In Search of Mr. Anonymous

by J B Glazer

  I flop down on my couch with a sigh. Another date that’s a bust. And I thought this one held promise. We exchanged messages a handful of times and had a flirty banter going. But it was clear after a few minutes our chemistry didn’t translate past the screen.

  I hope Lucy’s having better luck. I check my phone to see if she’s texted me. Nothing yet about her big night: her one-night stand. Lucy Chalmers is my best friend. We met at sleepaway camp when we were ten years old. I had done the Rookie session the summer before, so I knew some of the girls already. I liked them, but there was drama. Who was going to bunk with who, who would sit next to each other during campfire, that sort of thing. One of the reasons I went away to camp was to avoid the drama. There was enough of that back at school. But it felt like I walked right into it.

  When I met Lucy I could tell she was different. Quiet but insightful. We latched onto one another and didn’t look back. She’s like a sister to me. While she’s an only child, I actually have two sisters already, both younger. But there’s a big age gap among us. Rachel, the older of the two, is five years younger than me. And there’s a seven-year age gap between me and Riley, the baby of the family. My mom and dad were content with just me for a while. When they finally decided they were ready for another they had trouble getting pregnant. Hence, the age gap. When I was in my last year of elementary school Rachel was just entering Kindergarten. I took on more of a mothering role instead of a confidante. And I was in Junior High when Riley was born. Let’s just say she was a good form of birth control. Anyway, I’m closer with my sisters now. But it’s like we live in totally different worlds.

  I’m lucky to have another sister in Lucy. I check my phone again but still no word. I shoot her a text to see what’s up. Lucy doesn’t sleep around, so it’s crazy to me that she agreed to this bet. It’s mind blowing, actually. I’m dying to know what’s happening. Unlike Lucy, I have no problem sleeping with someone I’m not in a relationship with. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with being selective. But I’m thirty-three and not getting any younger. So I like to keep myself active to avoid my lady parts going into hibernation. Seriously. It could happen.

  Ever since high school I haven’t had the best of luck with men. Back then I was a bit of a stalker. I think it’s because my crushes sent me mixed messages. Naturally I had to investigate to figure out what was going on. I had a big thing for Chase Emerson. I used to drive by his house on my way home from school, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I’d call him and hang up just to hear his voice. Those were pre-caller ID days. Anyway, he kind of strung me along. So I may have stalked him a bit. But in my defense he led me to believe there was something between us. I think he liked the attention. He’d do things like invite me over then often cancel at the last minute. He was super apologetic about it and always had a valid excuse. He brought me flowers on my birthday—calla lilies, my favorite. He shoveled our walk when my dad’s back went out. Sweet gestures he’d do in private. It wasn’t so far-fetched that I’d be encouraged or think maybe he returned my feelings. But at school he maintained his distance when his friends were around. Then I got a head nod or a “hey” or “’s up.” Except when he wanted to borrow my notes or “check” his homework against mine. Like an idiot, I let him do those things—take advantage of me. But it didn’t feel that way at the time. I just basked in any attention he was willing to give. Pathetic, I know.

  I finally worked up the nerve to ask him to Turnabout. He said maybe—he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go to the dance. When in reality he had me on the backburner in case someone better came along. He eventually said yes. I was ecstatic. I bought the perfect dress, shoes, and booked my hair and nail appointments. The week before he canceled. He said something came up, when in reality he meant someone. He went to the dance with Katie Richmond. Not one to be deterred, I went with my girlfriends. I got to watch him make out with Katie. Let’s just say it made for a memorable night. I felt like the fool he played me for, but I vowed to learn from my mistake. That put an end to my “Chasing Chase” period.

  I dated a guy junior year who cheated on me. Of course I was the last to know. But I held out hope for love. I don’t think it would be fair to write off all men for the mistakes of a few. So I looked forward to college and meeting more mature men. I discovered maturity and college boys don’t go hand-in-hand. I went out with lots of frat guys—nothing serious—until Gavin. He changed my outlook. He was a poet, like Lucy, and wrote the most beautiful poems that left me in awe. I think I’ve always been drawn to people who are writers. He was deep and profound and unlike any man I’d met before. I should’ve known. As it turns out I wasn’t the one he was in love with. Once again, I was just a stepping stone. And once again, I ended up with a broken heart.

  I’ve dated guys since but it’s been a long time since I’ve fallen in love. Maybe it’s because my guard is up. I’m trying to stay open to the possibility and not let my past mistakes color my outlook. I want to fall—hopelessly and completely. But I won’t be that naïve girl anymore. If that means keeping someone like Brett around so be it. Brett and I have a no-strings attached arrangement and hook up every once in a while. We have zero feelings for one another, so that takes out the complication of emotions getting involved. It’s my turn to have someone waiting on the backburner. Maybe knowing I have him even though it’s only physical makes me feel less alone. Or gives me the security to venture outside of my comfort zone because he’s my fallback. He and Lucy. He meets my physical needs and she meets my emotional ones. Together, they are the perfect combo. Maybe I don’t need more.

  But tonight, I do.

  I’m restless because the night ended sooner than expected. So I text Brett to see if he’ll come over. He usually responds back right away. But it’s a good twenty minutes before I hear from him. When I do he says he’ll by over by eleven. Great. And my legs are already shaved, so that’s a bonus. I freshen up then change back out of my PJs, which is silly considering my clothes will be coming off again soon. But still, I want to look presentable.

  My phone buzzes and it’s my doorman letting me know that Brett’s in the lobby. “Send him up,” I tell him. I open the door and he walks in and plants a scorching kiss on my lips before heading straight for my bedroom. I haven’t seen him in a few months but we have no problem getting reacquainted.

  Chapter 3

  Lucy

  The Aviary is crowded with a mix of professionals, hipsters, and couples who I’m guessing are celebrating a special occasion. Trish and I are in a cocktail lounge area that’s partitioned from the bar by a dramatic floor to ceiling birdcage, where the bartenders are mixing what I can only describe as concoctions. The set-up is reminiscent of a science lab, complete with billowing plumes of white smoke. Trish and I marvel at the gorgeous and inventive cocktails where presentation is paramount. My favorite is a tropical looking, deep purple drink in an elegant teapot shaped glass.

  “You picked the perfect place,” I tell Trish. “Though I don’t want to know how much my drink costs.”

  “Of course I did. I knew you’d appreciate the attention to detail. And don’t worry, this one’s on Blooms. At some point let’s talk business and I’ll write it off as an expense. Consider it a thank you for all the business you’ve sent our way.”

  “Claude has deeper pockets than I thought. I’ll remember that the next time I ask you for a quote,” I joke. “But seriously, how were you able to get us in on such short notice?”

  Trish looks at me like I’m crazy. “Hello? I have connections.”

  I laugh and take a sip of my drink. It’s smooth with a hint of spice, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Trish fills me in on what’s been going on with her and I do the same. Though outside of work there isn’t much to tell.

  “So, I want to hear all about the pitch. But first, how are things with Charlotte? Did she go all psycho on you?” She takes my wrist and lifts up my arm, inspecting it.

  “What are you doing?”
r />   “Checking for claw marks.”

  “You’re terrible,” I tell her as I readjust my sleeve.

  “But not as terrible as Charlotte.”

  Trish cannot stand working with Charlotte. I get it. While she’s a royal pain in the ass, I don’t have to deal with her that often. We’re coworkers but for the most part there is a separation between bridal and corporate. Trish, on the other hand, is on the receiving end.

  When we started working together, Trish and I bonded over our shared appreciation of all things Charlotte. Frankly I think it’s why she and I became friends. Charlotte is a southern belle and puts on this sweet air when you meet her, but look out. Like a snake waiting to strike its prey, she is venomous if you cross her. Or don’t do something exactly as she asked. Or better yet, told. I have no clue how her husband deals with her.

  “She’s been quiet, which kind of scares me. Most of the day she’s locked away in her office. Probably plotting revenge against us all.”

  “Or just you,” Trish quips.

  “I’d throw my drink at you if it weren’t so delicious. Anyway, sorry I haven’t had a chance to return your calls. Things have been insane at the office and I knew I’d see you tonight.”

  “I figured. Tell me everything.”

  I think back to that day just over a week ago. The countless hours spent preparing, the heated exchanges between Charlotte and, well, everyone, and the nervous energy in the hours before Veronica and Rob arrived. Fortunately for me I stayed out of most of the drama. I attended some of the initial brainstorming sessions because Don wanted, and I quote, ‘to squeeze out every ounce of creativity I can muster.’ But after that I kept my head down and focused on my own events. It was Don’s idea to pull me into the meeting. As you can imagine, Charlotte was less than thrilled. I believe I was the subject of one of those heated exchanges. In the end, Charlotte relented and said I could attend. Not that Don gave her much of a choice. It was the best decision he’s ever made. He told me so himself.

  When Rob and Veronica arrived Don greeted them personally. With Charlotte in tow, he gave them a tour of our office space and then led them to the conference room, where the team was waiting. He introduced them to Genevieve, our lead graphic designer, Charles, our fabricator, and Calvin, our head of IT/lighting. “And this is Lucy,” he said, gesturing to me. “She’s one of our senior planners and will be taking over Charlotte’s projects when she’s out on maternity leave.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Veronica murmured.

  I smiled and shook her proffered hand. I was struck by how tall she was, even in flats. I’m five foot seven and she had a good inch on me. She and Rob made a gorgeous couple. They looked coordinated and photoshoot-ready, he in his light blue button-down, and she in a cap-sleeve vintage blue dress paired with neutral sandals. She brushed a strand of her long, dark hair over her shoulder, and that’s when I noticed her ring. I tried not to gawk, but it was gorgeous. A solitaire round stone that had to be at least three carats set high in an antique setting. I’ve seen my share of rings, but hers was a standout.

  “Please, sit down,” Don said, pulling out her chair. Rob stood until she was seated and then placed his arm around her shoulder. Don proceeded to uncork a bottle of Cristal and offered each of them a glass. He then made a toast and thanked them for giving Dreams the opportunity to plan their dream day. I assume the pun was intended.

  “Before you begin your presentation I want to thank you as well,” said Veronica. “I know we didn’t give you an ideal amount of time to pull something together. I apologize for that as I recognize there is a lot that goes into an event of this magnitude. I’m grateful to each of you for putting in the effort and hope you didn’t have to make too many sacrifices on our behalf.”

  “Nonsense,” said Don. “We are honored to have the chance to make this day memorable for you both. It’s what we do.” Everyone nodded their assent.

  “I noticed. Both Rob and I were impressed by the personal touch that’s evident in each of your events. We’re excited to see what ideas you have for us.” She made eye contact with each person at the table as she spoke. I must say, Veronica impressed me. She was genuine, poised, and has a social grace about her. She struck me as the type who would know just the right thing to say in any situation. I have no such talent and envied her a little.

  With the pleasantries out of the way, Don turned the floor over to Charlotte. Teetering on her too high heels, she looked quite a sight, even for Charlotte. Her blond hair was loosely pulled back in a chignon with perfectly placed tendrils framing her face. She wore a black sheath dress with an elegant pearl neckline, which I assume was intentional to draw the eye up and mask her pregnant belly. Charlotte presented our vintage lace mood board first. When we were brainstorming she kept emphasizing how Veronica wanted a shabby chic feel. We all really felt that we nailed it. She went through the color scheme and proposed floral arrangements, to which Veronica gave a polite nod. My gut told me she wasn’t connecting with our approach. Don sensed it too and asked Veronica what she thought so far. “It’s really beautiful. You captured the essence of what we discussed: classic, sophisticated, and elegant.”

  “But,” prodded Don.

  “I can picture it all. Just not for our wedding. I feel that I led you astray. It’s what I thought I wanted. But now that I’m seeing it, something’s missing. I guess I’m still hung up on the fact that it’s not outdoors.”

  “I thought you agreed upfront that wasn’t practical. You do realize it would be hard to pull off on New Year’s Eve in Chicago, right?” Charlotte asked.

  “I’m not sure I agree. Tell me again why it’s not doable.”

  Charlotte launched into a tirade about how it wasn’t practical. She ticked off the reasons on her fingers as she spoke. How it would be hard to regulate the temperature in the tent, flowers would wilt, ice sculptures would melt, the frozen ground would be an issue. I tuned out after that, lost in my own thoughts. I reached for my iPad and did an image search, my fingers dancing over the keys, trying to keep pace. I found some photos for inspiration and then waited for an opening in the conversation. There wasn’t one. So I took a leap of faith and cut Charlotte off mid-sentence.

  “What if we could make it feel like an outdoor wedding?” I asked.

  Veronica turned to me with interest. Charlotte glowered at me with a look of pure venom.

  “I’ve been thinking about how we could bring the outdoors in. Picture large oak trees covered with strands of hanging fairy lights. They could either hang down or be strung together to create a tiered chandelier. The trees would flank the aisles leading to a large trellis that would serve as a canopy during the ceremony. We can play with the lighting to make it feel like night, and you can get married under the stars.” I propped my iPad on the table and showed her some photos for inspiration. “The look I’m going for is whimsical meets rustic. I know you wanted a shabby chic feel, so perhaps we bring in farmhouse tables for dinner covered in lace tablecloths.”

  “Luce, I love it!” says Trish, bringing me back to the present day. “What was Veronica’s reaction?”

  I pause as a waiter sets a new drink down in front of me. This one is clear with blood red ice cubes artfully stacked upon one another. The night is still young so I need to slow down. When I go out I have one to two drinks max. And never when I’m working. Ever.

  “Her face lit up and it was the first time during the meeting that she was engaged,” I continue. “She started brainstorming with me, suggesting we could carve her and Rob’s initials in one of the trees.”

  “Cute. What are you thinking for flowers?”

  “I suggested we create a beautiful arrangement out of branches and candles as the centerpieces. Then, instead of having a traditional fabric backdrop for the band, we can build a floor-to-ceiling floral wall using a lattice fence. I’m thinking light pinks and whites, possibly peonies, and hundreds of them. It will be rustic, romantic, and beautiful.”

  “Where e
ver did you come up with this idea?”

  I shrug.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Please don’t tell me it’s something you’ve always dreamed of.”

  “No, I promise.” Trish knows New Year’s is my favorite holiday. I love how with the flip of a page, it’s a clean start. Everything is fresh and new, a chance to put the past behind you. I’m normally not an optimist, but it’s the one time of year that it feels like anything is possible. I don’t add that my dream is to have a New Year’s Eve wedding. But why bother? The chances of me getting married anytime soon—or ever for that matter—are slim.

  Trish doesn’t press the issue further. “What’s she like, Veronica?”

  “She’s stunning. Pretty, polished, and polite.”

  “The three P’s.”

  “Four if you add personable. She was down-to-earth and easy to talk to. And I loved that she included Rob in the conversation. She kept turning to him and asking for his opinion.”

  “And what about him? He’s gorgeous but always a bit stoic looking.”

  “He’s so taken with her. He calls her Ronnie. I think he puts on an air of aloofness for show, but he’s very amicable in person.”

  “I can’t believe you get to work with them. The politician’s daughter and a self-made millionaire.”

  “Let’s hope. I’m putting together the budget now.”

  “I can’t imagine that will be an issue.”

  I laugh. “I’ll send you an email with details for a floral quote.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “Luce, don’t feel you have to.”

  “I know. But I want to, and not because we’re friends, but because I trust you and know you do great work.”