Code Red

by Amy Noelle

  But for once, she wouldn’t get me to see things her way. I really didn’t need more in my life than my cats. Taken together, they were the perfect male. Winchester, a fat orange tabby named after my TV boyfriend Dean Winchester from Supernatural, loved nothing better than to curl up and snuggle with me. Huntington Peabody the Third—a handsome, sleek, black cat—was moody, unpredictable, and insanely possessive of me. He loved me and only me, and he tended to attack any male who dared come into my home. Since I was generally one and done when it came to guys, this wasn’t a bad thing. My suitors usually left satisfied, and with some kind of mark from Hunt. Win all around.

  “I’m perfectly content, thank you very much,” I said and shot a look at Jen. They didn’t tend to bother her about men since she’d gotten screwed over by David Thompson. Or was it Tommy Davidson? She’d fallen for Mr. Wrong, moved him into her apartment, and came home one day to find everything she owned gone. The cops had informed her David had several aliases and several girls he’d pulled the same move on in the past. That was two years ago, and she hadn’t dated since. Nobody pushed her like they did me. She was still hurting, and all of us felt protective of her. I’d gotten into more than one verbal smackdown with men who wouldn’t leave her alone.

  “One day it’s not going to be enough,” Mandy said and glanced at her watch. “Don’t you want what we have?”

  Did I want to go home to a screaming baby and a clueless husband who’d already called four times to ask how to do the simplest of tasks? No, I really didn’t. But Mandy handled it with a smile. I was pretty sure she loved being needed, in a way none of the other guys she’d dated ever needed her.

  My friends acted like we were forty-six, not twenty-six. I had plenty of time. I had my cats to keep me company and BOB, my vibrator, to take care of business when there was no man around. As long as I had batteries on hand, I was good to go. What more did I need?

  “So, how’s work?” Jen asked to change the subject. She hated it even more than I did when they went off on the man tangent.

  Kim beamed. “I got a new account yesterday. I can’t say the name, but suffice it to say that a certain god of shoes and I will be working together very closely.”

  “God of shoes?” I asked. “You mean N—” Kim shushed me. “This is major! Congrats, Kim.”

  “Thanks! How about you? Written anything scintillating lately?”

  I rolled my eyes. I had the most boring job on the planet, but it served two purposes: it paid the bills, and I got to wear comfortable clothes to work, rather than dressing up in designer duds and shoes that would require I see a podiatrist in a couple of years. At least I was sort of using my journalism degree.

  “Technically, I’m a writer,” I said.

  Ashley laughed. “Technically, you’re a technical writer. Though I am having some trouble with my vacuum. Do you know what might be causing it not to suck properly?” she asked, giggling away.

  I flipped her off. “Not everybody needs to write a national column or a bestseller to be successful,” I said. Teaching someone how to use their vacuum or microwave wasn’t the most exciting of professions, but there was some nobility in it. If a person didn’t know how to use a microwave without reading the instruction manual, well, maybe they shouldn’t own one, but I felt like what I did was useful, even if it was mind-numbingly boring.

  “Besides,” I said, “you know all about sucking properly.” Ash choked on her margarita. “Or maybe not. Poor Rick.”

  A round of raucous laughter erupted, and Ashley turned bright red.

  “Rick has no complaints,” she said. “You’re so crude, Nic. You should have been a guy.”

  I’d thought that more than once or twice myself.

  “Your vacuum probably needs to be cleaned out. Hair as long as ours tends to get wrapped around the brush. Take some scissors and cut it off. That’s the easiest way to remove it.” I demonstrated by wrapping my long, dark blond hair around my finger. “See? My job can be useful.”

  Ashley nodded to humor me.

  “Anyway, work’s okay. Pro-Tech has some suit from New York coming in with a major project that’s very hush-hush.” I shrugged. Usually when we got something like that, it was for an electronic device of some sort—a phone or video game, and something I wasn’t involved with. I knew how to turn on my television and set my DVR, and that was about it. My boss knew better than to stick me with that kind of project.

  “Sounds exciting. Maybe you’ll finally get to write about the TouchPhone,” Mandy said.

  “The TouchPhone doesn’t come with a manual.” I patted my purse where my beloved phone resided. “You just turn it on and go to town.”

  “Sounds like your sex life,” Ashley said, and we all giggled again.

  “You forgot send him on his way when you’re done with him.”

  “Yep, you should be a man.” Mandy tossed some bills on the table. “I need to get home to the baby.” Her son was nearly six months old, and I had a feeling nights like this would be few and far between once he was mobile. She was doing well with the stay-at-home mom thing, although I couldn’t imagine it. She’d been quite the party girl in college. We’d had similar tastes in men and lifestyle until Kurt came along, swept her off her feet, married her, and knocked her up. Babies and men weren’t high on my priority list. Then again, not much was. I preferred it that way.

  “Yeah, it’s time,” Ashley said, and the rest of us piled all our money together.

  I pushed my margarita away. I’d had enough and wanted to be sober for the ride home, even if I was taking the El. I loved living in Chicago and not having a car or, more importantly, a car payment.

  We stood and made our way to the exit. Hugs and cheek kisses were exchanged before the girls got into their cars and drove away. Jen and I walked to the El alone.

  She leaned her head on my shoulder. “That’s getting more and more painful.”

  “They have different lives than we do. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just not the same,” I said.

  She stood up straight and eyed me suspiciously. “It doesn’t bug you that they’re all paired off with babies and mortgages and all that grown-up stuff?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. Do I hope to have that someday? Yes. Well, maybe not the baby.” Kids terrified me, if I was being honest. Especially babies. They looked at you like they knew every single awful thing you’d ever said, done, or thought about doing. “But I don’t want it right now. I’m having fun just the way I am.”

  “Solitude and empty sex with losers?” she asked in a snarky voice.

  I sighed. “First of all, I don’t have sex all the time, and rarely with a full-on loser. Just with guys who aren’t very good-looking. They’re grateful for the attention. Very grateful, if you get my drift.” I waggled my eyebrows and she laughed and nudged me. “Second of all, I like being alone. If you can’t enjoy your own company, how can other people enjoy you?”

  “Nobody enjoys me,” Jen said.

  I slipped an arm around her. “That’s not true. I enjoy you. You’re pretty, smart, and sweet. If you want what they have, you need to let down your guard. Hell, tell Kim to hook you up with that guy she was droning on about setting me up with. You have to put yourself out there if you want someone, Jenny.”

  She shook her head, and her brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. “I don’t know how anymore. It’s been too long.”

  “I’ll help you,” I said and squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll go out next weekend and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t say I wanted one of your easy ugly guys. I want quality. I want someone like . . .” She frowned.

  “David. Or the David you thought you knew. I get it. You know, there are good-looking guys out there.” I even got hit on by some of the cute ones. Just because I preferred guys who weren’t devastatingly handsome didn’t mean I couldn’t get one if I wanted to. I just didn’t, thanks to demon Damian.

  “He asked for my number, you know,�
�� I said as we walked into the El station.

  “Damian?” she asked and her jaw dropped. “Did you give it to him?”

  I laughed. “No, I gave him the number to my gyno.”

  She snickered. “You’re crazy, Nic.”

  “I’m not going to lie. Fat and aged or not, I was still thrilled he wanted to spend time with me. For just a moment, he was the guy that made my tongue tie in knots and my heart pound. He’s got those same eyes and that same voice that did me in seven years ago.”

  “He was sexy as sin,” she said with a sigh. We swiped our cards and pushed through the turnstiles. “Why do we have such bad taste in men?”

  “We both got burned, then we both got smart. I don’t think that constitutes bad taste,” I said. My taste now was different, but it worked for me and I didn’t get hurt.

  “No.” She shook her head. “We both closed off. You may go out and get laid, but you don’t put your heart on the line any more than I do. What happened to us? We used to be fearless.”

  I wasn’t afraid. I was just . . . disinterested. My heart was my own, and I was happy that way. “I’d say we both prove that women don’t need men to be happy.”

  “Do we?” Jen asked. “We’re both headed home at nine o’clock on a Saturday night to empty apartments.”

  “Mine isn’t empty.”

  She laughed. “Cats don’t count.”

  “Says you.”

  My train pulled up and I gave her a quick hug. “Maybe we’re just meant to be a different kind of happy. Or maybe you need to make some changes. Either way, I’ll help you work on it.”

  I stepped onto the train and waved as she shouted, “Maybe we both need to!”

  No, I was just fine. My life was easy and uncomplicated, just the way I liked it.

  Chapter 2

  “What are you looking at?” I asked Hunt, who’d hopped onto the vanity and was studying me with his greenish-gold eyes.

  “It’s the skirt, isn’t it?” I tugged at the black skirt and frowned when it kept riding up past my knee. This was why I didn’t wear skirts and dresses. You didn’t have to worry you might have a Sharon Stone moment and unintentionally flash the new Suit from New York. And since I didn’t live my life like the movies, which was a damn shame, it was probably for the best that I kept the goods covered.

  “I’m trying too hard, aren’t I? He’s just some guy. He isn’t the boss.” Hunt stuck a leg straight out and began cleaning himself. “Nice. I’m going to take that as approval of my outfit. There’s nothing wrong with dressing to impress.” I finished putting on my makeup and smoothed out my olive blouse that matched my eyes. Now, hair up? No. That was too much effort. I needed to offset the skirt and shoes. Not that I was wearing heels. I wasn’t a lunatic. But dress flats were still better than my usual sandals or black sneakers. I ran my fingers through my long, brownish-blond hair and exited the bathroom where I was immediately accosted by Winchester, who wound through my legs, purring like there was no tomorrow. When I bent to scratch his head, he amped it up a notch. “I know, breakfast time. How could I forget?”

  I went into the kitchen and refilled his dish. He’d have no qualms about taking me down if I ever thought about leaving without feeding him.

  “You’re such a pig,” I said as he knocked me out of the way. Hunt appeared from out of nowhere, his black tail swishing. He shot me a look before knocking one treat out of the bowl and eating it.

  “I guess I’ll be going now.” They studiously ignored me as I got my bag and slipped on my black flats at the door. Typical men. They had what they wanted, and I was no longer of interest to them.

  I shook my head and headed out to catch the train. Didn’t want to be late today, just in case Mr. New York had already arrived to send heads rolling. My boss, Chris, was being uncharacteristically buttoned up about it, when he was usually very laid-back, easy to laugh, and willing to let a girl leave early if she had her day’s work done.

  The guy sitting across from me on the train kept looking at me through thick glasses that kept slipping down his nose. Had I hooked up with him? He sort of looked like my type, but I didn’t remember him. Maybe I’d just seen him when I was out somewhere. Or maybe my picture was on an easy lay website. I had hooked up with a few computer guys in my time.

  When the El got to my stop, I stepped past glasses man and glanced at my watch. Ten minutes until work started. Perfect. I strolled the half block to my building and arrived just as the elevator opened. Red-letter day for me. I hit the button for the fourteenth floor and exchanged smiles with an older lady who requested the twentieth. Perfect again. My stop was first.

  The doors opened and I walked down the hall and entered office fourteen twenty-three.

  “Who are you and what have you done with the real Nicole?” Andrew asked the instant he laid eyes on me.

  I smacked him with my purse and walked to my desk, which was across from his, and said, “I notice you aren’t trying to pass off black jeans as business casual today.”

  “I don’t do that.” He shot me an injured look. He definitely looked more put together than usual, in khakis and a red polo.

  “Yes, you do,” Angie said and shook her head, her blond ponytail bouncing. “And she,” she said, pointing at me, “wears black yoga pants she pretends are dressy but may as well be pajamas.”

  I laughed. “Like you can talk, Mrs. Suit.” She was wearing a new gray jacket today.

  “I always dress like this,” she said haughtily.

  “Yeah, when you’re headed to court to fight another speeding ticket.”

  She huffed and straightened her jacket. “Lead foot or not, unlike you heathens, I dress well every day.” She did, really. She always wore nice blouses or sweaters and skirts and pressed pants. I often looked like a college student next to her. I didn’t even own an iron. That’s what unwrinklable fabrics and dry cleaners were for.

  “True. But you don’t usually wear the jacket,” Andrew said. “You look like my wife.”

  “Thank God I’m not,” Angie said.

  I laughed and set my bag down, then sank into my chair. “Where’s Leese?”

  “Right behind you,” she said, and I jumped and turned to scowl at her as she sat down next to me. She was also in a skirt but, unlike mine, hers was super short. I gave her a look, and she shrugged. “He could be hot.”

  Lisa was twenty-two, fresh out of college, and made no bones about wanting a man.

  “What if he’s not even a he?” I asked, because really, we didn’t know. We’d just been informed that “someone” from the New York office was coming to work on a special project and hopefully wasn’t firing everybody. But I was getting a bit nervous since we all were dressing better and showing up on time and everything.

  “I don’t, but it never hurts to be prepared.” She took out her compact and touched her face to make sure it looked perfect, then ran her fingers through her short-cropped brown hair and nodded. “Good to go.”

  I shook my head and logged into my computer and pulled up my file for the Micro5000. I was happy because I was nearly done with the manual, and a quick glance at my e-mail showed I had nothing pending. Maybe I could go home early while everybody freaked out about the Suit some more.

  “How was your weekend?” I asked the group as I typed up the dos and don’ts of microwave usage.

  “Jeannie’s team won their soccer tournament.” Andrew said, sounding every bit the proud father he was.

  “That’s great.”

  “Tom and I finished our deck! We’re almost done with the whole house,” Angela said.

  I smiled. “You’re going to have to throw a big party when it’s finished.”

  “Count on it! The kids are dying for it to warm up so they can use the pool again. We’ll have a pool party.”

  I resisted rolling my eyes but just barely. Oh, joy. Screaming children. Just the kind of party I had in mind. It felt like ages since I’d been a kid. Maybe I was forty-six.

  “W
hat did you do? Supernatural marathon?” Lisa asked.

  I shot her a withering look. I’d watched a few episodes on Sunday, but I did have a life.

  “I had my Saturday night get-together with the girls. Shopped. Ran into an ex and had him panting for me. So, not much.”

  Lisa’s golden eyes widened with interest. “Panting as in you did him, or panting as in you let him think you’d do him?”

  “The latter.” I smiled proudly. I wasn’t about to tell her Damian was no longer the sexy guy I’d once dated. There were some things coworkers didn’t need to know, especially coworkers that were cute as a button and über competitive.

  “When are you seeing him again?”

  I shrugged. “I haven’t decided if I’ll give him a chance, yet. He’s going to have to work for it.” He’d have to work really hard, because my gynecologist doesn’t give out patient information.

  “Nice,” Lisa said. “I went out with Matt on Friday and Randy on Saturday.”

  I couldn’t even remember who Matt or Randy were. She rotated through men more often than I did. I should introduce Lisa to my friends. They wouldn’t judge me so harshly if they knew her.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Chris stood smiling at the head of our cubicle area. He was wearing a gray suit and a blue-and-gray-striped tie. His thinning gray hair was combed over this morning. I bit back a laugh. Was he trying to look “dapper”?

  “I’m glad to see you all dressed up,” he said as he eyed me. Rude. “Mr. Daniels won’t be here for a few hours yet so just work on your existing assignments, and we’ll have a meeting when he gets here.”

  “I’m almost finished with Micro,” I said. “What’s next?”

  He smiled. “You’ll see soon enough. Just e-mail me the file when it’s done, and keep yourself occupied until this afternoon.”

  He left before I could ask him to clarify, and I scowled at his retreating form.

  “Oh, poor baby gets to play this morning. Why are you pouting?” Lisa asked. She had a point.