office chair.
A short second later, Greg came in with two cups of coffee. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you. Jackie told me you were in here waiting.” He placed a paper cup in front of me. “You drink coffee, right?” If he knew me better, he would know I didn’t, but I guessed I should give him some credit. Greg didn’t remember me. Then again, I looked different from the last time I’d seen him, which was six years ago.
I slouched deeper into my chair, crossing my arms.
“I guess that’s your way of telling me you want to get started?” Greg asked.
“Sit down.”
Then, I shook my head as he proceeded to sit next to me. Seeing this, he laughed and went to the seat across from me.
“So, I assume your boss—my father—filled you in on the project we’ll be heading together?”
“Let me get one thing clear,” I said, pushing the coffee away from me. “I am not here by choice. You are a means to an end—to further my career. To produce this magazine, we will work together no more than we have to. Once we’re done getting this off the ground, we will part ways and work in our own offices. We will only coordinate by e-mail. We will not form a professional or personal relationship. Got it?”
The One & Only: The One Lover Series Book 1 Page 2