Her Perfect Man- The Complete Series Box Set

by Z. L. Arkadie

  “About a year.”

  “Do you like it there?”

  I go on to tell him my story about graduating from law school and failing the bar so many times I stopped counting in order to not feel like an idiot.

  “Nice, nice…” he says.

  I notice he’s distracted, so I clap my hands to get his attention. “So I guess dinner’s over.”

  “Really?” Now he’s completely back to reality. “There’s no dessert?” He’s wearing that impish smile again.

  I scratch my cheek. I have a split second to decide whether or not to bring out the cannolis. “No, you know…” I sit back and rub my belly. “I didn’t have time to make the dessert.”

  Jeremy looks at me as if he wants to call bullshit on me, then he flashes a charming smile. “Then how about we hang out for a while—dance or something? Do you have music?”

  I check my watch. “Sorry, it’s late, and I have to wind down. I have a long day tomorrow.”

  Actually, I don’t have a long day tomorrow.

  I stand up, and after a moment, he rises to his feet.

  “Thanks for having dinner with me tonight,” I say.

  His glossy-eyed gaze falls down to my tits again. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

  Once again, he seems distracted, but I don’t care. It’s time for him to leave. There’s something about his energy that doesn’t sit well with me.

  “I’ll get your coat.”

  I begin walking to the door, and I can hear him behind me. Before I make it to the coat tree, his arms wrap me up from behind. His engorged cock presses against the upper part of my lower back.

  “Gina,” he whispers, his mouth close to my ears.

  My dad taught me a lot of things, and one of them was that if a man grabbed me without my permission, I was to act without hesitation. In a flash, I whip myself around, grab him by his strong shoulders, and knee him in the groin.

  Jeremy immediately bends over, moaning, as he cups his hands over his balls.

  “What the hell, you crazy bitch!” he barks, but he’s short on breath, probably because he’s in pain.

  I rush over to grab his coat and open the front door wide. “I never said you could touch me, asshole!”

  “You’re crazy! You’re a fucking crazy bitch.”

  I’m breathing heavily, mad as a bull. How dare he violate me in such a manner? I really want to finish the job and kick his ass. I’m a black belt in karate. I could take him in a New York minute. “No more dates. We’re done. How much does it cost to fix your car?”

  Finally, he forces himself to stand up as straight as he can. “For you, five grand!”

  I throw his coat at him as I laugh facetiously. “There’s no way in hell I’m paying that.”

  “Then your insurance company will pay it.”

  I shake my head. I’m now convinced he is a fucking tool. I feel like suing him for breach of contract, and I just might, but tonight I just want him out of my presence. I hold the door wider. “Get the hell out of my house, or I swear I’ll scream.”

  He sniffs aggressively and clutches his coat. He walks past me closely, and as soon as he stops outside, he turns to face me. “You’re going to regret this.”

  I look him dead in the eyes. “You mess with me, and you will regret it.” I slam the door in his face.

  From behind the door, he shouts, “You fucking cunt!”

  Obviously he has anger issues. Since I’m done with him for now and forever, I take a deep breath to calm myself. What in the hell just happened? My hands are still shaking as I walk to the dining-room table. I pick up Jeremy’s plate. My feet don’t want to move. I’m not yet composed, so I flop down in the chair he abandoned.

  I shake my head. If only he could’ve controlled himself. Since Randy is fraternizing with Chef Deanna Blume, I probably would’ve fucked Jeremy after date number three.

  “What a stupid asshole,” I whisper. He’s ruined what could’ve been a mind-blowing ending to a three-date deal.

  I sniff disdainfully and leap to my feet, feeling a lot better now. I decide I’ll clean the kitchen tomorrow. I decide to have a leftover bran muffin for dessert, along with another glass of wine, and rewatch the last episode of Head Chef Total Domination just to make sure I was right about Randy flirting with that woman, and fall asleep on the couch.

  8

  Yesterday I went for that jog with Naomi and nearly puked my guts out on the track. I think the bran muffin I ate for dessert on Saturday night had gone bad. It had been in my refrigerator for over a week and it tasted funny. I felt better after Naomi and I ate breakfast later.

  Now it’s Monday, and the snow has pretty much melted, and it’s in the fifties. By the end of the week, it’s supposed to be in the sixties. I just love soaking up the warm spring sun and smelling the fresh air. I don’t have a lot of time to be outside, so I just enjoy as much as I can while quickly crossing the long parking lot at school. Soon, everything is going to be getting green again, and I can’t wait. When I arrive at work, I’m not early, but I’m not late either. Things are a bit stressful because we’re short staffed today, but we seem to manage.

  “Why isn’t Sam here today?” I ask Rex in passing.

  He appears agitated. “She needed to take the day off.”

  I shrug and just keep on working, figuring he must be slightly agitated that he’s short staffed.

  I work until closing, head home, and go to bed to start it all over again.

  Day in and day out, the week goes by pretty quickly until on Thursday I find a letter in my mailbox from my insurance company, asking me to call because there has been an accident reported. Apparently, the deal with Jeremy was off when he didn’t get what he wanted.

  “Whatever, douche,” I say, leaving the notice on my kitchen table. In hindsight, I should’ve just filed the claim with insurance instead of entertaining his silly idea. Whoever heard of a guy that would accept three dates without sex as payment for damages to his car?

  When I arrive at work, I hurry in. We’re short on staff again only this time we’re really busy. When there’s a reprieve, I say to Rex, “So I guess it’s getting warmer out and everyone’s got spring fever.” I pass him behind the counter on my way to grabbing a cheese torte for the customer at the register.

  “Huh,” he says.

  I look at him and decide to be a little more direct. “I guess Rita must have gotten a case of spring fever.”

  “Oh.” He chuckles nonchalantly and walks the coffee he was filling to one of the customers.

  While taking an order, I see Jeremy out of the corner of my eye. He can’t be a customer because he’s coming from the back and is walking with Steve, the owner, through the dining area. I try not to look but can’t help staring at the two while preparing a latte.

  They’re now in the parking lot, and Jeremy is shaking his finger under Steve’s nose. I look around to see if anyone else is watching. Rex is busy bussing tables and looks as if he’s paying no attention to them.

  Steve’s arms start waving frantically in the air.

  I set the latte on the counter and walk to the pastry case for the customer’s muffin.

  Now, the two are practically nose to nose.

  I ring the sale, and Steve comes back into the café without Jeremy. I watch him as he walks by, but he won’t look at me. His eyes remain trained on the floor.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling at the customer.

  She slips a dollar into the tip jar next to the register.

  Jeremy’s red BMW backs out of the parking spaces. I squint, looking for the mark I left on his car. It’s gone. His tires let out a screech as he races onto the street. Now that he’s out of sight, I ring up the next customer.

  Rex comes out after the counter is clear.

  “Do you know what’s going on between Jeremy and Steve?” I ask.

  “Unfortunately, I do.” He sighs.

  “Well, what was that all about?”

  He looks at me, jaw
clenched.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but Jeremy loaned Steve a bunch of money, and Steve has gambled it away.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” he whispers and moves closer. “The money was supposed to be used to float this place, but Steve burned it all at the casinos.”

  I look at him, wide eyed. My hand covers my mouth.

  “Exactly,” he says with an affirming nod. “So you might want to think about finding somewhere else to work. I don’t see this place staying open for long.”

  I drop my hand from my mouth, and my head falls forward. “It’s that bad?”

  “It’s that bad.”

  At that very moment, I start cramping. “I’ll be right back.” I dart off to the bathroom and check my panties. There’s no blood, but at least I’m feeling something. I should’ve seen my monthly friend a week and a half ago, but I’ve been under a lot of stress. I’m sure my period is just delayed from that.

  I finish my shift and go get my things before leaving. As far as I can tell, Steve hasn’t left the office. When I come out of the locker room, finally, the office door is cracked open.

  Tap tap tap. I knock lightly on the doorjamb.

  “Yeah,” Steve says.

  I push the door open just enough so I can see in. There are papers everywhere, and every cabinet and drawer is open. Steve’s frantically shuffling through everything as if he’s looking for something that he can’t find.

  I step one foot into the office. “Is everything okay?” I know full well it isn’t.

  “It’s fine.” He continues rummaging like I’m not here.

  I feel my heart sink. “Well, I saw you earlier with that guy.”

  “Yeah? Which one?”

  “The redheaded one. Jeremy.”

  He stops flipping through one of the many files on his desk. “So?” And he starts again.

  “Well, I know him.”

  Nothing in Steve’s demeanor has changed.

  “I mean… we just went on a couple of dates. So, you know I know he’s in finance or something. And you’re related, right?”

  Steve stops and stares at me with a studying gaze.

  I stand, expressionless, just breathing calmly and giving back my own studying gaze.

  He sits back in his chair and folds his hands over his belly. “He’s my nephew.”

  I nod slowly. “So… is the café okay? I mean, financially.”

  Steve narrows an eye. “Who are you again?” Suddenly he snaps his fingers. “Gina. Right.”

  “Right,” I say.

  “Gina… what you’re asking is none of your fucking business.”

  He jumps up out of his seat, appearing distracted again by the clutter littering his office. He frantically starts shuffling through his filing cabinets and his trash can and his filing cabinets again then suddenly looks as if he’s struck gold.

  “Ah ha.” He holds up a white envelope “This.” He taps the envelope twice against his palm.

  It looks fat, like it’s full of cash.

  Steve grabs his jacket from the back of the door. He passes me and turns. “Tell Rex to clean this place up,” he says before continuing on his way through the kitchen.

  I stand, watching his overweight frame shuffle down the hallway. I know he’s gone when I hear the back door open and then slam shut.

  9

  Boy, was that weird. I don’t even want to think about where he was going when he left the café, but my instincts tell me that his downward spiral will continue. However, I’ve got plenty of things on my mind. Like why in the world haven’t I started my period? It’s normally like clockwork—I’m on a regular twenty-eight-day menstrual cycle.

  Something deep inside me is merging with the darkness of night. My brain wants me to run a few calculations, but my denial is strong. I’m unwilling to think about the fact that I could be pregnant.

  I turn into my driveway and park my car near my front porch. I don’t have to drive all the way into my garage because the temperature today was seventy degrees. All week long at school and at work we’ve been talking about the odd variations in the weather. One day it’s snowing, and three days later, we can practically wear our sundresses and flip-flops.

  As soon as I’m inside, I fall on top of the couch. I want to watch the next episode of Head Chef Total Domination, but the thought of seeing Randy on TV makes me queasy. Instead, I pull up the calendar on my phone and think back to the day I had my last period. I’m pretty sure it was on a Friday because I worked my shift at the café and then I went to Standards, a restaurant uptown, with Gemma and Sarah, two friends from high school. Both of them are married and pregnant and were grilling me on when I was going to get with the program and join them. Two things happened that made me smile victoriously—the entrees were served, and I had to excuse myself to go to the restroom because I got my period.

  From the date of our dinner, I count to the night Randy and I fucked without a condom.

  “One, two, three, four…” I keep counting until I reach, “fourteen.”

  I gasp and sink deeper into the sofa. I sit very still and try to will my period to come. Maybe it’s delayed because I’ve been so busy with school and then work. I breathe deeply, relaxing all my limbs and then the rest of my body. I repeat, “Come period, come.”

  After a while, my eyes pop open. I swear I felt two cramps. I race to my bathroom, pull down my pants, and check. There’s no blood. Grappling with anxiety, I pull my pants back up, walk out to my bedroom, and pace in front of my dresser. I could go to bed and hope when I wake up in the morning, my cycle will have started.

  I can’t wait that long.

  I rush back into the living room, grab my keys off the coffee table and my purse off the sofa, and head to Walgreens. My hands are trembling during the entire drive. I mean, seriously, what sort of mother could I be? I would have to buy diapers and baby formula. Then there’s preschool and, oh God, how would I handle it if my child were to be bullied? I used to hate to see that happen to kids when I was in school—and boy, does it happen a lot. I never participated in such acts, nor did I need to be friends with kids who did. My dad used to say, “It’s all a personal choice, Gina. If you cross lines, then you’re to blame.” He used to repeat that all the time. It never made any sense until I turned fifteen or so. Then I knew. I would never sacrifice my beliefs and my decency in order to be liked. Fuck ’em. If anything, I stood up for those who were convinced that they couldn’t stand up for themselves, and I mean I literally fought. By the time I turned fifteen, I was already a black belt in karate. Of course I abandoned the practice when I turned sixteen. Naomi thinks I have a problem with staying focused and I should sit down and talk with a therapist about that. She’s right. I am unfocused at times. Now, what sort of parenting skills can an unfocused person like me have?

  “I’m fucked,” I whisper as I park in front of the drugstore. Not only that, but if I’m pregnant, my child is fucked. No way—God is more merciful to children than that. But then I think of all the screwed-up households my friends had growing up—and mine wasn’t that perfect either—and I realize being mentally and emotionally stable isn’t a criterion for bringing new life into this messed-up world.

  I take a steadying breath before I force myself to get out of my car, and soon, I’m walking under the fluorescent lights of the drugstore. My head feels like it’s in a daze as I go up and down the aisles until I locate the pregnancy tests. For some reason, I’m jolted by an infusion of optimism. There’s no way I’m pregnant. But I still take the most popular pregnancy test brand off the shelf and stroll confidently to the register. I pay, avoiding the look of dread on the face of the woman who rings up my purchase.

  Soon, I’m home and in my bathroom, peeing on a white stick. I’ve already read the instructions, and they’re pretty easy. Pee on the tip, and wait twenty minutes. If a pink plus sign appears in the results window, then I’m pregnant. If a blue minus sign app
ears, then I’m not pregnant.

  I sit the test stick on top of a clean paper towel on the counter, set the timer on my phone for twenty minutes, and wait. I return to the living room and sink deep into the sofa. I’m still feeling pretty optimistic. Sure, I made a mistake by screwing Randy without a condom. Never again. Actually, I’ll never have sex with Randy again. I’m pretty sure he’s hot for Chef Deanna Blume, anyway. I turned off the last episode after he picked her first for his team challenge squad—even when she was on the bottom the week before. When they cut to Randy’s interview, he said he picked beauty before skill. What a dick thing to say and do. Right then and there, I was so over Randy. I felt as if I was ready to conquer life.

  New goals. New dreams. Perhaps after I graduate from culinary school, I’ll move to Los Angeles or, even better, Seattle and open my own little restaurant. I would specialize in American and French fusion. Maybe I should open my restaurant in New Orleans. I’ve been saving the bulk of my inheritance for a big move. Whatever decision I make, I have to make sure it’s the right one and cost effective.

  I play with the idea of turning on the TV to see if Randy has fallen in deeper with Chef Deanna. I also want to know if he won last week’s challenge and if he’s winning this week’s too. I could check the blogs. That might be more palatable. I spring up off the sofa to get my computer, but the timer rings. Twenty minutes went by so fast. I hightail it to the bathroom but stop to brace myself once I reach the door. This is the big moment. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. After I walk to that counter and see that test, I will no longer be able to delude myself. One last breath, and I go in and look. There’s a pink plus sign.

  I look up and stare at myself in the mirror, blinking slowly. My head is light, and I feel as if my spirit has left my body. These results could not be right. No way. Maybe this particular test is defective. Maybe I need to drink some water or something first. I shake my head conclusively. I’ve prayed. I’ve bargained with God. Those results are wrong—I just know it.