“403, 404. There are 404 tacks. Oh, hi, Craig,” I added.
“Well done this morning, Jessie.”
“Thanks.” I moved on to a pile of paperclips. By the ninth one, he twitched with impatience. The fifteenth undid him. He broke.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Counting.”
I could almost hear his teeth grinding.
“Right. And why?”
“We need to verify how many office supplies our team has borrowed from the closet. You supported us in our payroll audit, and now we want to support you.”
Craig was no dummy. He knew our “support” meant bad news for him. “That’s great.” He watched for another minute, trying to figure out my game plan, but he couldn’t make anything of the counting. Mike droned on behind me over a pile of pencils, “Twenty-three, twenty-four . . .”
“So what form is this help going to take?”
“I heard you’re concerned with the numbers from your supply audit. Something about a log book not getting filled out? I felt bad, so I put my whole team on figuring out exactly what we’ve used in the last two months. We’re going to present our findings to Dennis for you, and he can see how much time we invested for you in counting everything. Again. Because we believe in returning favors.”
Katie snorted and tried to hide it with a cough, but Craig’s face darkened. We had him up against a wall, and he knew it. He already looked bad for spending hours on the office supply audit, and this would make him look worse.
“That’s incredible you would do that, Jessie. Incredible,” he said, smiling. “But it turns out that we’ve been able to resolve the log sheet discrepancies. Our office supplies are at normal levels, so I’m sure there’s no need to worry.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I agreed. “Could you send Brad over? We lost some time on this, and I’d love to get caught back up. Might as well start his three days now.”
He clenched his jaw in irritation. “I’ll send him. Happy to do it. I’m sure he’ll only be a time suck though.”
“I’ll risk it. Thanks, Craig.” I watched with satisfaction as he walked away.
Katie turned to me wide-eyed. “Wow, we have 404 thumbtacks?”
“I have no idea. I made it up.”
“Oh man,” Mike said. “I only made up twenty-seven pencils.”
“That’s why I’m the boss,” I said, grinning. I swept my supplies up and headed back toward my own desk. “Pizza’s on Katie next time,” I called over my shoulder. Pizza was the traditional bribe when our team had to stay late.
My ploy had only taken a half hour, but I didn’t have an extra thirty minutes lying around, especially when I looked at the backlog of work on my desk. Even with Craig’s team now helping on the payroll project, it would only get worse. Not only would I have to bust my tail to get it done by the deadline, but I would also have to work harder to make sure we outpaced Craig.
To make sure I outpaced Craig, if I were being honest with myself. This wasn’t my team’s fight, although they would follow me wherever I went. Pizza and working beside them had bought me a lot of good will. But they didn’t care about beating Craig. Only I did. It was that hating to be pushed thing. I’d gotten so used to being the best at things that it’d become a bad habit.
I shoved away the stack of papers in front of me in frustration. This wasn’t how I wanted to invest all my energy. Sandy’s lectures on work/life balance occupied an annoying chunk of my mental real estate lately. Maybe she’d made some good points. Okay, she had. I would give Ben more of my time, but I wouldn’t be taking the Sandy Burke approach of throwing myself into a sizzle-then-fizzle romance.
Throwing myself into exploring things with Ben? No way. All or nothing had failed me with Jason, and I had learned from my mistakes. Time to try the middle ground. I’d eaten one lunch with Ben. That didn’t equal a relationship. I had no reason to neglect my job for something that might not pan out. As long as I stayed open to dating, like I promised Sandy, I could find the balance between excelling at work and having a bit of romance on the side.
Right?
I straightened up and grabbed for the papers I’d pushed away. Right. I could do this. Let Ben set the pace, and I would follow. I had work to do.
Chapter 10
“RING, STUPID PHONE, RING!”
I shifted my laptop so I could watch Sandy. She stood, hands on hips, glaring at her cell phone lying on the counter. Sandy pleading for a phone call instead of ducking one? This was new. She tapped a manicured nail on the counter next to the phone. French tip, of course.
“Does that work?” I asked.
“The phone?”
“No, yelling at it. I’ve never thought of that.”
She didn’t answer. Instead she came to fling herself onto the sofa next to me. “He hasn’t called,” she grumbled.
“Who?”
“The Brad Pitt look-alike from The Factory. It’s been a week, and nothing.”
“That’s a first. Maybe he lost your number,” I suggested.
“Fat chance. I typed it directly into his cell phone.”
“Maybe he lost his cell phone.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t want to call me.” Good old Sandy, the angry pragmatist.
“We should burn your cell phone to help you move past it,” I said.
She ignored me. “I don’t get it,” she said instead. “I thought we had a connection. I’m hot, he’s hot. What’s the problem?”
“Sitting around being hot for hours at a time might get old. Did you talk?”
“Yes, we talked.” She pouted for another minute. “That’s what’s bugging me. We talked all night. About sports and work and movies and music. No awkward pauses where I had to redirect his eyes above my chest. He was smart; I was funny; it flowed. So why wouldn’t he call?”
That did seem odd. I’d never known anyone to resist Sandy’s charm once she set her sights on him. She left a slew of broken hearts and busted egos in her wake, but she never intentionally acted cruel. I could tell from her face she had figured out that careless could sting too.
I tried to think of a way to comfort her. “There are a million good reasons he might not have called.”
“Name one,” she challenged me.
“He broke his dialing thumb.” That earned a reluctant smile. I tried another one. “You accidentally typed in the wrong number, and he’s been calling an insurance office day and night asking for you.” Another smile. “Or probably, he’s an idiot,” I concluded.
“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner,” she said.
“I’ll get the chocolate,” I replied.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.” She listlessly waved me away from the kitchen.
“I know. I just want chocolate.” I headed into the kitchen but stopped short as a cell phone shrilled. Mine, not Sandy’s. I refrained from diving for it but barely. I fished it out of my purse, which hung from the back of a dining room chair. Yes! It was Ben.
I mean, cool. It was Ben.
“Hello?” I said. Totally cool.
“Hi, Jessie. You busy?” Ben asked.
“No. What’s going on?” I settled back onto the sofa, his voice sending a charge up my spine.
“So I know I said I would call to set up a date for tomorrow, but I changed my mind.”
“You’re calling to tell me you’re not going to call me?” I teased.
He laughed his warm, delicious laugh. “No, I mean I changed my mind about waiting until tomorrow to see you. I had a great time at lunch yesterday so I thought maybe we could do dinner tonight.”
I almost said yes. Almost. But instead I said, “I’m so sorry; I can’t go out tonight.”
Sandy waved her arms frantically, trying to get my attention. “Liar!” she mouthed. I gestured for her to knock it off.
“Oh.” Ben sighed. “I guess it’s bad manners to call a girl on a Friday night and assume she’s free, isn’t it?”
&n
bsp; “It’s not that. Trust me. I’ve got nothing exciting going on. Just work.”
“You’re still there?” He sounded surprised.
“No, but I brought a bunch home with me. I hate making people put in overtime on the weekend, so I’m trying to get some stuff done on my own.”
“I see,” Ben said. He sounded subdued.
“But hey, does the offer stand for tomorrow?”
“Of course. I’m thinking midafternoon, before it gets dark. Sound okay?”
“Sounds great.” I gave him my address and confirmed the time. When I hung up, I turned around to find Sandy staring at me, her arms crossed in irritation.
“How is that fair?” she asked. “I beg the cell phone idols for a call, and nothing.”
“False idols?” I guessed. “I hear Motorola is pretty fickle.”
“Ha ha.” She changed the subject. “That was Ben.”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you turning him down?”
“I have a lot of work to do. I’ll see him tomorrow.”
“What’s wrong with seeing him today and tomorrow?”
“I’ll work tonight, go out tomorrow. It’s called balance.”
“Working at six thirty from home on a Friday night is not balance!”
“Spending too much time with Ben isn’t balance either,” I answered.
“I’m going to drop this only because you’re going out tomorrow. But I know where to find your Häagen-Dazs.”
“It’s a small freezer. I’m not impressed.”
I turned back to my laptop, and Sandy retrieved her cell phone then tapped it against the countertop.
After a minute, I burst out, “Stop.”
“What? Oh,” she said, looking down at her bouncing cell phone. “I need something to take my mind off of this. I want to talk about your date. Where’s he taking you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Aren’t you worried?”
“Why would I be? He’s pretty normal.”
“I mean, aren’t you worried about how to plan? If you don’t know where you’re going, you can’t figure out how to dress. That doesn’t concern you?”
I set my laptop aside. “It didn’t. It does now.”
“A movie matinee and mountain biking require totally different outfits. You should think about that.”
I leaned my head back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling forlornly. “Why didn’t I ask him? I’m an idiot.”
“It’s a good excuse to call him back now.”
“I don’t want him to think I’m obsessing about my outfits.”
“Even though you are?”
“Especially because I am.”
“Okay, we’ll figure it out. For an outdoor activity, he’d have to warn you so you could grab the proper gear, like hiking boots or running shoes, so I think you can rule that out.”
“Oh, good. That leaves the theater, a picnic, bowling, or a million other possibilities I don’t know how to dress for. Maybe I’ll wear about twelve layers and peel off all the ones that don’t fit the activity.”
“Good plan. But he might think you’re doing a weird striptease. Bad on any date, super bad on a Mormon date.”
“True. Which means I don’t have a plan again.”
“Hmm. Middle of the afternoon implies casual, so don’t worry about the theater or anything like that. Unless he takes you to a museum or something.” She blew a bit of hair out of her eyes. “This is hard. Didn’t he give you any kind of hint?”
“At lunch, he said something about a baseball game, but that’s about it.”
“There’s no baseball in January,” she protested.
“That’s what I said.”
“Still, it’s the only clue you’ve got. Come on. Let’s hit your closet. I’ve got an idea.”
Chapter 11
TWO DIFFERENT JACKETS LAY ON the bed, and two pairs of shoes sat by the front door. Watching Sandy stage everything the night before reminded me of what a diabolical genius she could be.
“It’s all in the delivery,” she explained.
“I thought that was babies and jokes,” I replied.
“And mystery dates without a dress code. You open the door, say hi, and figure out if he’s dressed for casual or nice.”
“He’s going to think I’m checking him out!”
“Won’t you be?”
“Yes, but I don’t want him to know.”
“Chicken,” she teased. “It’ll only take a glance anyway. He’ll never catch on. When you know which outfit you need, you tell him to hang on while you get your coat. You come grab the jacket from the bed. Then you slip on the right pair of shoes at the front door, and you’re out of here like that’s the outfit you planned to wear all along.”
“This is why you’re my hero,” I said.
“It’s not world peace, but at least you don’t have to stress anymore.”
I looked at the time. I had this cool original modular clock from the 1950s that my grandma gave me when she cleaned out her basement. I watched the second hand creeping around the face of it, each tick measuring off what felt like an hour. After a full minute of willing it to move faster, I gave up and headed for my mirror to check my reflection. Again. Ben wasn’t due for another ten minutes anyway.
Hair down and loose around my shoulders. Freckles hiding under a dusting of mineral powder. Subtle eye shadow. And, of course, lip gloss. Passable, I guess.
Sandy watched me study my reflection. “You look good.”
“Thanks.”
She had loaned me her Hudson jeans. When I saw how good they looked, I had to promise not to make fun of her for spending that much on denim in the future so she’d let me wear them. The dark wash complemented my gray sweater. It wasn’t expensive or anything, but the slim cut and merino wool made it easy to dress up or down. If it looked like a casual afternoon, I would grab Sandy’s trendy puffy vest that fit like a glove and throw on Converse on the way out. If Ben showed up dressed to prowl art galleries and debate foreign policy, I would grab my own black leather blazer and slip on some high heeled ankle boots instead.
Sandy stretched and yawned. “I’m worn out from your outfit intervention. I want to take a nap. When’s he getting here?”
“You’re not meeting him,” I protested.
“Why not? I deserve at least that much after being your personal date stylist.”
“I don’t want him to feel all ganged up on.”
“I’m sure Benny-boy can handle himself. I’ll be cool, I swear.”
I relented after delivering a threat. “You crack one joke, and I will kill you slowly.”
“I’ll be good.”
When the doorbell rang, I was fastening in some delicate silver drop earrings. My stomach lurched, and I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. Get it together, girl. Sandy raced to the sofa and thumbed through a magazine, feigning boredom. I padded out to the front door in my black socks and checked the eye hole. Ben stood there in a blue sweater and jeans. Casual, then. I slipped on my Chucks and opened the door.
“Hi,” I said, trying not to sound as dippy as I felt. I stepped aside to let him in.
“Hi back,” he answered. He took an interested glance around the room. “I like your place. Have you lived here long?”
“About a year,” I answered.
“It’s hard to find something in this neighborhood. How’d you luck out?”
“I have a realtor in my ward who gave me the scoop before it came on the market.”
“You own it? Nice.”
“It seemed better than paying rent.”
“Definitely. And you get to pick the colors,” he smiled.
Time to make the introductions. “Ben, this is my roommate Sandy. Sandy, this is Ben.” I watched his reaction curiously. Even though Sandy had pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and wore jeans and a baggy T-shirt, she still looked gorgeous.
He moved to shake her hand politely, but his face showed nothing more
than well-bred courtesy. “So you’re the one who’s into identity theft,” Ben nodded, the teasing note clear in his voice. “Nice to meet you, Sandy.”
Sandy looked ready to fire back a snappy retort, but at my warning glare, she said only, “Nice to meet you, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ben grinned. “Too bad. I thought I owed you a thank you for putting Jessie’s info on Lookup.”
“I would never do something like that, but whoever did sure must be an awesome and amazing friend to Jessie,” Sandy said.
“Must be,” he agreed. I rolled my eyes.
“Would you like to sit for a second while I grab my jacket?” I asked. He wandered over to my fireplace mantle instead.
“Do you mind if I sneak a peek at your pictures while I wait?” he asked.
“Not at all. I don’t keep the embarrassing ones in the living room anyway.”
He laughed, and I went to retrieve Sandy’s vest from my bed. It took a talented designer to turn puffy down and nylon into something chic, but leave it to my roommate to find the one who could. I slipped it on and returned to find Ben where I’d left him, standing in front of the fireplace. Sandy leafed through her magazine and studied him from the corner of her eye.
He turned when I walked in and lifted a quizzical eyebrow at me. He held up my graffiti rock in his hand and read aloud, “‘This is just a rock.’ I’m guessing there’s a story here?”
I shrugged. “Not anymore.”
“That’s all I get?” he asked.
“That’s all you get.”
“Fair enough. Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.”
I locked the door behind us and managed to block his view of Sandy’s huge grin and thumbs up gesture before it clicked closed, then I followed him to his car. I half expected a massive lumberjack pickup truck, but instead, he opened the passenger side of an Acura sedan. Sensible and stylish. My, my, my. When he got in and started it, music filled the interior. An old White Stripes song blared out. So he liked his rock and roll loud. That went in the plus column too.
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