Right Here, Right Now

by Georgia Beers

  “Lacey, you know Martha and Lori, right? You met them at the Christmas party.”

  I nodded in agreement. “I remember,” I said, and smiled at the couple while shaking their hands. Martha had short, chestnut brown hair tucked behind her ears. Lori was a tall blonde with kind eyes and a gorgeous smile. “Nice to see you again.”

  “And this is Lori’s cousin, Amy.” Leanne indicated the brunette, who held out a hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lacey. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She smiled, and her words sent red flags up in my head.

  This was a setup. I gave Leanne a sideways glance that she pretended not to see. “Nice to meet you, too,” I said, and shook her hand, which was larger than mine and soft, her grip firm but not too much so.

  My wine came and I had to make a conscious effort not to gulp it. Instead, I smiled and nodded along at different points in the conversation as we stood at the bar waiting for our table, and I plotted different horrific deaths for Leanne in my head. Tossing her off a cliff…Shoving her into oncoming traffic…Hiding pine nuts—which she’s deathly allergic to—in the salad I serve her. When the hostess came to lead us to our seats, Leanne and I brought up the end of the line. I turned to her and ground out, “Why didn’t you tell me you were setting me up?”

  “Because I knew you wouldn’t come.” It was a simple answer. It was also correct, but it bothered me a little bit that I was so easy to read.

  “I hate you.”

  “She’s nice. Give her a chance.”

  “Fine,” I said, a little flustered, and took another slug of my wine.

  Our table was in a back corner, which was nice, as the restaurant was packed and humming with conversation. I took the chair against the wall, which I liked, as I could people watch as well as talk to my fellow diners. Leanne sat to my right, Amy to my left, Martha and Lori between them. We were given menus and a wine list and left to it.

  “You enjoy wine?” Amy asked.

  I nodded. “I do. You?”

  “I do, though I don’t know much about it.”

  We went through the menu and wine list together, and I helped her choose a robust Zinfandel to go with the strip steak she planned to order. I decided on the chicken piccata, so stuck to my Sauvignon Blanc.

  “Leanne tells me you’re an accountant?” Amy asked, leaning close enough for me to smell what had to be some very expensive perfume. It was nice, a little musky with just a hint of something floral.

  “And a financial advisor, yes.”

  She shook her head. “Numbers make my brain hurt.”

  I grinned at that. “What do you do?”

  “I teach high school English.”

  We talked about that for a bit. Amy was nice. She was pleasant. She seemed intelligent and well-spoken. What she wasn’t was the gorgeous redhead who occupied the office next to mine. Though I kept trying to shove that thought back into its little box, it continued to pop the lid off and make itself known, like a tiny party reveler, waving its arms, tossing confetti, and blowing on a party horn. Still, I did my best to give her my full attention. She deserved that.

  I couldn’t speak for anybody else, but my dinner was excellent. My chicken was tender, the lemon juice and capers adding a lovely zing, the parsley fresh and bright green. I was just finishing my wine when the waiter set another glass in front of me.

  “I didn’t order that,” I said, puzzled.

  He smiled and pointed. “From the lady at the bar.”

  She was far enough away that, without the sunset red of her hair, I might not have been able to see who he meant. Alicia Wright held up her own glass in a toast to me and grinned as my entire table followed my gaze.

  “Oh,” I heard Leanne utter under her breath, drawing the word out.

  “Who’s that?” Amy asked, her tone a strange mix of intrigued and wary.

  “A friend,” I said. Not a lie. Not the entire truth either, really, though I’d be hard-pressed to explain it using actual words.

  “She looks familiar,” Martha commented as she furrowed her brow. “I can’t place her, though.”

  “She runs an advertising company, I think,” Leanne supplied, then turned to me. “Is that right?”

  I nodded. “Close. Marketing and graphic design.”

  “Her office is next door to Lacey’s,” Leanne said in explanation, and a round of nods went around the table, as if that explained everything.

  I was happy to leave it at that, but my eyes continued to be drawn back to the bar regularly. Each time, Alicia was still there. Once, she was chatting up the bartender. Once, it was the man next to her, and I absently wondered if he was trying to pick her up. My interest in Amy faded, no matter how hard I tried to force it, and I felt bad about that because I think she knew it.

  Like I said, spontaneity isn’t really my thing, and I felt a bit… off-kilter for the rest of dinner, as if my world had been tilted just enough for me to feel like I had to hold on to the table for balance. I tried—not very well—to keep my eyes and attention on the people at my table, but my gaze would wander to the bar, almost on its own, as if I had no control over myself.

  “This must be a crazy busy time for you,” Amy was saying, and I blinked three times and ordered myself to focus on this nice woman sitting next to me. “Being so close to the tax deadline.”

  I turned my attention to her, literally shifting my body so I faced her. “It is. The last couple of weeks before April fifteenth, I usually put in twelve-, sometimes fourteen-hour days.”

  “Oh, my God. You must be exhausted!” Amy’s dark eyes went wide and she laid a warm hand on my forearm. “I can’t imagine.”

  “And she forgets to eat,” Leanne said from the other side of me.

  Amy gave me a gently disapproving look, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head just a bit.

  I chuckled; I couldn’t help it. “I know, I know. But Leanne shows up every now and then with food and then stares at me until I eat it.”

  “True story,” Leanne said, with a nod.

  “Well, it’s nice to have people who care,” Amy commented, and I smiled my agreement.

  The waiter showed up to collect our empty plates, and I took the opportunity to glance at the bar, as at least five minutes had gone by, I was sure.

  Alicia was gone.

  Damn it!

  I don’t know why it upset me so much. I analyzed that as I quickly laid blame on Amy, on Leanne, before realizing how ridiculous I was being. I tried to grab onto logic. It wasn’t like Alicia had come there with me. It wasn’t as if she was supposed to stay and return my clandestine glances. She had obviously been there for some other reason, and I had no claim on her time or attention.

  Still…

  We settled up the bill, and the others discussed going out dancing. I don’t dance, so that was a hard pass for me. I had an odd mix of guilt, and a little ego boost, when Amy was obvious in her disappointment.

  “Do you think I could get your number?” she asked me quietly, as we trooped through the restaurant to the front door.

  “Absolutely,” I said. She pulled out her phone, and I rattled off my digits.

  “Great.” Amy slid her phone back into her purse, and her dark eyes settled on mine. They really were nice eyes. Richly brown, kind, expressive, outlined subtly and sporting thick, dark lashes. I liked her eyes. “I had a nice time tonight,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’m glad we met.”

  “Me too,” I replied, and it wasn’t a lie. Despite my distraction, I really did enjoy Amy’s company. It was nice to have somebody new to talk to, somebody who didn’t already know a ton about me. Starting fresh and all that.

  I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me that, on my drive home, Alicia tiptoed back into my thoughts. Sending me a drink from across a crowded restaurant and then disappearing before I could properly thank her? Wasn’t that what romantic movies were made of? Didn’t that only happen in romance novels?

  This train of thought stayed with m
e during my ride, the entire time I was loving up Leo (who apparently thought I’d been gone for days), and while I got ready for bed. I tried to shake it, but that red hair, that little salute, the mischievous grin—it all took up space in my head. Too much space.

  I climbed into bed and clicked on the TV, did my best to lose myself in an episode of Deadliest Catch. In addition to being fascinated by the ins and outs of crab fishing, I found myself unable to stop thinking about how bad those boats must smell…the combination of cigarette smoke, fish, and unwashed men…gross. But even as one worker fell overboard in the midst of a horrific storm, he only had half my attention. I couldn’t seem to help it.

  I fell asleep and dreamed of working on the deck of a ship, pulling up a crab pot with the winch, and finding a beautiful redheaded mermaid inside, smiling at me with sex and mischief in her eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  Monday morning dawned bright and sunny and cheerful. My disposition was similar. Why? Because there were only eight more days until April 15, and I was psyched. Buried, completely underwater, in the weeds, all those clichés about having too much work to do, but I didn’t care. Eight more days. I could do eight more days. I was going to survive another year.

  As I said before, my work wouldn’t suddenly stop after the fifteenth. Lots of my clients had extensions and there would still be much to do for several weeks after the deadline. But in my world, the fifteenth was cause for celebration. I am reasonably sure if you were to survey a plane full of people headed to a well-known vacation destination on April 16, a large majority of them would be in the finance industry.

  I didn’t have plans for a vacation; I’m not one of those people who needs to get away. Of course, a bad winter in Philly can make anybody wish for a beach and an umbrella drink. But the winter had been fairly mild, with less than a handful of notable storms, and I’d be happy just to work a regular, eight-hour day and do something fun with my Saturdays. Like sleep in, hit a movie, read a book, stay in my house. Getting my full weekends back was definitely something I looked forward to.

  Mary was enjoying a Danish of some sort when I entered, so I lost Leo to her immediately. I shook my head, headed into my office, and began my day.

  Eight more days…

  My nine o’clock client, Mr. Callan, was a notorious pain in my ass. He’d been a pain in my father’s ass for a decade before Dad retired. Now he was a pain in mine. Each April (because he always waited until April), after the insane amount of time I spent organizing the things he needed itemized, we had a discussion about what he should be doing differently throughout the year to make this process easier on both of us. And by “both of us,” I meant “me.” Each April, Mr. Callan nodded sagely, squinted at me like he was paying very close attention. Sometimes, he asked questions. One year, he even took notes. And then the next April, he’d show up with a mess, just like always. Receipts that didn’t apply. Missing receipts that should have applied. Things he’d remember at the last minute and blurt out just as I thought we’d finished. Irritation that I couldn’t miraculously ensure he’d get a refund (he never did). He was ridiculous, and I considered more than once firing him as a client.

  I never did. My dad wouldn’t like that.

  So, after spending three hours with Mr. Callan and not coming close to finishing, I had to send him on his way, because I knew we’d gone alarmingly far over his allotted time, and I had somebody waiting far beyond her scheduled appointment time. Mr. Callan continued to ask questions even as I ushered him through my door to the reception area.

  I glanced at sweet Mrs. Sargent, who was sitting patiently in a plastic chair, and she smiled at me without so much as a mention that I was half an hour late for our appointment. Thank God. She was like the epitome of everybody’s perfect grandma. Kind, gentle, serene. Just seeing her sitting there calmed my racing heart and boiling blood, and I took a moment to just breathe as Mr. Callan nodded to her and made his way out.

  “Hi there, Mrs. Sargent,” I finally said when I felt better. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Mrs. Sargent waved an eighty-five-year-old hand dismissively. “It’s no bother,” she said, as she got to her feet. “Mary gave me a very good cup of coffee and Leo kept me company.” I hadn’t noticed Leo at her feet, but he looked up at her then, with love in his brown eyes, and I chuckled. “My,” she said, as she got closer. “You look more like your mother every time I see you.”

  I thanked her, held out an arm, and let her lead the way into my office.

  The remainder of my day flew by, the rest of my clients being people I really enjoyed working for, people who reminded me why I loved my job, even at this crazy time of year. I loved the task of organizing and making sense of the chaos of people’s financial year. It was exhilarating.

  I waved as my last client of the day left my office. It was approaching eight, and Mary had left about an hour ago. Almost as if there was a camera in my office letting Brandon know I no longer had a client, the bassline of his music suddenly started up, loud and clear. I blew out a breath, but was a little taken aback to realize it didn’t bother me so much. I had no idea why, but I sat there and listened as I watched a few comings and goings in the parking lot, my head bopping to the music. As I listened a bit longer, I figured it to be a Flo Rida song I liked, super catchy and fun. I crossed my office to get a new pad out of my little closet, did a little butt wiggle on my way, surprising myself, as I normally didn’t dance. Then I was humming the tune. Leo glanced up at me from where he was napping in his bed and watched me critically as I put a few moves into action, dancing in the middle of my office.

  “Come on, Leo,” I said, pointing at him as I shimmied my shoulders. Nothing. He just stared at me, bored. “All right then. I’m gonna have to unlock these hips. Stand back.” I moved my pelvis around in a circle, then back and forth, staying perfectly with the beat, letting my body move almost as if on its own. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, my arms over my head, and danced in a full circle as I sang. And when I finished my circle and opened my eyes, I stumbled to a halt, a little squeak of surprise escaping me—before the mortification hit.

  Alicia stood in my doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the frame. A huge, satisfied smile stretched across her face.

  I was breathless now, and we stood, gazes locked, me breathing raggedly, her continuing to smile with glee.

  “Hi,” she said finally.

  “Hey.” I gave a lame wave.

  “And thank you for making my entire week with that performance.” Her expression was soft and friendly, and though she was teasing me, it felt gentle.

  “Hey, once in a while, a girl’s gotta cut loose. At least that’s what everyone insists on telling me.”

  “I completely agree.” She crossed the room to where my jacket hung and said, “That attitude will make things easier on me.” She held my jacket out to me. “Come on. We’re going out for a drink. I need one, and I bet you could use one as well.”

  I blinked at her, at a loss, as she stood before me in a shimmery silver top, sleek black dress pants, and heels, looking every bit the corporate entrepreneur, but with a generous helping of “extremely sexy” thrown in.

  “I really shouldn’t leave,” I said. “I’ve got—”

  “Work to do,” Alicia interrupted and made a rolling gesture with her hand. “I know. You tell me that every time, so get it out and then we can go. I have work, too, but you know what we’re doing? We’re living in the moment. Right here, right now, Chamberlain. Life is too short. Trust me, I know.” She shook my jacket. “Now let’s go. Gisele is next door. Leo can hang with her. We won’t be gone long, I promise. Just one drink.” She paused a moment, made a thinking face, then amended, “Possibly two.”

  What was it about her?

  Why did I find myself reaching for the jacket she handed me, despite my desire to resist? Flying by the seat of my pants makes me nervous and jerky. It makes me feel out of control, like I’m not c
alling the shots in my own life. Dramatic? Sure. I know this. But it’s who I am, and I probably needed to make that clearer to Ms. Wright. I needed to put my foot down. I thought about doing so the entire time I followed her and Leo to the Just Wright office and left him there. I thought about it all the way down the stairs and out into the cool of the evening. I considered it even as Alicia grasped my wrist and pulled me away from the parking lot and down the sidewalk instead. For the entire five-minute walk to Boomer’s, I shuffled through wording, phrases, the best way to tell Alicia that I didn’t appreciate her ordering me around.

  But you know what I realized? I kind of did.

  Not the ordering around part, necessarily, but the part of Alicia that stood up to me and my protests and said, “I understand, but let’s do this anyway.” I was starting to understand that I needed that in my life.

  Two bar stools stood vacant at the end of the bar, and I was led to them. It didn’t escape my notice how many heads turned to get a good eyeful of Alicia as we passed.

  Once on our stools, the bartender came right over, and his eyes might as well have been his hands the way they roamed over Alicia’s body. I squinted at him. He didn’t notice.

  “What can I get you ladies?” he asked. He was fairly handsome, with sandy hair and sparkling blue eyes, and I probably would’ve liked him immediately if I hadn’t been able to read his thoughts regarding what he’d like to do with the redheaded customer before him. Conversely, my hair could have been on fire and I don’t think he’d have given me a second glance.

  “What’s your house red?” Alicia asked.

  The bartender reached for a bottle and held it up for Alicia’s inspection. She gave a nod and held up two fingers.

  When the bartender went in search of a corkscrew, Alicia turned to me. “Long day?”

  “Yes, and it’ll be longer now that you’ve dragged me down here,” I said, feigning a curmudgeon attitude, even as I half hid a smile.