“You really are making sure everyone sees you, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m making sure everyone sees you with me. It will be up to you to ride this.”
Mike slid his sunglasses over his eyes the minute they met the outdoors. The café was only a block away and they managed to snag a table in the back.
“I should have known you’d show up today,” Judy said once they managed to get the waiter to stop staring and start writing down their order.
Mike leaned back, stretched his long legs out. “I’m flying out tonight and wanted to make sure we had some time alone.”
A woman from an adjacent table kept turning around to stare.
“When will you be back?”
“Production isn’t wrapping up for a month and a half, but I’m flying in for a few days the first week in September.”
The waiter brought them their drinks, smiled, and walked away.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you’re never home.”
“I wasn’t. I’m happy you and Meg are keeping my place occupied.”
Judy giggled. “It’s a hardship. Such a hassle after a two-bedroom apartment with one toilet and a shower without a tub.”
“I don’t want you in a hurry to move out.”
“It’s hard to be in a hurry when I’m not making my own living yet.” She’d gotten over the fact that her brother was supporting her and it was Meg’s income putting food on the table. She’d stretched her living expense money during her last semester in college to help carry her for the first few months in LA. But that was quickly dwindling.
“I talked to Mom and Dad.”
“Oh? Is everything all right?”
“Fine. They told me they don’t know how you’re paying for gas.”
“I saved.”
Mike looked over the rim of his sunglasses, which he kept on even though they were inside. “Judy.”
“I’m OK, Mike.”
“You might be . . . right now.”
“Really, I’m fine.” She hadn’t yet felt the poverty that would descend upon her before the holidays. Hard to feel poor when she lived in Beverly Hills and danced with the rich and famous.
He reached into his sports jacket and pulled out an envelope, slid it across the table to her.
She didn’t have to look inside to know its contents.
“Mike, no.” She moved it back.
“Judy, yes. I assured Mom and Dad you were fine. And after our little conversation the other day about Alliance, I know you might be feeling the pressure.”
“It’s normal pressure, Mike. Every college graduate needs to find their feet and get a job.”
“Which you’ll do. You’re working for free to gain experience. It’s like you’re not out of school yet. Consider this a student loan.”
She knew arguing wasn’t going to get her anywhere. And why fight it anyway? She didn’t have to spend the money. Giving it to her would give her brother and her parents some peace of mind. “Loaning money to family is a bad investment.”
“A graduation gift.”
“You gave me a party.”
“I gave my gardener’s daughter a party when she turned fifteen. I can give my sister more.” He slid the envelope back her way. “Take it, Judy. Use it.”
Pushing her pride aside, she took the thick envelope and tucked it in her purse. She leaned over and kissed her brother on the cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The waiter showed up with their food, and the conversation around money ended.
Forty-five minutes later Mike was walking her back to her office building. “Should I go back in with you?”
“Love ya, big brother, but the girls in the office are going to be hard to peel off as it is. Another Michael Wolfe dose might be too much for the water cooler to bear.” She gave him a big hug. “Safe flight.”
“I’ll text when I land so you won’t worry.”
She liked that. Liked the fact that she knew what was going on in her brother’s life. For too many years, he’d been absent. His temporary marriage to Karen seemed to have reminded him about his family, and Mike was working overtime to make up for some of the lost time. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime.”
People were still staring as Mike walked into the parking garage.
Judy made it back into the office before the majority of the staff returned from lunch. She took a moment to glance at the amount of money Mike thought was a graduation gift.
She stopped counting at ten thousand dollars, closed the envelope, and rested her head on her desk. I don’t have to spend it.
It was nice, however, to know emergency money was close at hand. She opened the drawer to her desk and started to place her purse inside. A copy of the magazine Mike had given her was there. Someone must have seen the magazine and placed it in her desk . . . but when? It wasn’t there when she left for lunch.
Not entirely comfortable with someone going into her space, Judy tucked the envelope with all the cash inside her boot, closed her purse in her desk, and made her way to the ladies’ room.
Chapter Nine
Tuesday started with a little more buzz than normal. Seemed everyone needed a night to sleep on the activity of the day before.
Nancy greeted her with more than a wave. “You didn’t tell me Michael Wolfe was your brother.”
“I don’t even know if you have a brother,” Judy said with a laugh.
“I do, but he’s no Michael Wolfe.”
“He’s probably just a brother who picked on you growing up and didn’t drop the toilet seat.”
“I guess. But wow.”
Judy waved her off and found many of the same conversations following her throughout the day. On her desk were a couple more magazines her brother managed to find himself in. Most didn’t even have her face on them . . . just Mike’s. Looked like the staff had picked up on her celebrity brother and were running with it by leaving the magazines.
One of the junior architects found her in the mail room and picked up a stack of mail to help.
“It’s José, right?”
“Yeah.”
Judy shoved a large envelope in Ms. Miller’s box in the top row.
José wasn’t a lot older than she was, but he already had a ring on his finger and she knew he had a picture of his two-year-old son on his desk.
“Tell me, José, who did the mail before I came on board?”
He moved through his stack of mail faster than she did. “We have interns every six months.”
“And do all of them have mail duty the entire time they’re here?”
“Depends on the intern.” He handed her an envelope that said Design Manager but was missing the name.
Judy placed it in Marlene’s box.
José handed her another letter, this time to the marketing director.
Judy filed it only to find José handing her several pieces of mail, none of which had names, only departments. When he stopped handing her mail, she realized they’d gone through all of it.
“Thanks for your help,” she told him. “Guess I’ll see what Mr. Archer needs me to file today.”
“Actually, you’ll be spending most of today with me. You have everyone’s name down and the departments they work in, now it’s time to match the faces.” José turned away and called over his shoulder. “Coming?”
She scrambled to catch up with him. “Wait, the mail thing was a test?”
“Not a test. A practical need. Everyone in the office will work with each other at one point in a project or another.” He kept talking as he made his way down the hall to his tiny corner of the huge center office. “A good architect knows their team, knows who is responsible for every step of the design process, that way when you go to the boss and pitch your designs you have more than just your input on the table.”
For the first time since she’d walked into Benson & Miller Designs someone was talking architecture with her. Her heart skipped and a
real desire to greet the rest of her day made her smile.
They rounded the corner of José’s office and Judy noticed an oppressive pile of papers.
José sat behind his desk and grabbed the stack. “I’m presenting this to the boss next Monday. It’s a redesign of the Valley Street Mall. Not the most exciting project, but the bread and butter of Benson and Miller.”
Judy understood that. A junior architect needed to show their worth with the smaller projects before any firm would advance them to the bigger projects team.
Before Judy could comment, someone poked his head into the office. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh, hey, Mitch.”
The delivery boy glanced at Judy and then handed a box to José. José signed for the box and waved him off.
Alone again, Judy asked, “What do you want me to do?”
The rest of the morning was a journey meant for flats and not the three-inch heels on her feet. She matched a face with nearly everyone on José’s small team to check facts, gather more materials from their offices, or ask questions. Once she felt familiar enough with the individuals, Judy made the phone do her footwork. By lunch, she had a pile of work she actually wanted to do. She considered working through the hour but wasn’t given the opportunity to stay in the office. Seemed many of the female employees wanted her to join them for lunch. Judy wasn’t naive enough to think they had a sudden need to know the new employee, but wanted the inside scoop on her brother.
Either way, by the time her lunch hour was up, she felt more welcome than the week before.
She sent Mike a quick text, telling him she owed him.
In return, he sent a winking emoticon.
The message center on her phone told her about a missed call.
Rick’s voice made her smile.
“Hey, babe . . . told you I’d call. So, Saturday at five. Wear something nice.”
She just stared at her phone. His presumptive pushy self might have ticked her off on a different day. Today she was riding the wave and decided to give him a little of his own medicine.
She texted Dan, Lucas, and Meg first. Pool, Saturday night?
Dan responded first. Lucas and I are in. Seven?
Meg was next. Can’t. Sam is sending me to New York. I love my job! Details later.
“New York?” Judy whispered.
Judy responded. Such the jet-setter. Fine, Lucas and Dan, meet you at the dive at seven.
Then, since her texting fingers were hard at work, Judy sent a message to Rick. Can’t Saturday, I have plans.
She hit send and then started on the next message. Friday at the Getty. I’ll meet you at the tram at seven thirty. The Getty was public, urban, and in her element. All the details needed for a first date where she didn’t trust herself to remain vertical.
With Rick, remaining vertical was a must.
Rick replied in seconds. Friday. I’ll pick you up at your brother’s at seven for the Getty.
Negotiation was good.
She did a little happy chair dance before stowing her phone and moving on with her day.
“You caved!” Meg called out the second Judy walked into the living room.
She tossed her purse and the folder with her pet project on the kitchen counter. “I did what?”
“Caved. Agreed to a date with Rick.”
Judy pulled a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator, leaned against the counter, and twisted off the lid. “I thought you didn’t see Rick very often.”
“I don’t.” Meg sat on one of the overstuffed chairs in the great room, her feet dangling off the arm. “He showed up after lunch asking me about the Getty. Asked if I could help a guy out to impress you.”
The man managed to place a smile on her face even when he wasn’t around. “And what did you say?”
“I told him the Getty was boring as all hell. Only redeeming quality was the wine that all those artsy folks drink.”
Judy rolled her eyes. How Meg was going to blend with the ultrarich was beyond her.
“And he said?”
“Nothing. I think he growled. I didn’t know grown men growled . . . well, outside of a bedroom.”
Great. Rick already thought an evening at the Getty was going to suck. Maybe an evening at a pool hall was a better match. Yet Judy knew she eventually wanted to date someone willing to try new things, learn about culture and design. They already knew they both had something in common shooting pool.
Instead of probing further, Judy asked, “So what’s this about New York?”
Meg’s legs flew off the side of the chair and she jumped to her feet. “I love my job. Have I told you that?”
“You have.”
“Sam is sending me to New York . . . and not just sending me, she’s sending me on their private plane. Did you know they had their own plane?”
“I think someone said that at some point.” For the life of her she couldn’t remember who or why the conversation had been brought up. Maybe something about Mike and Karen’s pretend honeymoon . . .
“A private jet. I’m going to some women’s seminar. Did you know that the governor’s wife used to work for Sam . . . actually I think she still has some interest in Alliance.”
Judy didn’t interrupt Meg when she got on a roll like she was now.
“Eliza and Sam are like this.” Meg crossed two fingers and waved them in the air. “Eliza is a keynote speaker at the event and she’s going to mentor me in how to approach potential clients for Alliance. Can you fucking believe that?”
Meg’s language would make a sailor blush when she was drinking heavily or overly excited.
“In this new world, yeah . . . I believe it.”
“I never thought a business degree would land me a job like this. Great clothes, private planes, and trips to New York? How the hell did I score this?”
Judy always knew Meg would make the most of any position she took. She was more driven to succeed than anyone she knew. It was one of the things they had in common.
“When are you leaving?”
“Friday morning. I’ll be sipping martinis in New York while you’re yawning at the Getty.”
“I like the Getty. I’m looking forward to the view of the city and the glow of the lights on the museum.”
Meg made a show out of yawning.
Judy tossed the plastic top of the water bottle at her friend.
“If your date with Rick ends well, you’ll be able to come back here without any interruption.” Meg wiggled her eyebrows.
“I’m not sleeping with him.”
Meg winced. “Good God, why not? The man is yummy with a capital Y!”
“I agreed to a date, Meg.” She wasn’t even sure why at this point. “Something tells me he wasn’t going to let up until I did.”
“That and the fact that his kiss kept you up late at night with carnal fantasies.”
Judy wished she had something else to toss at her friend. “Why do I ever tell you anything?”
“Because I’m your best friend. If there was some hottie after me as much as Rick is after you, you sure as hell would know all my thoughts on the man.”
It was Judy’s turn to growl. “One date and he’ll stop calling me babe.”
“You like the babe. You grin every time you say it.”
“I do not.” Judy forced her smile into a firm line.
Meg cocked her head to the side and waited until Judy’s smile appeared again.
“Sometimes I really hate you.”
“No you don’t. You love me like I’m one of the Gardner clan. I expect a full report Saturday morning.”
“A good friend would accept my phone call in the middle of the night.”
Meg sat back in the chair and reached for the remote control for the big screen in Mike’s living room. “I’m just hoping you’ll be too busy to call in the middle of the night to bother with me.”
“I’m not sleeping with him, Meg.”
The TV sprang to life, the volume set
way too high. “Yeah, yeah . . . I expect a call in the morning, where you’ll say, ‘Meg, I wasn’t planning on sleeping with him.’”
Judy finished her bottle of water and lobbed the plastic across the room, only to land at Meg’s feet. “Bitch.”
Chapter Ten
Rick had to admit, he’d not spent this much attention on the details of a date since he dated Sally Richfield, the lead cheerleader in high school and the second girl he’d ever slept with. He learned then that it didn’t take a lot to sway a teenage girl, but he didn’t know that going in and planned every detail of the date from the kind of flowers Sally liked to her choice of entrée. In the end, Rick had her in bed, where she returned for over a month before her steady boyfriend swayed her back.
No, Rick hadn’t worked as hard to date a girl since Sally. Judy was entirely different. She wasn’t playing hard to get because of a desire to attract an ex. She wasn’t saying no because she wasn’t interested. No, Judy was skittish because she was attracted and for some reason that eluded him, afraid to let herself go. Maybe after a night at the Getty, Rick would know the reason why.
A special event was taking place on the summer evening, some kind of Greek festival complete with special food and picnics on the grounds where guests could enjoy the sunset. He was fairly certain Judy had no idea about the event or she would have known how difficult it was to obtain tickets for the evening. Rick knew people . . . and those powerful people always had tickets to events as snooty as the one at the Getty on Friday night.
Rick knew nothing about art. He could take an AK apart blindfolded, but telling the difference between a Monet and a Rembrandt . . . not his gig. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself by pretending knowledge. Instead, he’d ask Judy. Let her educate him.
The phone on his desk rang, catching him off guard.
“Rick,” he answered.
“Hey, Smiley.” Neil used his old nickname from the service.
“What’s up?”
“Have you clicked into Michael’s today?”
Clicked into Michael’s meant the video and audio feeds. And since this was one of the days he wasn’t exclusive to monitoring, he hadn’t. He’d been busy researching the Getty and attempting to acquire the necessary tickets.
Taken by Tuesday (Weekday Brides Series) Page 9