by Tia Siren
“You guys are great! Thanks so much,” I said, faking enthusiasm. The cake had my name scrawled across it.
“Gabe brought that in,” Tina announced.
“Oh, I’ll have to thank him.”
“He’s already gone. Flew down to Phoenix. Trying to get your show on some stations down there,” Tina said.
Tina knew everything that went on in the office. She was the one you went to when you wanted to know something.
“I’ll text him,” I said.
Tina grabbed a knife from a drawer in the mini-kitchen. “You have to blow out the candles,” she said, holding the knife up.
I fought back the urge to roll my eyes, and like a good boy, I went through the whole process. When she handed me a slice of cake, I took it but only ate a few bites before saying I would eat it in my office. As soon as I was in my office, I tossed it in the trash. I didn’t do cake or sweets in general. I turned my attention to my day and got lost in work.
“Ready to go?” Jaxon said, stopping by my office.
I looked at the clock. “Shit. I didn’t realize how late it was. I’m ready. Get me out of here.”
We took a car to one of our favorite bars. It was a bit more upscale, but the bar flies were still plentiful. I avoided them like the plague. I’d made the mistake of hooking up with one years ago. They were social climbers, and once they got their claws sunk in, they tended to cling. It had been like removing a wart once I decided to cut ties.
“Beer or whiskey?” Jaxon asked, sitting at one of the ridiculously tiny tables.
“Why do they make these tables so damn small? What’s the fucking point? It’s like something out of the Jetsons,” I complained.
“Whiskey it is.”
I was in a shit mood. I officially hated birthdays.
“Only one drink,” I said, not wanting to get hammered on a weekday.
“Sure. Two Jack and Cokes,” Jaxon said to the waitress.
“Thanks for doing this. Sorry I’m being such a dick. This birthday shit sucks.”
He chuckled. “Dude, I’m pushing forty. Trust me, I know.”
I stared at Jaxon. He was a successful salesman. He was wealthy, and I guessed women found him attractive. He was also single. Jaxon said it was his choice; he didn’t want to be tied down.
“Why are we single?” I asked.
He grinned. “Because there are too many beautiful ladies to pick just one.”
“Seriously. Don’t you want a family? A wife? The whole picket-fence thing?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not my thing. I like coming and going as I please. I like being able to do what I want without checking in.”
I nodded. “There is that.”
“Drink up,” he ordered when the waitress brought our drinks. “You need to get drunk. You’re bringing me down.”
“I can’t get drunk.”
He smirked. “You can. You choose not to. Do an extra mile on the treadmill.”
It wasn’t long before the first drink was gone. We didn’t have to order a second round. Two blondes, wearing tiny little skirts and even tinier tank tops, had sauntered over with fresh drinks.
“Can we join you boys?”
Jaxon smiled, winked at me, and got up to drag another two chairs over to our table. I was worried there wouldn’t be enough room on the table for our four drinks.
Before my second drink was gone, Jaxon ordered a third. He was trying to get me drunk. The woman he’d claimed was hanging on him like a bad rash. The other woman kept trying to touch me, but I made it clear I wasn’t interested.
Halfway through the third drink, Jaxon decided he needed to get home in a hurry. His lady friend had her hand under the table, which, considering the size of said table, was doing very little to hide his erection.
“We better get out of here before you get the cops called on us,” I said dryly.
He grinned. “Call us a car, babe,” he whispered in the woman’s ear loud enough for the entire bar to hear.
“I better get my own,” I mumbled.
As usual, Jaxon had picked up a woman on one of our nights out. He usually did. I didn’t mind. I wasn’t innocent, but more selective.
“See you tomorrow, Brad. Happy birthday—again,” Jaxon said, as we strolled out of the bar.
“Have fun,” I replied, finding my ride and crawling in the back seat. I had a good buzz going. As the driver weaved in and out of traffic, I let the buzz run my thoughts. That was not the best choice.
My thoughts drifted into my memory bank and selected memories I had filed away years ago and never pulled out unless I was shit-faced. I didn’t think I was shit-faced, but I was in a fucked-up mood. I closed my eyes and Mia’s face was there.
I smiled, remembering the way she looked. I had missed her like crazy for years, then eventually it had faded to an occasional memory now and then. Soon enough, she was gone from my daily thoughts. I hadn’t thought about her in a long time. Today, I turned thirty-five. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mia had found happiness. I felt like an asshole for never calling or checking in with her. A month turned into three months, and then it was a year, and before I knew it, it had been four years, maybe longer. I couldn’t remember the last time we had talked. Despite all those promises, she had never visited me in LA and I had never gone back to New York.
“We’re here, sir,” the driver said from the front seat.
“Thanks,” I said, getting out of the car and looking up at the high-rise building I called home.
I climbed into the elevator and pushed the button for the twenty-third floor. I wasn’t in the penthouse—yet. Maybe one day, if that was still my goal. I wasn’t sure it was.
As I stepped through the door of my apartment, the emptiness had never felt so suffocating. I wondered if Mia was married. Did she go home to an empty apartment every night? Did she have any kids? Maybe she was a soccer mom living upstate in some big house with a big front yard. The last I knew, she had just gotten hired on as writer for some fashion magazine. I had no idea if she was still there.
It was my thirty-fifth birthday. Did she remember? I couldn’t help but think about that last night we spent together. We had made a pact I didn’t think either of us had actually thought would be called upon. I certainly hadn’t. Mia was a beautiful woman. I figured she’d be married or at least involved in a serious relationship. I was the loser in the equation. I was the one who couldn’t find a woman.
I was the one sitting alone in my apartment on my birthday and daydreaming about a woman I had only had sex with once.
I grinned. That was entirely true. It had only been one night, but multiple rounds. That night was burned into my memory. I could recall every detail about the way she smelled, the little gasps she made when I was pushing inside her, the way her eyes closed and her mouth formed a little O shape when she was on the verge of an orgasm.
I groaned at the memory of that night. It had been sweet and hot at the same time. I had left in the morning before she’d woken up. I’d thought I was saving us both that awkward morning-after experience. I had packed my bag and gotten on the plane to LA without a word. It was a dick move, but I’d been afraid if I had stayed and woken up with her in my arms, I would have never left. I did what I thought was best at the time.
Stripping naked, I flopped on my back on my big king-size mattress. My eyes closed, and it was her face I saw as I let the buzz carry me into sleep.
Chapter Four
Mia
It had been another long day. We had all busted our asses to get our articles to print on time. The rest of the writers and editors had gone out for drinks. I’d chosen not to. I should have. I had somehow fostered a reputation for being a stuffy, stuck-up bitch. It was one of those things that had just happened. I wasn’t a big drinker and I didn’t even like most of the people I worked with. Turned out I was a bitch.
My eyes drifted to my calendar. May twelfth. It was a day I couldn’t forget. I had tried, many times. No matter h
ow hard I pretended the day was just another day, I couldn’t. It was Brad’s birthday. The scoundrel.
I had been dumb enough to sleep with him. No matter how many times he had promised he wouldn’t, he got weird. The man had turned out to be like all the rest. We had sex and he got all weird and ran away and never called again. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d sent some text messages and we exchanged silly Facebook Christmas cards and crap like that, but it had never been meaningful. It had all turned out exactly as I had known it would. He left and that chapter of my life was over.
“Happy Birthday, Brad,” I whispered into the empty office. I remembered the many birthday celebrations we had shared together. Those had been the best times of my life. I would always hold those memories close, but life marched on.
“Hey! You’re still here,” Tara said. “You going to meet at Bruiser’s?”
I shook my head. “No. I still have a lot of work to do. Then I have a hot date with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and my couch.”
“Mia, you never go out. Why not?”
I shrugged a shoulder. I truly had no good answer to offer. “It’s just not my scene. You guys are all younger than me. I always feel like the old lady.”
Tara threw her blond hair back and laughed. “You’re, like, five years older than me.”
“I’m just not the kind of girl who likes the bar scene. I prefer to be home in my jammies.”
“I take that back. You are old. Do you put curlers in your hair?” she teased.
“Ha ha. Have fun. I don’t want to see a bunch of hangovers tomorrow. Be responsible,” I called out in a sing-song voice.
“Oh God,” she groaned. “When did you become my grandmother?”
I smiled but didn’t answer. It had happened years ago. I had been out with some of the girls from work and realized I wasn’t having fun. I wasn’t enjoying the excessive flirting and the musical bed game. It had all seemed so childish and pointless.
I was approaching thirty-five. My ovaries were drying up and taking the eggs with them. I had always put off finding a relationship. Now here I was on the verge of menopause. I would never have kids.
The thought was depressing. I closed my laptop, slid it into my bag, and grabbed my purse. I really needed to go home and drown my sorrows in a pint of rocky road. I would call it my tribute to Brad’s birthday. I was eating ice cream to celebrate the big day.
“You headed out, hon?” asked the older woman who cleaned up and generally kept the busy office running smoothly as I walked by the break room.
“I am.”
“It’s okay,” she said with a knowing look.
“Excuse me?”
“Not going out with all those young, anxious hopefuls. They are all hoping to find that hookup that gets them to your level. You don’t need that kind of thing,” she said with a serious look on her face.
My brain whirred as I tried to remember her name. I was a stuck-up snob. I couldn’t remember her name. “Thank you. I think I was once one of those young, energetic people.”
“You were. You were one of the most anxious young women I’ve seen come through those doors in a long time. Unlike the rest of them, you had something else—real talent.”
“You’re very kind. Thank you.”
The older woman nodded. I felt terrible that I couldn’t remember her name. I didn’t even realize she had worked here that long. I had only recently noticed her.
“Judith,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Judith. I’ve been working for Helga since she was your age. I don’t have a job title. I’m just the lady who takes care of all the little things that maintenance doesn’t do and secretaries refuse,” she said with a smile.
I nodded and smiled. “Your work is invaluable. Thank you for all you do, Judith.”
“Take care, Mia. Things will get better,” she promised.
I gave her a strange look, certain I hadn’t said things were bad. I must’ve had a look on my face that revealed how bummed I was.
With a wave, I headed for the elevator. As I rode down the many floors, I took stock of my life. I was a successful writer for a successful fashion magazine. My word was gold in the fashion industry. I had climbed the ladder and felt as if I’d made it. I had arrived. Here I was at the top of the world and completely alone with no one to share my joy and success with. Except my mom. My mom was thrilled. That had to count for something. Didn’t it?
My night inside my luxury apartment was as expected: boring and totally comfortable. The following morning, I had managed to get rid of most of the melancholy. Brad’s birthday had triggered that pity party.
I couldn’t really complain about my life. I loved my life. I loved my closet even more. I grinned as I pulled open the double doors. It wasn’t actually a closet by normal standards. It was the spare room in the apartment transformed into a closet. I had paid a ton of money to have the space completely remodeled. I even had a small settee in the center I could sit on and contemplate what I wanted to wear.
Most of the stuff hanging in the closet had been given to me by various designers and young hopefuls, anticipating I would wear their stuff and write about it. Sometimes I did, and sometimes it went straight to the donation pile. I had more clothes than a well-stocked Barney’s. Whenever I was feeling down, I grabbed a cocktail and hung out in my closet.
Now dressed for the day, my earlier sadness forgotten, I headed into work.
“Hi, Helga,” I said, knocking on my boss’s door.
“Come in, come in,” she said, pushing aside stacks of papers on her desk.
The woman was a train wreck. She had to be the most disorganized woman on the face of the planet. Despite her hectic appearance and rather awkward personality, she was an extremely successful woman. She was the face of fashion. She wasn’t like an Anna Wintour but was equally famous and successful.
“I just wanted to stop by before I headed out to that launch.”
She nodded, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Yes, yes. Today?”
“Yes. I’ll be out of the office all day.”
“Okay, good,” she said, looking around her sprawling office. She wasn’t actually looking for anything. It was just what she did. She was always looking for something, but nothing. It was part of her quirky personality.
“Do you know anything about this launch?” I asked, curious as to who’s it was. I had very little information on the designer. I knew he was fresh out of school and here from Seattle.
She shook her head. “No. Nothing. That’s great, right. We need fresh and new. There has to be that one guy or gal out there. We’ve got to be the magazine that shines a light on the next big thing. We can’t lose our edge,” she lectured.
“I understand. Hopefully, this is it. I’ll give you a call and let you know if it looks promising.”
The woman continued pacing her office, looking for something. “Good, good. You do that,” she said absently.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” I told her, walking away and leaving her to whatever it was she was looking for. The woman’s disorganization was astonishing. I had no idea how anyone as successful as her could be so completely unorganized. It was one of those mysteries that would likely never be solved.
“Have a good time,” she called out.
I laughed. No wonder Helga had Judith. I had a feeling Judith was the only reason Helga functioned and stayed on top of things as well as she did. I used to have a Judith. It got too annoying for me. I did have an assistant, but she stayed out of my way. She wasn’t all up in my business and constantly yakking in my ear about where I should be or who had called. It was an efficient system. Every morning she left a sheet of paper on my desk letting me know about any appointments, lunch dates, or events that evening. I rarely saw the woman, which was fine by me.
When I showed up at the factory where the new designer was hosting his big launch, I grimaced. The latest trend in fashion shows did not thrill me. The designe
rs went out of their way to find the scariest buildings in the city to host their debuts. It was supposed to be edgy, but I found it scary and difficult to concentrate on what I was seeing.
“Hello!” a handsome, young man said, opening the massive warehouse door. “You’re Mia Hunter!”
I smiled. “I am. You are?”
“I’m George’s assistant. He’s putting the final touches on his designs.”
Walking inside the warehouse, I did my best not to cringe. The man had created a makeshift runway with folding chairs in a row on either side. It wasn’t exactly luxury accommodations, but everyone had to get their start somewhere. The use of the warehouse had probably cost him a small fortune.
“You’re our guest of honor. Please have a seat,” the young man said, walking me to one of the folding chairs near the end of the runway.
I smiled at the other men and women already seated. I recognized a few of them. They were mostly fashion bloggers, and one was from a competing magazine. That was not a good sign. I was going to have to ask my assistant why she’d added this to my calendar. This could have been covered by one of the junior columnists.
“I’m David,” the attractive young man said. “I have to tell you, you’re stunning. I’ve seen you at other shows and your picture by your column of course, but seeing you up close is a totally different experience.”
I smiled. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”
Inside, I was doing cartwheels. The guy had to be in his early twenties and was very good looking, and here he was flirting with me. It gave me a boost of confidence while helping to soothe away the anxiety I had felt yesterday. Yes, I was pushing midlife, but I still had it.
“The show’s about to start. Maybe I can give you my number in case you have any questions about the show?” he said with a grin I recognized for what it was.
“Thank you. If I have any questions, my assistant will get in touch with you,” I said as politely as possible. He was cute, but I wasn’t into younger guys.