Blogger Girl

by Schorr, Meredith

  I nodded. “I know.” I don’t know. Before there was still a possibility she was a client. Now I knew for certain it was a lunch date. Delectable burgers notwithstanding, Nicholas would never take a client to the Shake Shack. “Just the same, I don’t think I want to eat in the park. If you don’t mind, I’m going to bring my food back to my desk. I really don’t want to watch them. And I don’t want to risk him seeing me. It’s too cold anyway.” I kicked at the dead grass beneath my feet.

  Caroline smiled softly and gave me an understanding nod. “No worries. I don’t blame you and I’m actually slammed at work. This line is taking longer than I thought. But at least we got to spend time together.”

  “True.” I should have eaten the damn tuna fish sandwich.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, I tried as hard as I could to concentrate on my work and not make a bigger deal out of the Nicholas situation than it warranted. Maybe he was a douche bag and I dodged a bullet. Maybe he was a horrible kisser. Maybe he had a tiny penis.

  “Hey Kim. Good weekend?”

  I looked up to see David standing at the side of my desk with a wide toothy grin. “Yes, it was decent.” Looking at the smile still painted on his face that had reached his kind blue eyes, I said, “But why do I think yours was better?”

  “Can I tell you a secret?” He leaned his stocky body in closer to me.

  “You most certainly may,” I said. I sat forward and angled my chair in his direction.

  His eyes sparkling, David said, “I’m proposing to Amy this weekend.”

  “Oh My God, that’s awesome, David! What’s the plan?” I had met his girlfriend Amy at the firm’s holiday party a couple of months earlier. She was a bit nondescript but as nice and wholesome as David. They seemed like a perfect couple.

  “Well, I’m taking her out to dinner,” he whispered as if he was afraid Amy would overhear.

  As I leaned in closer to him to maintain the private nature of the conversation, I saw Nicholas approaching my desk out of the corner of my eye. Continuing to talk to David, I said, “So far so good. Where are you taking her?” I had assumed Nicholas was headed to Rob’s office but he stopped right next to where David was standing and appeared to be in no hurry to move. My heart began beating at an accelerated pace but I tried to ignore it. And him.

  “And then I’m going to propose over champagne and dessert,” David said excitedly.

  Unfortunately, I had been too distracted by Nicholas’ appearance to hear most of David’s story and I had no idea where this engagement dinner was taking place. Feeling too guilty to confess to my half-assed attention span, I cleared my throat and said, “Sounds like an awesome plan. So happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Kim!”

  “Did you need to see Rob?” I had never seen David’s posture so relaxed before and he radiated happiness. I hoped whatever Rob wanted wouldn’t interfere with his elation.

  He shook his head. “Nah. I came over to share the good news with you.”

  I stood up and gave him a hug. “I’m so glad you did.”

  When we separated from our embrace, David looked over at Nicholas and smiled. “I guess you heard too.”

  Nicholas smiled back and slapped David lightly on the back. “I did. Congratulations! Very happy for you.”

  “Thanks!” Glancing at his watch, David said, “Shit. I gotta get back to work. See you guys later.”

  After he walked away whistling to himself, I sat back down and started writing a fake email. Nicholas was still standing there and so I looked up and gave him a half smile. “Hi.”

  Grinning broadly, he said, “Hi yourself. I’ve been thinking about you.”

  Against my better judgment, his words warmed my heart. But I found it hard to believe he was thinking of me while having lunch with another girl. Skeptical, I arched an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

  Leaning toward me, he said in his trademark deep whisper, “Yeah. Was curious whether you accepted that girl’s friend request.”

  I jerked my head back in surprise that he had given that conversation any thought, but quickly nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Was it a tough decision?”

  Although he focused his attention on me like he truly cared, I couldn’t get the image of his hand on the blonde girl’s lower back out of my mind. He was simply being nice. It meant nothing. “Actually, it was. My left hand practically ripped my right hand from the socket as I clicked ‘confirm.’” I shrugged. “But my friend Caroline convinced me it was the right choice.”

  Nicholas gave me a soft smile. “For what it’s worth, I agree with your friend Caroline.” As he opened his mouth to say something else, Rob’s voice boomed out, “Nicholas!”

  Nicholas glanced behind him to Rob’s office. “The boss beckons.”

  I nodded. “Bosses do that sometimes.”

  “I better get in there,” he said without moving.

  “Strong!”

  “Okay!” Nicholas rolled his eyes and smiled at me again. “See you.”

  “See you.”

  After Nicholas walked away, I decided to check my personal email account in order to avoid over analyzing what was simply a friendly conversation. Along with several emails from authors attaching Kindle compatible copies of their books for review, I had a new email from Candy Adams at Novel Inc. PR. I featured many of her clients’ books on my blog and excitedly read the email to find out whose book she wanted me to review this time. Halfway through the third sentence, I felt my face go pale.

  Dear Kimberly,

  I hope all is well. Great reviews lately on Pastel is the New Black! I am writing on behalf of a new client, Hannah Marshak. Her debut chick lit novel, Cut on the Bias, is being published by Three Monkeys Press this June. I’d like to provide you with the book for review, preferably shortly before it is released. You can read the synopsis on her website www.hannahmarshak.com

  Please confirm that this review will fit into your busy schedule. As always, I am excited to work with you.

  Best,

  Candace

  I leaned back in my chair, my jaw clenched. I should have known the timing of Hannah’s friend request was not a coincidence. The Hannah I knew would never do anything unless there was something in it for her. How could I have been so clueless? I was the creator of a blog dedicated to the review of chick lit books and Hannah was the author of a chick lit book. Why wouldn’t she try to use her connection to me to secure a positive review? I felt a pit in my stomach and was afraid I might purge the Shack Burger I’d just eaten for lunch. Before I could chicken out, I entered Hannah’s website address into my browser. I had to read the synopsis to Cut on the Bias. What kind of dumb ass title was that anyway?

  Jacqueline Milano graduated at the top of her class at the world famous Fashion Institute of Technology. Snagging the coveted position as an associate designer for the up and coming and seemingly impossible to please, Pierre Siciliano, Jacqueline leaves her family and fiancé in New York City to work in Paris, the city of blinding lights. She thinks her dreams are finally coming true until she is thrust headfirst into the cutthroat world of fashion. Jacqueline is unprepared for the insecure models, the backstabbing colleagues and, most of all, falling hard for Pierre. Will Jacqueline soar in the world of Paris fashion or will she book the first flight home to her parents and the love she left behind?

  I took a long gulp of water and stared open-mouthed at my monitor. Much to my utter dismay, the plot actually sounded intriguing. And whoever had designed her website had done a really nice job. The background was the Paris skyline with the Eiffel Tower all lit up. Even Bridget would probably agree it was well done. I bit my fingernails as I read her bio. “Hannah Marshak’s childhood dream of being a writer has finally come true with the launch of her debut novel, Cut on the Bias.” Childhood dream? I had known Hannah since kindergarten and as far as I knew, the only dream she’d had since childhood was to have more devoted followers than Charles Manson.

  Could my day
have been any worse? It had to end. Immediately. I looked at my watch. It was almost 5. “I need to leave a bit early today,” I said to Rob over the phone.

  There was only one place I wanted to be. One place I needed to be. But since the neighborhood Barnes & Noble had sadly closed earlier that year, I walked south towards Union Square. I zipped my coat up to my neck and pulled my knit hat over my ears. When I finally arrived at The Strand, an independent bookstore, my hands and cheeks were numb from the cold but my heart was warm. I walked directly to the fiction section and began pulling books with pastel covers off the shelves. I quickly collected about ten books in my arms, sat in a corner and began reading the acknowledgement sections, where authors thanked the people who inspired and supported their writing journeys. I felt closer to the author when I recognized a name of an agent or promoter I knew from my blog. I grinned when I flipped to the back of Heaven Can’t Wait and read, “Thank you to blogger extraordinaire, Kimberly Long, for providing a pre-publication review with less than a week’s notice and for organizing what I hope will be the best blog tour ever.”

  I knew the mention was there since the author had also sent me an autographed hard copy of the book after it came out, but I never tired of reading my name within the covers of a book. Even more than the professional expressions of gratitude, I loved to read what writers said about their families and loved ones. Shaking myself out of my stupor, I stood up and began returning the books to the shelves until there was only one left. Although I had almost twenty unread books on my Kindle, I was incapable of leaving a bookstore empty handed and made my way to the cash register.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS went by fast and I counted the days until my high school reunion with the dread of an inmate on death row. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do about the review of Cut on the Bias and figured Hannah would ask me about it at the reunion. The plan was to maintain a distant eye on her and then coincidentally find myself on the opposite side of the room at all times. Bridget promised to play co-lookout. To buy time and maintain some semblance of professionalism, I had returned Candy’s email indicating that I was extremely backlogged with book reviews (fact) but that I would try to move things around so I could read and review Hannah’s novel prior to its publication date (fiction).

  I was also doing my best to avoid face-to-face contact with Nicholas. If I had no chance with him, I really had no interest in being his friend. It would be too hard to pretend to be platonic when each time we made eye contact, my pulse quickened, my face warmed, I felt light-headed and my stomach flip-flopped. The only way to avoid it was to avoid him. When I felt him walk by my desk or heard Rob on the phone asking him to stop by, I either began typing on my computer at a frantic pace or feigned a very important telephone call with the dial tone until he was safely out of sight. If Rob called me into his office while he was meeting with Nicholas, I focused my attention solely on Rob even though I always felt Nicholas’ eyes on me. I felt kind of bad for the guy considering he hadn’t technically done anything wrong except not want to date me, but it was for self-preservation.

  I had spent most of the morning waiting for a huge color copy job for one of Rob’s cases. Ever since one of the copy guys misunderstood Rob’s instructions to collate the copies as making 100 copies of page one, 100 copies of page two, etc. rather than 100 copies of pages 1-20, Rob insisted I oversee his big jobs. So as to not be a distraction, I stood off to the side, reading First Star I See Tonight, a paranormal chick lit novel. Every so often I looked up from my Kindle to gauge their progress. I was on the last page and surprised by how much I had enjoyed the read since books where the characters had special powers like, in this case, the ability to travel through time, often fell short for me. Sensing someone watching me, I closed my Kindle, glanced up and saw 6’5” Tomas hovering over me with a stack of pages the length of his very long torso.

  “Finished?”

  Glancing at me and then lifting and lowering the papers in his arms, Tomas said, “All done. But you gonna be able to carry this yourself? I can help you. Or at least get you a box.”

  I hated when people associated my lack of height for my lack of strength. I was my family’s resident jar opener despite being the smallest. I put out my hands palms up. “Try me.”

  Tomas chuckled. “Okay. If you insist,” he said before transferring possession of the documents. He kept his hands beneath mine as if he thought the papers would slip right through my fingers.

  The second the paper made contact with my skin, I felt my biceps burn and regretted my sense of independence. Pride kept me from reconsidering Tomas’ offer for help and so I choked out, “Got it. But can you open the door for me and press the elevator button please?” There was no way I was taking the stairs from the 23rd to 24th floor while carrying the weight of a small country.

  Holding the papers, I carefully followed Tomas to the elevator which had answered my prayers and arrived immediately. I smiled at Tomas as the door closed. “Thanks!”

  By the time the elevator opened on the 24th floor, I was in serious pain and afraid I would lose all feeling in my arms, drop the papers and wind up spending the rest of the day on the floor putting them back in the correct order. I walked as fast as I could to Rob’s office, quite the challenge since I could barely see over the documents and, out of breath, placed them on his desk. I momentarily kept a hand on either side of the stack in case the papers fell. Without looking up, I said, “Oh my fucking God. That was heavy.”

  I heard a cackle behind me, turned around and saw Nicholas sitting in Rob’s guest chair looking at me beguilingly. It figures. At least this time my face was hot from sweating and not merely my body’s reaction to being in the same room as him.

  The moment it occurred to me that I was sweating and Nicholas was in the room, I brushed a damp hair away from my brow and turned back to Rob. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Rob leaned back in his chair, his arms clasped behind his head. “Watch the language, Long. Good thing I don’t have a client in here.”

  I began backing my way out of his office and said, “I’m going downstairs for lunch. And next time, we’re hiring a body builder to carry your enormous copy jobs.”

  “Enjoy your lunch,” Rob said. “And by the way, Tomas called and said you insisted on carrying them yourself. Dumb ass.”

  Defeated, I gave a half-hearted shrug and walked out.

  Fifteen minutes later, the feeling had returned to my hands and I was happily eating my salad while writing a blog post.

  ***

  I will never understand why the final three always act so surprised when they read the card from Chris Harrison inviting them to forego their individual rooms to spend the night as a couple in the Fantasy Suite. Are we really supposed to believe these girls haven’t been watching the show for the past eleven years?

  ***

  “Want company?”

  I looked up from my note pad to see Nicholas staring down at me. I was mid-chew so I quickly swallowed and nodded. “Sure.”

  Nicholas sat down and while he removed his plates of food from the tray to make more room on the table, I drank him in. I knew I was supposed to avoid face-to-face contact but he was within touching distance and I couldn’t help but stare.

  When he was finished organizing the table, he frowned at me. “You mad at me or something?”

  I absently scratched my head. “No. Why?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I feel like you’re avoiding me. You practically run in the opposite direction whenever you see me.”

  “Not true!” Okay, so it was true but a) I couldn’t exactly tell him that and b) he looked genuinely sad. “Sorry about that. Been really busy lately. Nothing personal. Promise.” I crossed my fingers behind my back.

  “Okay, good.” He smiled and cut into his quarter roasted chicken. Glancing at my note pad, he said, “What are you working on?”

  “A blog post. Just a silly recap of The Bachelor. I’m comparing th
e three hot messes who are still competing for the final rose. I take it you don’t watch the show?”

  A hint of pink painting Nicholas’ cheeks, he said, “Don’t laugh, but I’ve watched it. Only under severe pressure from the female persuasion though.”

  I felt my heart drop as I wondered if he was referring to the pretty blonde girl from the elevator. “Well, maybe you’ll appreciate my blog then.”

  “I just might. How do you find the time to do all of this with a full time job?”

  Tapping my hand lightly over his, I said, “I thought you read my blog post on juggling!” I mentally kicked myself for flirting. The plan was to get over him if I couldn’t get under him.

  Nicholas smiled. “I did. But refresh my memory.”

  “Rob knows that I won’t let my job suffer as a result of the blog so as long as I’m caught up on stuff, he doesn’t mind if I write during the day. He also knows I’m in a better mood after I’ve written a post. My mood is elevated after writing a blog post or even a review. I don’t know what it is but I’d probably compare it to runner’s high if I had ever actually experienced runner’s high.” I realized that Nicholas was staring at me and felt a rush of heat through my body. “Anyway, I make the time because I love doing it.”

  Studying me, Nicholas said, “I think it’s very cool that you’re so passionate about it. Ever thought about writing a book?”

  I placed a piece of hair behind my ear. “Writing a book review and writing a book are two totally different animals.”

  “True. I figured after reading so many books, you might have some ideas of your own though. Especially since you’re such a good writer.”