by Alisa Mullen
“Months. Fucking months,” I shoot back. “I need you, Lola.”
I hear the phone rustling and the background noise that was there when I first called goes completely silent as Lola takes a deep breath.
“Speak to me.” Her tone is no bullshit, exactly what I need.
“Camden has an appointment with the guys and me tomorrow, L. Camden, the beautiful pilot that turned my life upside down. You remember him, right?” I am grasping into the past, hoping she remembers.
“Jesus, girl, how could I forget? You were obsessed with planes and airports for years. But wow, he’s actually going to be in your office?”
“Yes,” I hiss out. I place my palm on my forehead and wonder for a moment if I am coming down with a virus. Everything feels so hot and uncomfortable. I can’t get out of my own damn skin but I know the one thing that will help.
Heath’s face flashes through my mind and I am momentarily struck into some awareness of missing him again. But fuck, Camden is coming.
“Well, what do you want from him? Do you want to meander down memory lane with the guy?”
I think about the days I spent in bed with Camden and my mind flashes back to the things he did to my body, all brand new techniques to me at the time. He was simply incredible.
“I don’t know. I don’t even want to be in the meeting, Lola. I want to wear a wig, bottle cap glasses, and maybe some dentures.” I am flailing and I need a fucking grip.
Lola’s laughter bellows through the phone and I roll my eyes. Fucking great. I am having a freaking meltdown and my professional manhandling friend wants to make me her favorite comedian.
“I’m not laughing,” I maddeningly say.
“Right,” she coughs and clears her throat. “Of course you aren’t. Okay, so I think the whole dentures thing is quite frankly…a little diva dramatic. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an excellent story to tell the grandkids one day, but I’m imagining from your statement that you don’t want Camden to know who you are.”
I think about that for a few moments and decide that she is right. I don’t want him to recognize me. Not only would it be totally embarrassing to my geeky partners, but what if he asks me out, and I end up having to do that whole dating thing like normal people do.
From what everyone in this world knows about me, Luca West is not normal.
“I concur. Do you think he will recognize me?”
“Not if you do something subtle to your appearance. Wear man’s clothes. Don’t do your hair like normal. Be a butch.”
“Act like a lesbian?” My mouth is gaping open and I can feel it becoming drier with each passing second.
“Yes.” Lola enunciates the Y and the S like it is the answer that all kneeling men in the world pray for when they are holding up that engagement ring box.
“Okay.” I draw the word out. “Butch clothes. Like lesbian fashion?”
“Exactly,” she says so quickly, it sounds like a one syllable word. “Except, I know a lot of chicks who play for our side and are very attractive. You can do this, Luca. It’s so easy.” She is completely excited and for some reason, it feels like this story will be the one I will tell the grandkids. Well, not that I am having any grandkids, let alone kids. It’s that proverbial thing people do to act all philosophical and shit.
As I start to think more about it, I feel the absurd trembling start to calm and notice my brain is actively thinking about what I will need to pull off the type of outfit Lola is telling me to wear.
“I really think that might work. I’ll be disguised just enough for Camden, yet not over the top. The office will think I have a hangover or went temporarily blind,” I say, tapping my freshly manicured finger to my chin. “The question is, what will I wear and where the hell do I get the outfit?”
“Two words. Good. Will.” Lola is totally serious as she waits for my reply. I stop to think about her sentence and again, I feel my eyes rolling.
I decide to let her Goodwill idea puncture my brain and immediately it fires back out. “There’s no fucking way I’m going to Goodwill to buy my outfit. I mean, Jesus. Are we even talking about the same place? I can be frumpy, but damn, I don’t want to be church.”
Lola snorts on the other line. “Did you just say church?”
“Yeah,” I draw out. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘it’s church’ in relation to an outfit? Sometimes I wonder which one of us is in the fashion industry.”
“Oh please, girl. I know the saying. It’s just funny to hear it coming from you, but I suppose you having a personal shopper does help a lady of your lifestyle needs.”
Burn.
Did she just insult me?
“Okay, I think I want to cut a bitch. I’m so glad I called good ole Lola. Remind me to print a picture of you, so I can tack it on to my dart board.”
Lola is laughing. Shit, does this girl ever not laugh? I am smiling, wide and bright thinking of Lola, because when all is said and done, I miss my friend. She really knows me and while this is our first talk in months, it feels like just yesterday we were doing body shots in Manhattan with a male stripper and his friend, the porn star. Don’t even ask what we were doing that particular night.
“Say, how’s that guy you were dating back when I came to Manhattan last?” I ask, remembering the whole reason for the outrageous events of that evening.
“Simon? Um… we’re still seeing each other.” Lola’s tone is dull and has zero enthusiasm.
“Sounds…promising.” It doesn’t. She sounds like she is telling me what type of food she gave to her fish this morning. Boring, bland, and without thought.
“Excuse me, Ms. Lucia for not having the balls to follow in my college bestie’s footsteps and date wealthy men for great sex and shit.” She snorts again and it reminds me of why I’ve never given Carl her name. She snorts and well, the end.
“So, I have to get back to the meeting or the boys will think I left town again. Before I go, what should I do about the clothes?”
I can practically hear Lola thinking through the phone. She is the kind of girl that actually buzzes when she is thinking. I wait for her reply and can’t help but roll my eyes at this situation once more.
Camden, the pilot, will be in my office in twenty-four hours and I will be wearing…what?
“Oh! I’ve got it. Go down a few floors to the law offices of like insurance law or something boring. The old ladies working there are probably still dressing for the eighties. Take pictures incognito and send them over. I’ll overnight you clothes as long as you get them to me by two o’clock.”
“Really? You will?”
“Yeah, I can’t let you do frumpy without me, but I must have a picture of their styles. I’m sure I can wrestle some homeless women up here for their clothes.” She snorts again.
“You’re the best. I promise to take you to the best fondue dinner in the entire world when I see you next,” I croon out.
“Ooh, yes please. I need photos and I’ll get clothes to you by nine tomorrow morning.”
“You fucking rock,” I say with a sigh.
“I know. Who wants to cut a bitch now?” she asks.
I hang up on her and head straight for the elevator to take my pictures without offering a reply.
SEVEN
Lola is a fashion genius. Well, that’s debatable seeing as she had to outfit me in the ugliest clothes ever, but yeah, she nailed it. After finding several women to model their fantastically frumpy outfits yesterday, I sent over at least twenty photos to Lola. She had them thirty minutes after I ended our phone call and she promised me to get right to work at finding me the best ugly outfit ever. I went back to the conference room to find the guys hadn’t even fucking noticed I was gone. I proceeded to take charge of their stupid disagreement about fonts on the actual application worksheet, and pretty much designed the entire presentation with little help from them.
I love these guys and they are priceless when it comes to implantation, but the marketing presen
tations are my babies. Yes, as the parents, they have to sit in with me, but I am their sole care provider. Too much metaphor? Who cares? I am tired and look like I am swimming in plaid wool.
I boot up my computer, trying to forget the looks from everyone I encountered on my way in, starting with Colin and ending with Annie. I was throwing everyone off and wasn’t allowed to say one single word. I didn’t have time to explain to people that there was a possibility that my personal life may be made public today. Camden is my ticket to fucking up my professional image.
A knock startles me out of my reverie and I look up to see Annie in my doorway.
“What’s with the grandmother outfit today?” she asks¸ a little teasing in her eyes.
“Call it a social experiment and that’s all.” I punctuate my response with a look that says don’t fuck with me. I don’t want anyone bringing up the fact that I look different in front of Camden Steel.
“Right. Well, here are a few phone messages from this morning. Also, the guys are in the conference room already, preparing their presentation for the meeting at one this afternoon.”
I place my hands over my stomach, I am going to puke. How the fuck am I going to sit through this meeting without staring at Camden like a dog or pretending he isn’t there at all? I have to find a balance between the two, without making eye contact and everyone knows if you avoid eye contact there is no way you will seal a business deal. People watch eyes for trust and confidence and I was lacking both today, granted, no one else was privy to that. Just me. In my own personal hell.
I am distracted as I return phone calls and write up the company memo about the upcoming in house conferences we provide for our team. Leo and Mitch were all about team building activities, so every spring we hold a week long faux holiday for our employees. Lunch, activities, and half days are provided for them. Do to our company structure, our turnover rate is nearly perfect. Our employees will be here for the long haul, with the exception of birth and death. I briefly wonder if I will lose my job when people realize I’m a high quality hooker.
No, I’m not a hooker. I don’t take money. I don’t take money.
The phone on my desk rings twice and I know what it is. My lunch hour is over and it’s time to face Camden
Here goes nothing, I say to myself as I leave my office. I think of my mother’s quote about women being like fish. If I keep my damn mouth shut, I won’t get in trouble. That’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll be a fucking fish.
I arrive at the door of the conference room, take the biggest breath I’ve ever taken, and pull the door open. Three sets of eyes look up to me. I plaster a smile on my face and quickly make eye contact with my two friends and then the old friend that I spent an incredible few days with many years ago. I do a double take to see he is walking toward me with a hand outstretched.
He is much older than he was the last time I saw him, and while he is still attractive, I feel nothing as he comes closer to me. Every time I spent thinking about this very moment was a waste because there’s no chemistry. Not anymore and not for me. Part of me is relieved and I instantly know that I can do this. I can pull off this meeting as Luca, not Lucia, and he will never know a frigging thing.
“Ms. West, I presume,” Camden says as he approaches me. No, he doesn’t recognize me. He looks at my clothes and dismisses me. I have an awkward look on my face, almost like I am constipated but smiling at him with excitement; like a full on geek, nerd, socially inept wannabee CEO of the biggest freak club in Chicago. It’s great. He has no idea who I am, and since I am about to fake a bad coughing fit to leave these two idiots to finish the meeting, there won’t be much more to this little reunion…ever…again.
“Hello Mr. Steel. Good to meet you. I hope you like coffee and donuts,” I say flippantly and walk to my seat, far, far away from pilot man. As I grab a croissant, I catch the guys looking at me and while I see them looking off kilter most days, it takes me a moment to observe their complete lack for words, expressions, or anything else as they take me in. Surely, they think they just saw a ghost.
“Yes, thank you,” Camden says, pulling me out of my quick staring match with Mitch and Leo. I’m so going to be up to my eyeballs in explaining. I assure myself that after I leave this office, Lola will be getting a long phone call to help me with the story I’ll tell my friends about my wardrobe change. We never discussed that the day before and I am losing steam on creativity right now. I’m even disappointing myself on this. Normally, I am such a great actress. It seems I can only tap into my naughty side. I sigh at the thought.
So be it.
“So, gentlemen. Should we begin?” I raise my eyebrows at Mitch and Leo. I quickly flash my eyes over to Camden, who is already looking through the print outs, totally oblivious to the alternate universe we are living in at this moment.
“Right. Yes, Mr. Steel, my partners and I came up with a top marketing strategy that’s both in line with your company’s needs as well as the twenty-first century.”
Mitch is quite interesting to listen to. Why haven’t I ever really paid attention to his marketing pitches before? Oh yeah, because I was always dreaming about jewelry and fucking. I feel like a completely inadequate friend. Then, I think back to Heath and warmth spreads through the apex of my legs and I’m fully aroused just thinking of my time with him. Fuck me. I’m finally reconnected with the man that made me the girl I am, trying to play now you see me, now you don’t at the same time, and I want another man who I will absolutely never, not once, see again.
“Luca?” Leo says my name and I quickly look up. “You’re going to talk to us about the smart phone application for Steel Charter clients.”
I know what the fuck I am going to talk about. Jesus.
“Of course I am.” I smile. “Mr. Steel, I believe that we went over the statistics of smart phone usage over the last week globally in section A of this proposal. There was a reason for that, because people love their smart phones. When questioned, some people said that if their tablet or device was ever lost, they would consider suicide.” I hold up my hands as he chuckles. “Their words, not mine,” I say.
And now is the time in this little game I like to call, choke the ever- loving fuck out of myself.
I quickly take a sip of coffee, purposely inhaling an itty bitty portion of it, and it begins. Boy, I play it up. I am quite possibly the most wretched, loud choker that ever lived. I am red and splotchy, bending myself over in the chair. All three men are up, trying to help but I won’t let them anywhere near me. I feel the cough leaving me and damn, time to go.
I put my hand over my mouth and plead with Leo, water starting to flow from my eyes right before I book it for the conference room door. I’m safe. Oh God, I’m safe. Thank God. I am so brilliant. I am so God damn brilliant.
I make my way to my office, shut the door and lock it, before lying down on my love seat.
I am safe. No more Camden. No more ugly outfits. No more losing my shit over nothing.
I ignore every single knock and phone call for the rest of the day. They are probably all thinking I’m having a meltdown for totally botching that presentation, but whatever. Steel Charter was never going to become our client.
***
My office phone reads six o’clock. I quietly close up my computer and make my way to my door. Just as I am closing it behind me, Mitch comes around the corner, looking happier than I’ve ever seen him and I really don’t get it. He should be completely pissed at me, but no, he is in pep rally mode and I am confused.
“I was just about to break down the door to get to you. We got the contract, Luca!” He is beaming as he tells me this. I can’t help but smile before I realize just exactly what he is talking about.
“He picked Divider?” I ask as the astonishment and fright claim every single molecule in my body. Everything is shutting down and I am becoming numb.
“Hell yeah, he did! One caveat, though. His partner wasn’t able to make it this morning. I guess he owns anoth
er business and could only get an afternoon flight to Chicago. We are signing the papers over dinner. Come on, they are waiting for us in the conference room.”
My feet won’t move and I can’t breathe. What the mother fucking god damn shit ton of stupid bull shit is he talking about?
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I ask, completely horrified.
He rolls his eyes precisely the way I always do, throwing a little shoulder action in.
“You’ve been in a hole all day, remember? I finally realized I had an extra key to your office when you came out. Come on, they’re waiting.”
My stomach is in my throat as I follow Mitch like a little puppy dog. I try to think of all the ways to get out of here without any bodily harm to myself. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t…
I can’t believe what I am seeing as we round the corner. In my receptionist area, my eyes fall on the man that gave me days of exquisite love making, mind blowing orgasms, and dreams of being every day since our separating. I am speechless and sick and excited and about to scream.
“Luca, meet Heath Landon. He’s my business partner. Heath, this is the lovely Luca West,” Camden introduces us and immediately steps back for us to do our obligatory greeting.
No one moves as Heath and I stare at each other with an undeniable shock. The shock that the man I was dreaming about all day long is Camden’s partner has me stuttering in all that I am and do.
This is not my real life. No, this is a god damn comedy film starring Luca West as “Lucia – what the fuck do I do now? – Westwood.” However no is laughing at this funny movie. No one is even smiling.
Every set of eyes in the room are trained on me. I am a professional woman, who for the first time in my career, is left speechless, unable to form a sentence. This is not me. None of this is.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Heath tenderly takes hold of my shaky hand. I’m stunned. He kisses my hand the exact same way as he did when we met days earlier. That same dynamism of stimulation migrates south just as it had the first time.