Myka and the Millionaire

by Alexis Alvarez

  “Well, sure, but looking hot is a nice extra. Speaking of hot—tell me about the guy. It’s about time you met somebody. Are you dating him?”

  Myka flushed. “Not exactly. We locked eyes on the street, then he followed me into the club and seduced me.”

  Lourdes choked on her granola. “Right there? You dirty whore.” She put her hand out for a high five.

  “No. Please.” Myka rolled her eyes and ignored the five. “I mean he snared me with his voice and his eyes. He knows Zen quotes, Lourdes. And he can banter about philosophy.” She put a hand on her heart and did a mock swoon. “And he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met. But he didn’t even really kiss me. Maybe he would have, but in the beginning he made a proposition-y sort of comment, and I didn’t want to be easy, so I said no. And then we talked for hours.”

  She applied lip gloss and glanced at Lourdes. Her friend had abandoned the granola bar and was examining a wrinkled pack of Raisinets. “He’s out of my league. He’s rich, like filthy I-don’t-have-to-work rich. Oh, and brilliant. I don’t feel like I match up.”

  Lourdes shook her head and her voice was somber. “Everyone matches up with someone. Why shouldn’t you be his?” She blinked and ran a finger over the edge of the basket, then wrapped her arms around herself.

  Myka shrugged. “Maybe he needs, you know, a PhD who’s a supermodel and who rescues animals in Tanzania and is a doctor and cures cancer, and sings opera. Not me.”

  Lourdes scoffed and her usual happy tone was back. “You’re a computer genius. And you don’t rescue wild beasts in Africa, but—you volunteered at a cat shelter once, right? And you’ve… listened to opera.”

  Myka agreed. “A few times, yeah. And I’ve not a supermodel, but I’ve watched the Victoria’s Secret Angel show on TV.”

  “And you’ve played doctor before, right?” Lourdes wiggled her eyebrows.

  Myka snorted. “You’re funny. So maybe it’s all good.”

  “See?” Lourdes came over and bumped Myka’s shoulder with hers. “Listen, if you like each other, then you match. Don’t overthink it. You’re always overthinking.”

  “Maybe he’s interested enough to pursue a second date, but he could get any woman he wants. I don’t want to be just a game to him.” Myka strapped on her best heels, took a look in the mirror. “Ready.”

  Lourdes clapped. “Awesome. Go get that job. I’ll walk out with you.” She handed Myka the rest of the granola bar and bent to pull on her boots. “In my generosity, I grant you this block of pure potential energy in case your blood sugar drops.”

  Myka laughed and stuffed it into her purse, smiling as they walked to the door. “I feel better already. Life is going to be more fun now that you’re back.”

  Lourdes shook her head. “First thing on the agenda is getting you moved out of this hotel. No offense, Myka, I mean, this suite is nice and all, but God. Why haven’t you bought a house yet? You saved all that money while we shared an apartment. Hey—why don’t you stay at my mom’s with me until you get your own place? You know she thinks of you like a daughter. We can go house-hunting together and give each other tips on neighborhoods and realtors and stuff. And we can hang out! It will be like old times.” Her voice was eager, with a note of something plaintive in a minor key.

  Myka adjusted her purse and checked her lipstick in the gilt mirror opposite the door. “You know why I stay here. Kylee pays us a huge bonus for staying so close to her, and reimburses the entire hotel cost on top of it. The money’s so crazy good, and if I save up a little more? I can risk starting out on my own without a steady salary when I launch my own consulting firm.” If Kylee stays sane long enough, a tiny voice uttered in the back of her head, and she pushed that thought away with discomfort.

  Lourdes’ voice was dark. “There are some things that aren’t worth the money, Myka. I know you’re thinking about how to be successful down the road, but haven’t you ever heard the phrase, stop and smell the roses? You have to have some balance. Make some time to enjoy life while it’s happening, instead of just planning to enjoy it all later once things match the perfect vision in your head.”

  “I do enjoy life. Like, right now!” Myka poked her friend. “This little lecture is so enjoyable that I’m practically orgasming right now, right here.”

  “Shut up.” Lourdes laughed, but got serious again. “I’m not joking, Mykes. You tend to focus on the long run so hard that you neglect the immediate moment.”

  Myka thought about that. “Okay. If it makes you happy, I’ll start house-hunting this weekend. God.”

  “No. Not to make me happy. To make you happy. Fulfilled.”

  “I’ll be fulfilled if I get this consulting job.” Myka pulled the door shut and heard it click, then wrinkled her nose. “Just wish me luck today. I need Aero Logistics on my resume.”

  Lourdes gave her a quick hug as the elevator opened. “Always.”

  * * *

  Myka’s palms were sweaty as she walked into the imposing two-story professional building. The far wall hosted the ‘Aero Logistics’ logo outlined in large white letters under a bold blue swoop, and the lobby décor was fancier than that of her luxury hotel. A handsome young man stepped up to greet her.

  “Myka? I’m Eric,” he said with a smile, offering a strong handshake, a glint of appreciation in his eye. “We all loved you on the phone, and were impressed with the work you emailed us.” He led her past the security desk with a wave at the guard, and ushered her down a hall with a pristine carpet and tasteful artwork to a small meeting room.

  Eric and two others interviewed her, separately and together, and Myka answered all of the questions fluently. She saw approval in their raised eyebrows and the way they darted nods to each other. She sweated a little when they asked her to write some code on the spot, but she was pleased with the result. At the end of three hours she was exhausted but confident, and to her delight, Eric offered her the job right there. She accepted, shaking his hand with pride.

  “You’ll come in next Monday to get your badge and start orientation,” he told her. “I’ll walk you back to the lobby, and I’ll email the team to let them know you accepted.”

  Myka picked up her laptop and walked with Eric back down the hall. She paused to sneak a glance through an open door where a group of people were clustered around a laptop, pointing and murmuring. There were no room-temperature Evian bottles or triplicate cans of soda in sight, and nobody was pitching a fit. It looked amazing.

  Eric touched her shoulder. “I didn’t think he’d be on site today, but I saw our aerospace expert. He coaches us on project development and has been helping vet all of our candidates. I know he already approved you, so I imagine you’ll work well together. We’ll say hi quickly, okay?”

  “Of course,” agreed Myka, doing an internal fist bump with herself. Eric must have liked her work if he already forwarded her résumé to this consultant.

  “Great. So follow me?” Eric pointed.

  “Absolutely.” Myka adjusted her laptop case on her shoulder and straightened her back as Eric jogged up ahead around a bend and called, “Gabe. Wait up.” Her heart leapt as she turned the corner, because the man walking toward them, tall and handsome in a tailored suit, was none other than Gabriel Chevalier.

  “Myka. It’s good to see you again.” Gabriel stuck out his hand and Myka gave hers over automatically, feeling the zing of attraction between them as he pressed her fingers.

  “Gabriel. What are you doing here?” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat.

  Eric spoke. “Gabriel told me you two met the other night. Now that you’re officially on board, Gabe can update you on project details. If you have time?” He looked questioningly at Gabriel and Myka. “Or you can set up a meeting next week.”

  Myka’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “I have time. I’ll walk her out when we’re done,” Gabriel told Eric smoothly.

  “Myka, congratulations again. I’m looking forward to working with you!
” Eric shook her hand and trotted down the hallway, checking his watch.

  Myka crossed her arms and glared at Gabriel, an uneasy feeling settling into her stomach. “What did he mean, we met the other night?”

  His voice held a chuckle. “Don’t you remember meeting me in the club? We discussed the intricate relationship of pleasure and pain. We nearly… danced.”

  “I remember. But how did you know you were meeting Myka the interviewee? Not Myka, the woman?”

  His smile disappeared. “I knew who you were before we spoke. The team mailed me your résumé, wanting advice. They’re talented engineers and designers, but they’ve made bad hiring choices. They found you so exceptional that it almost seemed fake. They wanted me to check you out from a personal standpoint. This is a high-stakes project for powerful clients.”

  “So you stalked me? That’s why you talked to me? Flirted with me? Even asked me to dinner? Just to sneak-check my credentials with some undercover psychological assessment? I thought we—God.” Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she ducked her head abruptly. “Talk about the end justifying the means,” she snapped.

  His face was tight. “Originally I meant to call you Saturday, explain who I was, and meet you for a short behavioral interview. Formal. But when I heard that girl call your name on the street that night, Myka, I looked—and I saw you.”

  His eyes were liquid, his mouth sensual. “I wanted to meet you. I spoke to you, and found you fascinating. I thought, maybe you were the interviewee as well? It’s an unusual name. Our conversation confirmed it.”

  Myka swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you realized?”

  Gabriel hesitated. “I don’t know.” The words seemed to surprise him. “I suppose I wanted to keep talking to you as a man to a woman. Telling you about the interview would ruin the moment.”

  “Oh, and it’s not ruined now?” Myka’s voice was hard.

  “Every word I said to you was genuine, Myka. I asked you to dinner because I want to spend time with you. The fact that I was assessing you for the job as well?” He shrugged. “I determined that you were honest, intelligent, and driven. I told Eric I had no reservations from an interpersonal standpoint.”

  Myka didn’t look at him. “You deceived me. I don’t like being checked out on the sly. There’s no way I can work with you now. I can’t take the job after all.”

  “You won’t have to work with me,” he responded. “My contributions to the project are mostly finished. You’ll see me from time to time at update meetings, but that’s it.”

  Myka scowled at him. “I want this job. But I don’t like being treated with mistrust.”

  “But that was before we knew you. Now we do.” His eyes were dark, unreadable. “You were assessing me as well, weren’t you? Did I meet your qualifications?”

  She made her tone sharp. “Before, you did. But now, I don’t know.”

  “You already accepted the job. I don’t think you’re going to decline it. You’re too sensible and dedicated to your career.” He crossed his arms, and Myka wanted to punch him for his smug arrogance.

  She opened her mouth in complete frustration, but he spoke first. “Myka, I meant it—every minute I spent with you was a pleasure. Asking you to dinner had nothing to do with the job.” He put one hand on her cheek and brushed it over her skin, and Myka burned at his touch.

  “Do not even talk to me about dinner anymore,” she snapped, pushing his hand away, even as she wanted to grab it and push him to the floor, press her body to his. “Actually,” she added, changing her mind, “I’d like to know exactly what was going to happen at that dinner. Were you going to sleep with me before you told me the truth about your duplicity? Did you think I’d be all cool with it?” She made her voice high and feminine. “Oh, thanks for secretly spying on me! I’m so glad my social skills and my ass pass the test, Gabriel. Now that I aced the background check, do you want to fuck me?”

  Gabriel’s eyes grew dark and his jaw clenched. “Myka.” His voice was hard. “That’s not—”

  She shook her head. “Oh, is that inappropriate? Was I creating, what do the HR manuals say, a hostile work environment? Well, what do you think you created by tricking me?”

  He took her hand. “I apologize, once again. I can’t change it. Can we start over?” He sounded sincere, but Myka was angry. She stalked to the door and Gabriel followed. He put his hand on her shoulder and the warmth flooded her with arousal, and she mentally kicked herself for such weakness.

  “Call me tomorrow,” he told her, his voice intense. “Let me know what you decide. About the job, and about dinner.”

  She hopped into a cab, willing herself not to look back. But she couldn’t resist and he met her eyes, a serious expression on his face. She whipped her head around, fuming. Despite her anger, she still wanted him, and that made her even angrier.

  Myka spent the rest of the day irritable and distracted. She spoke curtly to Kylee during their “here are twenty-seven things you need to get done by tomorrow” chat, and then excused herself from the regular club dance outing, telling Kylee that she needed time alone.

  * * *

  The next day found Myka buried in her laptop, trying to distract herself from yesterday’s unpleasant revelation. She wasn’t going to give up the aerospace consulting dream job. But it burned her gut to say it to Gabriel, so she avoided calling him. Eric, after all, was her hiring manager; why should Gabriel get any updates?

  It was hours since she’d looked up, and her fingers still danced busily over the keys, working on website updates and program changes for the next show. Fans claimed that Kylee’s shows rivaled the light performances at Disneyland, and it was Myka who controlled the computers behind the magic. In addition, she was the webmaster for Kylee’s website, and there were frequent changes needed from multiple contributors, as well as Kylee’s capricious and copious stylistic demands that resulted in periodic overnighters for Myka.

  Finally needing a break, she rubbed her fingers and yawned, and padded over to the window to check the sky. Dusk settled above and traffic swirled below, the cars small and powerless from her vantage point, toys. She thought about getting dinner; tried not to think about Gabriel and how he’d spied on her. How she still wanted him with every fiber of her being.

  Before she had a chance to decide about food, she got an urgent call from Kylee. She used her keycard to take the elevator to the master suite, got the nod from the bodyguards, and knocked on Kylee’s door. “It’s me,” she called. “Myka. Can I come in?”

  The door swung open to reveal Kylee’s face. “Myka!” Her voice was high and her words tumbled over each other, rocks pouring down a hillside. “I don’t like that you skipped the club last night and I keep having these… just all of these thoughts that bother me, and I don’t know how to, like, make them stop.”

  Myka took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s sit down. We’ll figure out what to do, all right?” She put her arm around Kylee and led her to a thick floral couch with smooth silk fabric. Kylee looked small in her oversized sweatshirt and leggings, like an adolescent.

  “What’s going on?” Myka asked, keeping her voice even, although she felt like screaming, “I am not equipped to handle you!” She imagined shaking Kylee like a ragdoll until her brain rattled around and somehow resettled into a normal groove. The violence of the image jarred her, but something about Kylee seemed to require strength and manipulations well beyond Myka’s abilities, sending sick frustration through her.

  “I keep thinking about a gray fog that is thick and moves like a blob animal,” said Kylee. “When I think about singing on stage, all I can see is the fog. It has red eyes, like an angry wolf at night. And it’s, like, coming to suffocate me. I start panicking and my heart races.” Kylee wrapped her hands together. “Am I, like, messed up forever? Dancing makes the fog go away for a while. That’s why I always need to go to the clubs. But I can’t do it forever. Why is this happening?” She shot a sidelong glance at Myka.

/>   Myka kept her voice even. “These thoughts are not normal, and they’re not part of you. We can make them go away. But I can’t do it by myself, and you can’t do it by yourself. You need help from a doctor.”

  “No doctors. I told you before!” Kylee’s voice rose. She coughed.

  “The thing is,” Myka continued, trying to sound convincingly enticing, “the doctor can give you medicine to help the thoughts go away, or at least help you relax. Then can maybe you try talk therapy? This is fixable. You don’t need to live this way. “

  “Medicine?” Kylee blinked and argued, “But a new doctor is going to say that I’m, like, crazy. People will find out, and nobody will listen to my music. My mom will say I’m a loser like my dad, and she’ll tell my sisters never to talk to me again.”

  “Is that what happened with your dad?”

  Kylee nodded. “He had a nervous breakdown or something, and mom divorced him, and she never lets him see us. If anyone finds out that I have—problems—bad things will happen to me, too. And I can’t, like, bear it.” Her shoulders started shaking and she hid her face in her hands. “My mom’s a lawyer, and she’s mean. When she calls, she yells at me to set a good example in the media, like I could control that. I don’t even want to—I mean, I love singing but I’m scared,” she wailed.

  “It’s going to be okay,” soothed Myka, patting Kylee’s hand.

  “Do you really think a doctor could help?” Kylee asked, retracting the hand and picking at her fingernail. For all the sobbing, her eyes were dry.

  “Of course,” assured Myka.

  Kylee was adamant. “I just want to be happy again.” Then her voice sweetened. “Do you have, like, a doctor friend that could come see me confidentially, without anyone knowing? Not my manager or my mom? You can see how upset I am, right?”

  “I can see. Listen, how about we call Christopher.” Myka latched onto the idea of Kylee’s manager, who was also Myka’s official boss on paper, even though Kylee made most of the decisions. He was supposed to be in charge—let him take care of this. But Kylee didn’t seem to care for that idea at all.