The Boyfriend Diaries: A Romance Box Set Collection

by S. E. Law

  I throw my arms around my dad.

  “I know, Daddy, but I love Gainesville. Sure, it’s a small town but I’m happy here. People know one another and are friendly with their neighbors. What’s wrong with that? Do you really want me to move to a big city where people walk around with earbuds in their ears all day, unwilling to make eye contact with other people? Do you really want me to re-locate to a place where the cost of living is sky-high, and where the food is bad too? At least Gainesville has its famous Gainsey Hot Dog, and you know I love those so much.”

  Harold nods, a smile coming to his lips.

  “I know, Penny. I’m just a doting dad, that’s all, and I want to give you opportunities. Your mom would be proud of who you are today, whether you stay in Gainesville or not. But just do this one last thing for me before graduation, okay? Come with me to Take Your Daughter to Work Day. You’ll get to see how office environments function, and who knows? Maybe you’ll like it. You won’t be on your feet all day, the way it is at the salon.”

  I consider saying no because I have no interest in any type of corporate job, period. My dream since I was a young girl has always been to be a hairdresser. I love doing blow-outs, cuts, color, and learning all the new techniques shaping the industry. There’s a new method called a Japanese perm that uses heat to create curly hair, and I’m excited to start trying it with some of my more adventurous girls.

  But I can tell that Harold really wants me to come to this event. Frankly, it sounds awful. I thought Take Your Daughter To Work Day was supposed to be for elementary-age children, and not women who are already eighteen. But it means so much to my dad, that I find myself nodding yes.

  “Okay,” I say with resignation. “When is it?”

  “Tomorrow,” he beams happily. “So you’ll come?”

  I check my schedule.

  “Well, I have school but I guess this is a special occasion where I can miss classes for a little bit. I’ll just be at your office for a few hours, right? That means I can make it back in time for History, and then onto SexyFlow after school for Lettie’s blowout.”

  My dad smiles happily.

  “Old Lettie Lyons won’t mind if you’re a little late to your appointment. She’s got nothing to do all day because she’s at least ninety. Hairdressing is for her more of a social affair rather than a chance to get her hair done.”

  I nod my head seriously.

  “Yes, that’s true, Dad, but see, you’re undervaluing what I do. You’re right, Lettie is ninety, and yes, she comes around every week for her appointment to chat with the ladies and socialize a bit. And yes, she’s been retired thirty years, so she doesn’t have much else on her calendar. But still, our appointment is important to her. It’s her chance to see her friends and neighbors, and to catch up on all the good gossip. It’s also a chance for her to get her hair done so that she feels attractive even at ninety, and for us to make sure she’s okay. After all, you know that Lettie’s son moved to Chicago years ago, and they only talk by phone once a month. We’re her guardians in a way. If she doesn’t show up, then we know to send someone to check on her.”

  My dad taps his toe a bit, thinking.

  “I guess you have a point, sweetheart. You’re so smart, Penny, and I never thought of hairdressing as having a social services function. But you know what? You’re right. I get my haircut at Old Tom’s Barbershop over on Main Street, and it’s fun seeing the guys and talking sports. I guess it’s the same for women too.”

  I nod my head vigorously.

  “It’s definitely the same for women. There’s a community at the shop, and we watch out for one another. I like it there. I feel like my customers appreciate my efforts, and they appreciate me as a person, too. It’s a good place Dad, and they’re good people.”

  Harold nods and smiles, going over to the front door.

  “Well, be ready at nine a.m. tomorrow morning bright and early okay, Pen? I want to take you to Lancaster Industries just once, so that you can see how an office runs. Maybe you’ll like it, maybe you won’t. But just humor your old dad this once, okay? Bye, and have a wonderful day sweetheart.”

  With that, my dad leans forward to press a kiss to my cheek before waddling down the front lane to his car. Our house isn’t much. The yellow split-level is saggy and droopy, with a few shingles coming out of the roof. I sometimes work in the garden, but our front yard isn’t much to see either. The grass is brown and dry since we’re trying to save on the water bill, and the small gate lets out a rusty creak as my dad swings it open before opening the car door.

  “Bye honey!” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later tonight!”

  I raise my hand in a cheery wave and then shut the door before turning back to the kitchen and staring at the leftovers from breakfast. It’s been my job, ever since my mom died, to make breakfast for Harold every morning, and I haven’t missed a single day. But now, I need to get this place spic and span before the first bell rings for high school.

  Quickly, I drop the dishes in the dishwasher and run a rag over the table. Then I push the chairs in so that the kitchen looks neat, and quickly mop the floor so it’s gleaming. It’s a little overboard to be doing this so early in the day, but I like to come home to a neat and tidy kitchen after working at the salon, so it’s become a habit of mine.

  After watering the houseplants, I head upstairs to get ready for school. It’s still a little early, to be honest. It’s only eight a.m., and I don’t need to be on campus until about eight thirty. As a result, I take the opportunity to look up my dad’s company on my phone. To be honest, I’ve never been that interested in what Harold does for a living. I think he’s a salesman of industrial tools? To be honest, I’m not even sure what that means.

  But quickly, my fingers fly over the keyboard as I type in “Lancaster Industries.” Lancaster has been based in our town only for the last two years. They moved their headquarters here after the taxes in their old city got too onerous. Evidently, Gainesville offered them a nice package to relocate, and soon the company came, with the offer of jobs.

  Harold was one of the lucky ones who got a job right away. Before, he’d been languishing a little. He had a job already as a door-to-door book salesman, but let’s be honest: everyone reads e-books these days, and no one really wants to buy a huge Encyclopedia Britannica set for their kids. Not when you have Google on your phone. As a result, my dad showed up the first day of Lancaster’s job fair, and started almost immediately.

  But I’ve never been that interested in office jobs, which is why I don’t have a clear grip on what my dad does all day. In fact, I have no idea what anyone does all day at an office job. Do they make copies? Sort file folders? Highlight and staple? It’s a mystery to me.

  Quickly, I skim the first page of Lancaster Industries’ website, and then hit “About Us” for fun. That’s when I gasp with surprise because a photo of the CEO pops on screen, and he’s gorgeous. I’d been anticipating an eighty-year-old wizened man with wrinkles and white hair, but instead, the CEO is young: maybe about thirty or so. Plus, he’s got thick, night-black hair, blazing blue eyes that jump out from the screen, and a strong jaw with an appealing cleft. Who is this guy, and where did he come from?

  My eyes skim his bio quickly. Evidently, Patrick Lancaster is the grandson of the founder. He started working at Lancaster straight out of college, and was instrumental in turning his family’s company into a billion-dollar concern. He led expansions of Lancaster into Saudi Arabia and Japan, but is currently based right here in Gainesville.

  My head spins as I read this description in shock. Is it true that this man lives here, in puny Gainesville, a town that has at a maximum ten thousand people? Is it true that every day, he gets up and puts on a suit, and then drives to the same brick building that Harold shows up to?

  It can’t be. Patrick Lancaster is too suave, sophisticated, and too everything for our small town. But somehow, fate has landed him here, and I’m going to meet him tomorrow!r />
  68

  Penny

  Yesterday, I’d been over the moon about the possibility of meeting Gainesville’s most eligible bachelor. After all, we don’t have many eligible men here. Of course, there are the guys at my high school: the jocks, the goths, the theater geeks, and the yearbook staff. But no one really appeals to me. As a result, I’ve been single my entire four years at Gainesville High, although more than a few guys asked me out.

  “Come on,” wheedled Brock Tanner just last week. “You’ll like the burgers over at Shake and Fry.”

  I shook my head wryly.

  “No thanks, Brock. I really appreciate it but I have to get to my job at SexyFlow after school. Thanks for thinking of me though.”

  Brock pouted a bit, which was ridiculous since he was six foot two.

  “You work all the time, Penny,” he whined. “What does that hair salon have that I don’t? Don’t you want to date like a normal girl? I asked Jeanette, Pauline, and Marisa out last week, and they all said yes. You’re the only one who’s said no. Ever.”

  “Then you won’t miss me at all,” I retort merrily. “You have a full dance card, Brock, and I wouldn’t want to mess it up.”

  Fortunately, Brock gave up the chase and satisfied himself with the Jeanettes, Paulines, and Marisas of the world because there was no way I was going to go out with him. Something about my high school classmates is very off-putting and Brock was a good example. I didn’t like the way he used so much gel in his hair so that it looked greasy, nor did I like the way he whined and pouted like a little boy. He was immature, just like the rest of his crew, and I’d be happier doing a shift at SexyFlow per usual.

  But Patrick Lancaster is a different story. First, he has to be at least a decade older than my classmates, with the life experience to show for it. He went to a fancy college on the East Coast, and then lived overseas while building out his grandfather’s empire. He’s probably fluent in Arabic and Japanese, having spent time there, which is insanely impressive.

  But what I find most interesting is that he’s re-located here, to Gainesville. What could we have to offer? I understand that the city gave his company a tax break, but it must be so different here than the big metropolitan areas he’s inhabited in the past. I look forward to asking him some of these questions.

  “You ready?” Harold asks while opening the car door for me. “You’ll like Lancaster. It’s not like The Office at all. My co-workers are much nicer and much more normal.”

  I laugh at my dad’s quip while getting out of the car.

  “Daddy, I didn’t think your workplace was like Dunder Mifflin. First, because you guys don’t manufacture paper products, and also because there’s no Steve Carell! What would The Office be like without a boss like Steve Carell?”

  My dad chortles along with me while leading me to the glass doors at the front of a large brick building with the sign Lancaster in front.

  “Well, honey, I think you’ll find that a job is a job is a job, and that actually, The Office isn’t that far off from real life. But you’ll see.”

  As I step into the lobby, my eyes grow round because it’s quite luxurious. From the outside, Lancaster Industries doesn’t look imposing whatsoever. It’s a middling brick building with a parking lot out front. But upon entering the interior, I see that the lobby is all-white, with shiny marble floors; a grey receptionist desk that looks carved from granite; and striking artwork on the walls.

  “This is Lancaster?” I gasp.

  “It is,” my dad beams proudly. “Nancy, can you tell us where we’re meeting for Take Your Daughter To Work Day?” he asks the elderly receptionist.

  She smiles and hands us a piece of paper.

  “In Conference Room 11,” she says. “This is the schedule. Welcome, honey. You’ll have a good time today.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble, my cheeks flushing. It’s because behind us, another man has entered with a little girl holding his hand. She looks to be about eight, which is probably the age of most of today’s participants. Oh no. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.

  A look at the schedule has my heart sinking as well. There are items such as “Face-painting,” “Valentine’s Card Making,” and “Valentine’s Celebration.”

  I look up at my dad.

  “This is a kid’s event, Harold. I don’t belong here.”

  My dad looks at the flyer with a puzzled expression.

  “No, right here, see? There’s one called “About Lancaster” and another seminar titled “Industrial Tools 101.” Those are definitely meant for the older children.”

  But my heart merely sinks upon hearing my dad say the words “older children.” I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe I can stay in the back and just hide among the adults.

  But even more, as my eyes scan the schedule, I see that there’s no mention of the CEO Patrick Lancaster. Evidently, he’s not going to do a welcome, nor any type of keynote speech. Instead, this is more of a children’s festival than anything else.

  “It’ll be fine,” I say with a wan smile at my dad. “I’ll have a good time.”

  “You will!” beams my father. “It’s going to be fun. Now here we are,” he says, guiding me to a large conference room where there are red and pink streamers dangling from the ceiling as well as a face-painting station and an arts and crafts table. “Just let me set down my briefcase, and I’ll be back in a jiffy, sweetheart. You’ll have a good time.”

  I smile as my dad waddles down the hall, leaving me alone in the kids’ party room. Who am I kidding? Today is going to be a bust. Not only will I learn nothing about office life, but I also won’t meet the handsome Patrick Lancaster either, much to my disappointment.

  Oh well. Such is life, and with a sigh, I sit down at a small table with my chin in my hands. Maybe I can leave a little early and get back to high school. Or maybe, just maybe, Mr. Lancaster will materialize and we’ll share a kiss in the halls of this illustrious company.

  Then I snort. Who am I kidding? As I sit there, a clown in full regalia enters with a boombox and a bunch of props. My time at Lancaster is going to be a bust, and there’s no Prince Charming waiting for me today.

  69

  Patrick

  I’m washing my hands in the men’s room before heading back to my office. It’s a day like any other day.

  I was drafted to come to Gainesville a year ago by my family. The city offered our company extraordinary incentives, including tax benefits, breaks on real estate, and employment opportunities. It made sense for our business, and as a result, I re-located, bringing with me a core of loyal employees.

  But it’s been a bit tedious here in Gainesville. It’s a small town, and not at all like New York, where I used to live. Gainesville has a tiny population, and there are things like trees, flowers, and sunshine here. Not to sound jaded, but I hardly ever saw the sun in NYC. It was always blocked out by tall towers and skyscrapers.

  Also, the people are different. They actually smile and say hello to you when you walk past, instead of scurrying by with their eyes on the ground. The men tend to be jolly and friendly, and the women are much more demure.

  Well, sort of. Although the women in Gainesville are fine, I would say they’re still aggressive, just not as overtly aggressive when it comes to dating me. There are still plenty of scheming looks, hopeful sighs, and a lot of not-so-subtle hints too.

  For example, two weeks ago I was out with Marie Krondike, who’s considered “hot stuff” around here. She’s pretty in a conventional way. She has a skinny frame, with long blonde hair almost down to her waist, and big blue eyes that look innocent. However, as she leaned close to me at the restaurant bar, her words were anything but innocent.

  “How about we take it to your house, Patrick?” she purred throatily while batting her lashes. “This place is getting crowded and I could use a nightcap.”

  I merely smiled.

  “No, I think I’ll grab another beer, thanks.”

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p; She leaned back with puzzlement in her eyes. Not many guys tell her no, I was willing to bet.

  “Well, how about my apartment then, Mr. Lancaster? I’d love for you to meet my cat.”

  At that, I shook my head.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m allergic to cats. I’d be sneezing like a maniac once I met your kitten, even if he or she is very cute.”

  But then Marie brightened.

  “Well, I’ve got you there because Mr. Wiggles is actually a hairless cat, like Mr. Bigglesworth from Austin Powers. You know, the one that the evil character played by Mike Myers was always petting. You won’t sneeze after meeting Wiggles.”

  I tried to contain my horror. I’m not a fan of hairless animals and I’m especially not a fan of Mr. Bigglesworth. He looked underfed and miserable in the movie, and seeing a version of him in real-life was not on my To-do list.

  “Thanks,” I said wanly. “But even the smallest speck of pet dander gets my allergies going. Bartender, can I get the check please?” I signaled.

  The guy working that night shot me a sympathetic look because he’d probably heard everything we’d said, and it was clear I wasn’t interested in being Marie Krondike’s next victim. As a result, I signed the check while leaving a hefty tip and took myself home all alone.

  As a result, life here has been pretty dull the last year. I go out; I meet people; and I work, mostly. It’s fine because this is my family’s company, and I want Lancaster Industries to do well. However, living in this tiny town is beginning to wear on me, and I wonder when my family will give me the go-ahead to move elsewhere. I’m thinking Paris this time around. Perhaps the City of Lights will help me find love, and French girls certainly are very stylish and beautiful.

  Exiting the men’s room, I stroll down the hallway. There’s a commotion coming from a conference room in the corner, but when the door opens for someone to step in, realization hits. Right, today is Take Your Daughter To Work Day, and they’ve decorated the room with streamers and balloons. It’s fine. I support women’s lib, and gave the okay for the party, even if I’m not too interested in it myself.