Love and Thongs
Yeah, the piece was as good as it was going to get. Audrey sighed and clicked the ‘send’ button like she did every week. This column wasn’t just some joke for her, like many took it, it was her life. It was a way to earn a paycheck and hopefully one day lead to something bigger. Something life changing. After three years in the driver’s seat for The Thong Diaries, Audrey felt she’d paid her dues. But the higher-ups didn’t see things her way. They were determined to keep her ass planted in her chair while she typed out the column that kept their paper alive. It wasn’t the society pages or the classifieds that caused The South Beach Tribune to stay afloat, it was her work. They knew if she walked out, they’d be in the same shape most other publications were in right now. They’d be tits up without a savior. Truth was, Audrey wanted to be taken seriously in this business. She wanted to cover real stories that mattered to people. But right now, she was strapped as being the woman who created a column that entertained the greater Miami metropolitan area. In Medieval times, they would have referred to her as the court jester.
“Mr. Banks wants to see you in his office in five, Audrey.” The boss’s secretary popped her head in Audrey’s office door. Just great. What the hell did the boss man want now? Audrey stood from her swivel chair and ran her palms across her pencil skirt. She looked around her office and counted her blessings that she even had a job. Because really, with the economy in the crapper like it was, it was a wonder she didn't have to sell mouth hugs on Craigslist to make her rent each month.
Time to bite the bullet and figure out what she’d done this time. It was always something. She hadn’t hit a deadline; she’d went too far outside the box on one of her articles . . . it was tiring trying to keep up with what the big man wanted. It would’ve been a whole lot easier had he sent her a list of do’s and don’ts for her to skim over. That way her ass would’ve been prepared for anything he managed to toss her way. Oh well, it was all part of the gig, she mused. Sometimes rules were meant to be broken anyway.
Audrey passed the desk of Mr. Banks’ secretary not bothering to see if it was okay for her to go into his office. Screw that. She didn’t have to check in with Miss ‘I-Don’t-Eat-Carbs’ every single time she passed her. One of these days she was determined to throw a greasy cheeseburger at the anorexic stick figure and run. Maybe the bitch wouldn’t be so cranky all the time if she had something worth eating every now and then. Life had to suck when you munched on kale chips and lettuce leaves. No wonder rabbits were so jumpy, the poor things were bouncing around hoping someone would toss them a chili dog with extra onions. Audrey pushed open the door to her boss's office and slunk through.
“You wanted to see me?” She approached his desk and noticed another man in the room. He sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk but didn’t turn around.
“Audrey, yes. Please have a seat.” Mr. Banks motioned to the empty chair. “I’d like you to meet, Ian, your new sidekick.”
Audrey’s gaze shot to the man next to her, her eyes going wide. “Sidekick?”
“Yes. I’ve hired Mr. Smith today. He is highly recommended in the publishing industry. I thought the two of you would make a great team for the column.”
“With all due respect, sir . . . this really isn’t a team sport. I’m handling the column just fine on my own.” She defended.
“I couldn’t agree with you more. But I think we could use a man’s perspective somewhat. Maybe open the readership up to our masculine community.” Mr. Banks smiled in her direction with his coffee and nicotine-stained dentures.
She stole a side glance at Mr. Smith once more, the reason for this entire thing finally clicking. “Ah, I get it. You want to gain gay readers.” She smiled. “I couldn’t agree with you more, now. I think Mr. Smith would be perfect for the job.”
The man beside her choked. “Wait, I’m not gay.”
“You’re not?” She looked him up and down.
“Could’ve fooled me.” She snorted.
“This has nothing to do with sexual preference. Fact of the matter is, we need more readers. I’m leaving it to the two of you to figure out how to make that happen.” Mr. Banks added.
“Could we just clear up the fact that I’m not gay?”
Audrey turned to Ian, “Look, this is South Beach. It’s okay to come out of the closet.” She winked.
“Still not gay.”
“Really? You’re wearing expensive Italian loafers, an Armani three-piece suit and you clearly bathe in cologne. Either you’re extremely wealthy or you’re gay. Which is it?”
“I’m gay.”
“Thought so.” Audrey smiled to herself.
Just fucking great. Ian was now gay. Well, not really. It was either come out of the so-called closet or tell the truth about being rich. If he’d divulged that information, questions would’ve been asked and he couldn’t afford to answer them. So for now, he was Ian Smith, gay journalist. Lance would have a field day with this little scenario. Ian could already imagine his brother falling on the floor laughing until he pissed himself. It wasn’t that being gay was something to make fun of, Ian was just as straight as they came. Okay, he was more metrosexual. There wasn’t a thing wrong with moisturizing, the Miami sun could age someone quickly if they weren’t careful.
“Not trying to be rude here, but I don’t need a shadow to do my job,” Audrey sassed as Ian followed her through the glass-framed office space.
“Come on, everyone can use an extra pair of hands, right?” he purposefully produced the best set of jazz hands he could muster.
“Too many cooks in the kitchen can burn it down.” She pushed through a door, leading to a medium-sized office. “What are your credentials, anyway?” she took a firm seat in her chair, eyeing him as if she were an interrogator at Guantanamo Bay.
For once, he could tell the truth, “I covered several stories during the war in Afghanistan and I did a three-year mentorship at the New York Times and six months at the Chicago Sun Times.” Yep, that was right. Before he took over the family business, Ian wanted to get firsthand experience on what it took to do the job. Field knowledge was vital.
“Nothing about what you said makes you qualified to help write a romance and advice column.” She muttered.
Ian straightened his tie. “Maybe not. But I think I could bring a few things to the table,” he smiled, hoping his boyish charm would soften the dragon lady.
“In an industry dominated by men, I refuse to let another one steamroll me. Consider me Batman and you’re my Alfred.” She stated.
“What about Robin?” he asked with a smile playing at his lips.
Audrey considered him for a brief moment, “You have to earn the right to wear a cape.”
So, things were going to be much more difficult than Ian predicted. He’d never thought twice about how the writer of the column could maybe be Satan’s mistress. She had a set of balls; he’d give her that. But the main focus of his mission was to infiltrate the enemy and see what made their publication tick. How were they able to keep their heads above water? That mystery lay in the hands of the Red Queen, currently sitting across from him.
Chapter Two
Pecking away at lightning speed, Audrey focused on her next piece. She smiled when her own words tickled her and frowned when they pissed her off. However, the main thing that made her want to scream was the well-dressed man tapping the tip of his pen on the corner of her desk. Each click sent her fingers curling tighter into her palms, trying to stave off the urge to punch him in his healthy, moisturized face. If there were a sound effect to go along with her exasperated eye rolling, she was sure it would sound like Plinko chips, falling aimlessly down the game board.
“Can you stop that?” she pulled her fingers away from the keyboard, cracking her knuckles.
“Stop what?” Ian continued with his juvenile annoyance with a smile on his face. A freaking smile.
“Annoying me.”
“I could be breathing and it
would annoy you,” he laughed.
“Then I wouldn’t be upset if you kind of just stopped that too.” She flashed a sardonic grin his way.
“What makes you hate me so much? Is it the whole gay thing?”
Audrey darted to her feet, her chair rolling back with enough force to slam into the wall behind her. “Don’t you ever ask me something like that.” She practically shouted, her anger clearly out of check.
“Well?”
“This has nothing to do with who you are and just so you know, my brother happens to be gay. I have the utmost respect for anyone who chooses to be themselves.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked such an idiotic question. Just feels like you have something against me, that’s all.” Ian stood, backing away from the desk. Probably a good idea considering she felt like dropkicking him in the junk.
“I don’t hate you. I hate the idea my boss thinks I can’t handle this on my own.” She motioned with her hands to her office space. Unfortunately, her temper waned for just a split second— long enough to let real emotions slip. Damn it.
“Okay, at least the truth is out.” A gentle expression passed over Ian’s face, but was soon replaced with something else. Was he . . . checking her out? No way, not possible.
“Okay. Let’s forget this outburst and be professional.” She smoothed her palms down the front of her skirt, then sat down once more.
“Would you want to go grab lunch?” he asked.
“I’m meeting my brother for lunch.” She thought for a second, then an idea hit her. “Why don’t you join us? He would love to meet you.”
“Sure, that sounds great.” He agreed.
Little did Ian know, she had an ulterior motive behind the invite. Her brother had just gotten out of a long-term relationship, and Ian was just the man to take his mind off his own woes. If she played her cards right, her brother could distract Ian, leaving her to her own devices when it came to her job. Was it bad that she was mentally tapping her fingers together like a dastardly evil genius, who’d just learned the nuclear launch codes?
“Hope you don’t mind eating here, it is Taco Tuesday, after all.” Audrey pointed to the front entrance of Cantina La Veinte— her and her brother’s favorite place to spend Taco Tuesdays.
“Looks great,” Ian wore a weary expression on his chiseled face as he reached for the door handle, then pulled it open.
It wasn’t long before Audrey spotted her stylishly dressed brother, hanging out at the bar, chatting up a muscular Cuban hunk. At least he had great taste in men— which was more than she could say for herself. The losing horses at the Triple Crown had a better track record than she did when it came to her love life.
“Eeeeeeek!” Yep, that was Patrick, excited to see her as usual. His energy was infectious, making her want to jump and scream right along with him. But she wouldn’t, Audrey was the complete opposite of her twin brother. She was a focus driven individual who rarely wavered from her goals. Pat, on the other hand, was a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants person. It was what made him the life of the party and her the lump of coal in a Christmas stocking. “Ooh, who is this?” Pat asked as he sized up her new companion.
“This is my new understudy, Ian.” She introduced Ian while pushing him forward.
“Understudy?” Ian shot her a questioning look.
“Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, let’s get a table so we can chat.” Audrey didn’t understand the puzzled look on Ian’s face, but clearly her brother was into the setup. He never could hide his gleeful emotions.
Just shortly after being seated at a window table, Ian pulled his ringing phone from his jacket pocket. He looked to her, then said, “Sorry, I need to take this.”
Audrey shrugged her shoulders. “So, what do you think of him?” she turned to Pat and asked.
“He’s hot. How did you manage to snag a work of art like that?”
“The opportunity fell in my lap. Figured you’d have a bit of fun with him.” She mock punched her sibling in the shoulder.
“Me? Oh, sweetie, that man is as straight as a hundred and eighty-degree angle.”
“No, he’s not. He openly admitted it when I first met him. Clearly your gay-dar is malfunctioning.” She laughed.
“As a card-carrying member of the best club in the world, I can tell you without a doubt that my gay-dar has never worked better. Ian isn’t gay. Confused? Possibly.” Patrick took a sip from his biodegradable straw, wincing as the lemon water hit his tongue.
“This doesn’t make sense. Why would he say he was, if he wasn’t?” Audrey scrunched up her nose. Patrick had to be wrong. Yeah, that was it.
“Anything to report?” Lance asked as Ian answered the phone call.
He blew out a breath, “Well, things are complicated here.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
“Let me guess, the writer is an old bat who does needlepoint and picks her teeth with the tip of a pencil?” Lance chuckled.
“I wish.” He paused. “I may have told a huge lie.”
“Out with it, man. I haven’t got all day,” his brother insisted.
“She assumed I’m gay so I went with it.” Silence cut through, making him believe his brother had hung up on him. “Lance?”
“Yeah, um. You’re on speaker in the board room.”
Ian closed his eyes, hoping the sidewalk would crack open and swallow him to the depths of the earth. “Please tell me you’re joking?” he waited, hoping his prankster brother would start laughing.
No such luck. Instead, his shame multiplied as the various members of the board chimed in, saying hello. “Let me get somewhere private and I’ll call you back.” Lance said right before ending the call.
Ian was always the levelheaded brother— the one who wouldn’t necessarily get shady or cutthroat when it came to business. But the prospect of losing the family legacy had him doing and saying what it took to get the goods. If the board of directors had an issue with it, they could kick rocks. There was no way he would sit back and watch something his family built go down in flames faster than the Hindenburg.
“Everything okay?” Audrey’s voice cut through his moment of woe. With his phone tightly gripped in his fingers, he spun to see her, the tropical sunlight shimmering like a prism on her sienna brown hair. It was strange how the auburn tones hadn’t revealed themselves until just then, almost as if they were hiding, waiting for the right time to pop to the surface and surprise him. She was pretty— in a conservative and nerdy sense. Something Ian looked for in women. His brother Lance? Well, he would dry hump anything with a vagina. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she once again brought him back to reality.
“I wasn’t looking at you in any particular way.” His voice cracked, giving him away.
“You totally were. There was this wistful thing on your face. Quite terrifying if you ask me.” She bellowed a sardonic laugh.
“I’ll be sure to keep my eyes to myself from now on.”
“Good idea. We wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re straight, would we?” Audrey crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a knowing look.
“Wouldn’t want that.” He cleared his throat, then pushed past her and back into the restaurant. He was used to being in high-pressure situations, but with Audrey scolding him with her stare, he needed to retreat. Part of him wanted to dart out the back door, but the stubborn side of him needed to stick around. Eventually she would spill the secret of how she kept readers, and he was going to uncover it.
Chapter Three
All Summer Thong
Summer love. What a great concept, right? But it’s summer all year round here in toasty Miami, so what about those of us who can’t find our summer month flings? Are we relegated to watching Beach Blanket Bingo on an outdated television? Or is there still hope for us to see some action before school is back in session? Have you seen South Beach lately? The overflow of hotness is almost enough to cause global warming on its own. Holy
Speedos Batman! But if you’re not into the superficial intelligence that’s oiled up and on display, you may find yourself without a partner to Salsa the night away with. Not that I’m boasting, but I’ve hosted my fair share of summer flings. That’s a lie, I’ve only had one. For the life of me I can’t get into the muscled jocks that roam the beaches, looking to score a girl who is the equivalent of a Mounds candy bar. Who wants a Mounds when you can have the crunch and full flavor of an Almond Joy? Give us girls with a brain some credit, will you? Just because we look like someone you’d bring home to Mom, doesn’t mean we aren’t animals in the sack. I’m only speaking of myself here, but I wouldn’t doubt more women among us can give you the number sequence of Pi and convince you to handcuff her to your bedpost. Either way, I’ve always felt like the fat kid who was chosen last for dodgeball. But even so, I hid in the corner until I was the last one standing— granted, I was pelted in the face with large rubber balls in the end. Ladies and Gentleman don’t choose the shallow end of the pool this summer. Hold your breath and tread for the deep end. Sure, there are plenty of bloodthirsty sharks, but you might also find romance that could last you longer than the sweltering summer heat.
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