Spin Control

by Holly O'Dell

  "My recommendation is Wang's Chinese, but any of those are good"

  "I'll take whatever you recommend. What from Wang's do you usually get?"

  "Sesame chicken, medium spice. Pretty uninventive."

  "Ever tried the chicken and cashews?"

  I leaned over his shoulder to read the menu description and caught a whiff of the cologne I had smelled outside the restaurant. "Nope" I hope he didn't notice the pause. "It has mushrooms, and I'm allergic to those"

  "That's too bad. How did you find that out?"

  "I think it was an adult-onset thing. Anna and I had taken a trip to Seattle our senior year of college for spring break, and the night before we were heading back home, we had a nice dinner. I had never liked mushrooms, but I'd eat them occasionally. And I didn't ask if my dish had mushrooms in it, but I ate it anyway. In the middle of the night, I woke up with horrible nausea and, well, I barely made it to the bathroom. Not because I wasn't fast enough, mind you, but because my eyes were swollen shut"

  Michael wrinkled his nose. "You didn't fly home, did you?"

  "I had no choice. We were poor college students and couldn't afford to pay for another night in Seattle, so I slept in the back of the plane on the floor, right by the bathroom. The flight attendants were great about it. I sent the airline a letter of apology about being so sick, I felt so guilty."

  "They were probably happy to get a letter of apology rather than having to write one." He shook his head. "Some spring break. Why Seattle, by the way?"

  "I'm not the Daytona Beach/Cancun/South Padre type-at least I wasn't at the time. I was an angstridden college student. `Oh, those places are so cliche,' Anna and I would haughtily say. But now, those places are rather intriguing to me. Sort of a regressive thing, one might say" I pointed over Michael's shoulder at the menu. "So, what can I order for you?"

  "If I get the cashew chicken, will you get sick?"

  "Nah, maybe just gag" I teased. "I can be near them, just can't eat them. You mean I didn't gross you out with my mushroom story?"

  "I'm so hungry, nothing can affect this appetite. So that's what I'll have" He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty.

  "Put that away," I ordered. "I already owe you at least twice that for the dinner that one night." And the cab fares. And the hot dogs. And the baseball jersey. Suddenly guilt settled over me, along with the wonder of how Michael had so much disposable cash.

  After placing our order, I ran to the refrigerator to see what our beverage choices were. A Brita pitcher full of water and a two-liter of Sunkist were all I had. Had I really been so wrapped up with work that I couldn't even stock my refrigerator?

  I gave the choices to Michael.

  "Sunkist?" he laughed.

  "I have no idea why I have that. I haven't had it since third grade."

  "I'll take it. Orange sugar water sounds oddly refreshing right now."

  "How about I serve it in wine glasses, and that'll make us feel like grown-ups?" I smiled.

  Michael broadly grinned in return. It was nice to see him smile, considering how intense he always seemed.

  With two Sunkist-filled wine glasses, I came back to the living room, where Michael had been looking through the few DVDs I owned.

  He jumped back like a little kid caught in the cookie jar. "Sorry," he lamely apologized. "I guess I didn't notice your movies the last time I was over here. I'm surprised that most of these are romantic comedies."

  "I'm surprised you know what a romantic comedy is."

  "Well, I would have called them `chick flicks,' but you'd probably have kicked me out by now" He had put the five DVDs back in their place. "You don't have anything with Miranda!" he said in mock horror.

  "Shh, don't tell her. I'll go out and buy one of her movies tomorrow, I swear."

  Michael sipped the orange soda. "You know, I would've never pegged you as the romantic comedy type."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Really? What type of movies do you think I should own?"

  "Anything that premiered at Sundance"

  "Thanks, I guess. So, what's in your collection?"

  "A lot of war movies."

  I wrinkled my nose.

  "Hey, have you ever seen a war movie? They're not all that bad"

  "Did you ever have to do spin for your clients in Hollywood if they ever did bad movies?"

  "Yeah, one time I spent an hour on the phone with an editor at Entertainment Weekly trying to persuade him that Courtney Love and Ben Affleck really did make a believable match on-screen"

  A-ha! The rumor was true. "So, you worked for Courtney Love?" I tried to act casually.

  "For like a week" Michael shook his head and laughed, his eyes brightening. "Then I handed her over to a fellow publicist, who thrived off the commotion that followed her everywhere. And that was right around the time things were going sour between me and Jillian, so I just wasn't needing the drama" He became serious at the mention of the ex-fiancee, but gave a quick chuckle. "Then again, Devin ranks right up there on the drama scale. It certainly has introduced me to the city, that's for sure"

  I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

  "As weird as it sounds, this Devin thing is the most social I've been since I've moved here"

  I felt a tinge of sympathy for Michael. "What do you usually do for fun?"

  "I go out exploring by myself. I go to the gym, because no matter how far I get away from L.A., I will always be a gym rat" I unexpectedly found myself trying to casually look at his pecs through his white polo shirt, tucked into his khaki pants. I was pretty sure he was ripped, but I stared a few seconds longer just to make sure. Yup, it was confirmed.

  "How 'bout you? What do you do for fun?" He raised an eyebrow, noticing that I was staring at his chest.

  "Oh, you mean other than giving a personality makeover to my ex-boyfriend?" I hastily covered. "I hang out with Anna a lot. I have some other friends I do dinner with once every few months, but Anna and I are like sisters-or at least what I imagine a sister should be like. Wouldn't know, since I was an only child, and an `oops' at that"

  "Well, I have a sister, and although the brother-sister relationship is different than the sister-sister relationship, we still get along pretty well" He crossed his legs out in front of him and stretched his arms above his head. "Of course, we still get under each other's skin from time to time, but we respect each other, and that's a great quality to have."

  "You mean you don't get into knock-down, dragyou-by-the-hair fights at this age?" I smirked.

  "My sister ..." Michael hesitated.

  "Yes?" I encouraged.

  "She's someone you-" We were interrupted by a knock at the door. I leapt off the purple couch where I had been sitting facing Michael, to get to the door. I returned immediately with our food, packaged in one large brown bag.

  "This is why I love Wang's-they're cheap, they're fast, and they love me for ordering from them at least once a week" I started taking the food out of the bag and setting it on the pine coffee table with dark-brown varnish. "Anyway, what were you saying about your sister?"

  "It's not important," Michael said dismissively. "I can't wait to eat. I don't think I've ever been this hungry."

  "I hear that. Let me get some silverware before you have to resort to turning it into finger food"

  As I gathered plates and forks from my kitchen, I thought about how it was eating out with Devin. I'm up for trying new foods, but with him, it was always the highest-priced restaurants, always ordering food I couldn't pronounce, let alone recognize, always pretending that I really liked foie gras when all I wanted was a cheeseburger. It was nice that Michael didn't have any of those pretenses and was just willing to dive into some good old-fashioned comfort food. Devin wouldn't have been caught dead ordering from a place like Wang's.

  Wait, was I just comparing Devin to Michael? And Michael came out ahead? Now, now, I mustn't be thinking like that, I thought, but there was that muffled voice in the back of my head that squeaked, "Why no
t?"

  After a deep breath to compose myself, I came back to the living room and set the dishes on the table. Michael reached for them as I was moving my hand away. We brushed fingers, every so slightly, and the back of my neck tingled. He cleared his throat, and I wiped my hands on my pants.

  I sat down and concentrated on biting, chewing, swallowing, anything but Michael. But that voice I heard in the kitchen got a little bit louder. "Why not?"

  44She's alive!" Michael said in his best Vincent Price voice.

  I slowly looked up from my desk to see Michael in my doorway. "Well, happy Monday to you, too."

  "I didn't think you were going to get up until Tuesday the way you went out Saturday night."

  Rita, the administrative assistant, happened to be walking by at that moment, and she raised an eyebrow. I shot her an "it's not what you think" look, but she smirked and continued walking.

  I looked at Michael, vaguely recalling Saturday night. "Pardon?"

  "We ate our takeout, you popped in a movie, and you passed out"

  Yes, it was coming back to me. I remember looking at the clock on the DVD player at 12:32, and it was dark outside. I had no recollection of whether Michael was still there. When I woke up for good at 4 P.M. Sunday, I knew that Michael had left. I watched TV for a few hours, absently ate a bowl of dry shredded wheat, and went back to bed, too exhausted to even wonder what happened to Michael.

  "So," he said as he looked at his shoes, "you didn't get my note?"

  "Note?"

  "Oh" He seemed embarrassed. "It's nothing, really. Just didn't want to wake you so I thought I'd leave a note"

  "That was sweet," I said softly. "Thanks"

  He waved a hand like he was shooing away a fly. "Ah, don't worry about it. Anyway," he quickly switched to business persona, "we didn't even get a chance to talk about the Symphony Ball Thursday night."

  "What?" I panicked as I shuffled through my calendar. "I had it down as next Thursday"

  "Nope, it's this Thursday"

  Frustrated, I put my head in my hands. "I can't even keep my schedule straight!" I took a deep breath. "All right, sorry you had to witness that freak-out. Tell me what needs to be done"

  "I called all the papers and TV stations this morning to give them a heads up that Fox Underhill will be there as the guest of honor, considering his $1 million contribution last year to the symphony, and Devin will be going as his guest."

  Good old Michael. Smooth, controlled, on top of the game.

  As if on cue, Gwen bounded into my office. "Oh, just the pair I was looking for!" Her gaudy silver-andturquoise earrings swung fiercely. "Say, I need you two to do a favor for that little do-wop on Thursday. You need to go out and buy Devin a new suit."

  "Excuse me?" I asked disbelievingly, while Michael grimaced.

  "You heard me," she snorted. "Specifically, you need to get it from Hugo Boss. I just got off the phone with their marketing VP, and if we can get Devin in one of their suits and get him some press while he's wearing it .. " Gwen paused for dramatic effect. "Well, then we'll be doing some business with Hugo Boss, that's all I can say. Anyway, Angie's your contact at the store on 5th Avenue. She's expecting you today. Toodles!" She spun out of my office in her Aztec-printed skirt.

  I waited till Gwen was out of earshot. "There have been times when I just wanted to up and quit Burton Relations." I white-knuckled the edge of my desk. "This has to rank in the top five. I mean, what are we, personal assistants? We have to go shopping for a suit now for that weasel?"

  "Come on, Kate" Michael was grinning from ear to ear.

  "What are you smiling at?" I asked skeptically, yet his smile was contagious; I started giggling.

  "See? You have to laugh at it, otherwise stuff like this will drive you nuts. We'll make a day of it. We'll have lunch, get the suit, have a snack, check on the suit, get coffee, talk about the suit, get another snack, and then call it a day"

  I nodded. "I like your thinking."

  He checked his watch. "Onward and upward. Leave at high noon?"

  The morning flew by with the usual tasks of taking and making phone calls, e-mailing, opening mail, filing, surfing the Internet for any mentions of clients. I found an interesting site and shared it with Michael as we walked to Hugo Boss.

  "Do you know that some girl in Albany has a Web page devoted to Devin?"

  Michael snapped his head toward me. "You've got to be kidding me."

  "Her name is Hilary, and she has all these pictures posted of Devin. All the good, wholesome ones, of course. For her sake, I hope she didn't see any of those skanky ones we saw doing our research"

  "Wow, Devin has made it. A fan page. Unreal. What does the girl say about Devin?"

  "Oh, she pretty much just has a bunch of captions next to his pictures, talking about he is the hottest guy in the whole wide universe and how she is trying to get her parents to swing for a room at Hotel Bella on her 13th birthday." I raised a finger. "And the best part is she talks about how he's really into charity and stuff, to paraphrase, of course"

  Michael held open the door for me when we arrived at the grand store with the bright atrium. "If a 13-yearold is seeing our work coming into play, you'd think the rest of New York would catch on soon"

  My eyes wandered over the elaborate suits, made of the finest fabrics shipped from halfway across the world. There was a menagerie of charcoals, grays, navys, and even some brighter blues. I felt horribly underdressed in the store, with my beige linen pants and light purple blouse. The store was buzzing with lunchtime traffic, yet a blond clerk immediately found our way to us.

  "Can I help you?" she chirped.

  "We're looking for Angie," Michael said authoritatively.

  "That's me" Suddenly her voice dropped to its normal octave, and she sounded about ten years older. "How can I help you two today?"

  "We're from Burton Relations," I offered.

  She gave a knowing nod. "Of course," she whispered conspiratorially. "Devin Underhill. Are you his personal assistant?" Angie looked me up and down.

  I frowned. "You could say that"

  "She's from Burton Relations, too," Michael said, trying to sound as unpatronizing as possible. "So, Angie, what do we need to do?"

  "First, you need to choose a suit." Her long, straight blond locks swayed back and forth.

  Michael cleared his throat. "I was under the impression that the suit would be ready, and we'd just have to pick it up."

  "Well, my impression was that you'd be finding a suit-with my recommendation, of course," she beamed.

  Michael pulled me aside and spoke under his breath. "I don't have a good feeling about this. I don't want to be here for two hours trying to find a suit for Devin."

  I laughed and gently poked his rib. "Do we have a choice? And by the way, what happened to `We have to laugh about these situations?"'

  Michael also laughed. "Hey, don't use my words against me!"

  "Are we ready?" Angie sang behind us.

  We turned to face her. "Sure," I resigned. "What's the first step?"

  "Well, do you have Devin's measurements?"

  Now how were we supposed to get those? They had to be on file somewhere, maybe where he buys his suits. "I'll get those later," I dismissed. "For now, can we see your suggestions?"

  "I have about ten suits in mind." Michael rolled his eyes, but I didn't blink. Angie looked at Michael. "Would you be willing to model for us?"

  "Be a good sport," I winked.

  He shook his head and sighed. "Who's the one who should be looking for a new job?"

  I playfully patted his shoulder. "You'll be fine. Now, get to the dressing room, you"

  He stuck out his lower lip and shuffled his feet. Angie shoved a suit toward him, and he reappeared within two minutes.

  Angie and I looked at each other with wide eyes, then stared at Michael. He had kept his white buttondown shirt on, but the smooth, slate-gray jacket perfectly hugged his broad shoulders, and the matching pants fit him per
fectly, especially when he turned around to model his backside.

  "I never realized how tall you were" was all I could manage.

  He was clueless to our gawking. "Yeah, I'm six-two. How tall did you think I was?"

  I pursed my lips. Why hadn't I noticed his height before? And that body? Why did he look like a brand new person in that overpriced suit? All right, girl, slow down, I silently coaxed myself.

  "I think you should buy it," I blurted.

  Michael squinted. "Kate, you realize how much this costs, right?"

  I turned hopefully to Angie. "He could get a discount, right?"

  "Forty percent."

  "Nah," he shrugged.

  "Fifty!" Angie, apparently overcome by her attraction for Michael, was in the mood for bargaining.

  "He'll take it," I answered for him. "Look, you, a suit like that for half the price is a steal."

  Michael looked at the tag. "I wouldn't say $4,000 is a steal."

  "Look at it as an investment," I persuaded.

  "If you think it's a good purchase, then I trust your judgment."

  Angie cleared her throat, reminding us of her presence. "What about Devin's suit?"

  "Oh, right, that's why we're here." I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Angie, we're kind of in a hurry. Why don't you pick out the suit you think is best? I'll fax over his measurements as soon as I get them, and you can send the tailored suit to this address" I wrote down the Hotel Bella corporate office while Michael changed back into his clothes.

  "Are you sure?" Angie said softly.

  I leaned in closely to her and kept my voice low. "You saw Michael in the first suit he tried on, right? And you saw how good he looked. You picked that out. If you can do wonders with him, think of what you can do for Devin Underhill."

  "Just one question," Angie inquired. "Does he have a girlfriend?"

  "No, but he's a very busy man, managing all those hotels" I hope I let her down all right.

  She blushed. "I was talking about him." She pointed to the changing room.

  "Um, well, you know, I don't think-no, he's single." Why was I stumbling over my words? I had no claim to Michael, and he could date whomever he chose. "You should give him your number," I forced myself to say.