by Camy Tang
From Jerry.
“I was sitting! At my computer! He was standing! Behind me! And he just bleaugh!” Cari erupted into fresh hysterics.
Lex clapped one hand - not the one holding the dirty tissue, which seemed rather insignificant now - to her mouth. Her stomach roiled. Don’t breathe. Don’t look. Right now, that morning cereal didn’t want to stay in her tummy. No, don’t think about the cereal! Lex needed to get to the women’s restroom.
Jerry sagged against a cubicle wall, which tilted precariously. “I’m sorry, Cari.” He heaved a long, slow sigh. “I only had a few beers last night . . .”
Suddenly his eyes grew large. His face dulled to Elmer’s glue. He pressed his large, loose lips together.
And unleashed all over the carpet.
A collective chorus of “Ewww!”s rose from the other people who had gathered to Cari’s frantic call. Lex couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Her vision started to cloud . . .
Jerry coughed and spit.
Lex dashed to the bathroom.
SEVEN
Lex sat outside on a curb in the parking lot. The feeble sun warmed her head and made her straight hair feel like a helmet. She took another deep breath, and smelled blessed nothing. Nothing strong, that is. A whiff of mowed grass, a tingle of mulchy earth, a tease of something flowery, but mostly just fresh, unscented air. Nothing to cause her volcanic stomach to erupt again.
She stared at the ants weaving circles around her shoe soles. She wasn’t a very good ant worker at this startup company. She wondered if ant queens were anything like unreasonable Everett or Anna’s moody manager.
Maybe she ought to qu —
No, that was bad. Shouldn’t she be content? I have learned the secret of being content in each and every circumstance . . .
Lex wondered if Paul ever had to endure an illogical argument with Peter like Lex had with Everett. Peter must have been a more reasonable guy, right?
No, she needed patient endurance. She had to run the race. She had to love her enemies.
She needed a stronger stomach.
She should just qu —Don’t say it!
Chirping. Chirping. Strange-sounding bird . . . Oh! Her cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Lex, it’s Chester.”
Her cousin rarely ever called her. “What’s up?”
“I’m going to make you smile today, coz. There’s a job opening here.”
“Shut up! No way. For what position?”
“Uh . . .”
Oh great. “Don’t try to lie to me, Chester.”
“Receptionist.”
Lex groaned. “How much pay?”
“Minimum wage.”
What a pay cut. But still — a rare opening at SPZ! Even if SPZ wasn’t one of the hottest new dot coms in Silicon Valley, Lex had only ever dreamed of working at the sports website mecca of North America. Sports, all day, every day. High school, college, and pro.
Stats galore. It made Lex’s head spin.
Could she be a receptionist? Just the thought made her cringe a little. Wearing makeup and nice suits and being polite to stupid people? Like Lex didn’t already have to be nice to stu — er, difficult people. “It’s a foot in the door, right, Chester?”
“Sure. Except for some internal shuffling, SPZ hasn’t hired anyone since last July. And Lex, you’re going to owe me big time — I know the hiring manager personally.”
“I’ll email you my résumé tonight.”
“Turn that thing down!” Lex leaned back in her chair to holler through the kitchen door into the living room. The TV volume didn’t move.
She sounded off. “Dad! Richard!”
“Okay, okay.” Her older brother Richard slid off the couch and grabbed the remote from the coffee table. The sound of the basketball game lowered a miniscule decibel.
Lex stared at her archaic laptop. She pushed her chair back so she could lean her forearms on the kitchen table, and the metal feet shuddered against the cracked linoleum.
“Education: San Jose State University . . .”
The commentator’s voice cut through her concentration. “Whoa!
What a shot by Kobe Bryant. The Lakers are up by three . . .”
“Major: Electrical engineering . . .”
“Can you feel the heat? Suns tie . . .”
“Work experience . . . City Beach Volleyball Club: Receptionist . . .” She didn’t have to put down that they fired her after two days, right?
“Four seconds left, and oh! That foul must’ve hurt . . .”
“Manufacturing Engineer at Pear Technology for two years . . .”
“And he missed the second free throw! The Suns have a chance for the playoffs!”
“Ooh, ooh — ” Lex jumped up from her chair and darted into the living room. She had to see this. She caught Steve Nash sending a beautiful shot sailing through the air, the flicker of camera flashes . . .
“He did it! Suns win!”
Lex and Dad roared and pumped victory fists while Richard moaned and sank lower into the sagging couch.
Lex stepped on something soft as she turned back to the kitchen. Richard’s dirty socks, which he’d pulled off when he arrived at the house earlier tonight. “Richard, you’ve got three other pairs in the corner.” Lex nodded to a stack of gray socks by the end of the couch. She kicked the ones under her feet in his direction too.
“Oh, good. I’m running out.”
“And you can’t do laundry here, the washer’s being a pain. Do it at your apartment.”
“The laundry room charges two bucks!”
“Not my problem.” Lex walked back into the kitchen.
Her gaze fell on the stack of plates and cups in the sink. She turned around to shout back into the living room. “And wash your dishes before you leave tonight!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I mean it!”
“Dad dirtied dishes too.”
“And Dad’s usually the one who washes yours! Wash your own dishes tonight!”
“Is it that time of the month?”
“I don’t have to cook for you on Sunday, you know.”
Richard’s groan meant he’d do the dishes. Pizza and Chinese takeout got old fast for a bachelor living by himself.
Lex sat at the table again and touched the trackpad.
Nothing. The mouse arrow didn’t move.
“No! No no no no no!”
“Whatcha doing?” Richard sauntered into the kitchen and sat in the chair next to her. His arm brushed hers, and she twitched away.
“Résumé. At least, I was until the computer froze.” She tried a few keystrokes.
“You finally quit from Pear?”
“Not yet.” Lex glowered at the unchanging screen.
“Which company is this for?”
Lex pounded a key over and over. “SPZ.”
“Whoa! Doing what? I’m the programmer — I should be the one applying.”
Lex shot him a wicked look. “Oh, you’d be perfect for the position.” She did a hard restart of the laptop.
He knew her too well. His excited expression shifted to guarded and wary. “What position? Lemme guess. Janitor?”
“No, this is more in your line, since you’re so chaaahming.” Lex fluttered nonexistent lashes like his most recent psycho ex-girlfriend had done.
Richard closed his eyes and exhaled low in his throat. “Give it up already. She went back to China. What’s the position for?”
“Receptionist.”
Richard coughed. “You? Receptionist? Miss I-don’t-want-to-hear-your-problems?”
“Hey, it’s at SPZ, baby! And I can’t stay at Pear anymore.”
“You’re finally admitting it? You’ve been keeping your goodChristian-girl stiff upper lip for two years.”
“Can you not knock my faith for just one second?”
“Okay, okay. So what’s making you think of quitting?”
“The Gorgon admin. Cari the Princess. The Gossip Twins
. Everett the Super Swine. Jerry the Drunk.”
“You do nothing but monku-monku-monku about those people. The difference today was . . . ?”
Lex didn’t want to relive the horror. “I realized I’d never want to meet anyone those people knew.”
“Meet? What?” Richard’s slashing brows met above his stern nose.
Uh, oh. Her big mouth. Much as she loved Richard, no way could she tell him about Grandma’s ultimatum. “I was going to ask for the names of real-estate agents they’ve used, but they were so impossible that I realized I didn’t want their recommendations. Then Chester called, and I thought, ‘I should just quit and work someplace I’d actually want to be.’ ”
“It’s a pay cut, right?”
“But think about it. It’s SPZ. The single largest sports presence on the net. It’s like the iPod of the sports world. How much better can you get?”
“Something besides a receptionist position that pays less than nothing.”
“You’re thinking too negatively. I’ll be surrounded by sports all day. I’ll be in Nirvana.”
“While answering phones and talking to stupid people?”
Richard knew her too well. “Maybe I can get promoted or transferred. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could work there. They hardly ever hire new blood, and I don’t have the skill set, but here’s my chance.”
Richard glanced at the rebooted computer. “You wanted a real-estate agent? You can’t move out if you’re working for minimum wage. Not in the Bay Area, anyway.”
True . . . “But I have some saved up. If I live a few more months with Dad, I’ll have enough for a down payment. And I’ll rent out a room — lots of people do.”
“I know a real-estate agent.”
“Oh?”
Richard flashed that famous grin, the one that made women flock to him like cats to an ahi steak. “He’s your type too.”
“No th — ” The disgusted refusal came automatically, but then Lex remembered what had changed in her crazy life. Namely, Grandma’s claws. “Well . . . okay.”
Richard’s eyebrows disappeared under his four-hundred-dollar sculpted haircut. “Really?”
Hastily, “Well, I don’t have any other recommendations.”
His eyes narrowed, and a smirk made his dimples flash. “For a real-estate agent, or a date?”
“Shut up.”
Richard smiled.
George had a face like an Asian Backstreet Boy — clean-cut, good-looking, with that indefinable sparkle-charm. A hint of sexy.
“Nice to meet you.” Lex dropped his hand like a hot cup of tea, opening and closing her fingers. She still couldn’t get used to even professional touches by strange men.
He didn’t get the hint. His other hand landed on her shoulder —meant to be a reassuring gesture, but she became as skittish as a racehorse. Get your hand off me.
“I’ve got some great condos that you’ll fall in love with.” George finally dropped his arm when Lex took a giant step back.
“Let’s go see them.”
“I’ll drive.” He gestured with pride to his gleaming Lexus SUV.
“I’ll follow you in my car.”
As she looked at condos, Lex felt like Goldilocks, except without little Junior Bear to lend her his chair and porridge and bed.
The first condo was too far away — not from her current workplace, but if she got the job at SPZ, it would be more than an hour’s drive.
The second place had an astronomical price tag — not too bad on her current salary, but it would take 130 percent of a minimum-wage paycheck. And Lex would have a hard time hiding her potential job switcheroo plans, at least until the loan application came through.
The third house was a dump labeled as a “fixer-upper” —affordable on a receptionist’s salary, but she’d be eating ramen noodles every day for a couple years. Plus, it had that ratty air of a place that would start to fall apart as soon as she breathed her first sigh as the legitimate owner.
“Well, that’s all I have for today.” George walked her out to her rusted bucket, looking forlorn next to his hulking Lexus.
“Thanks, George. I appreciate you taking me to these places.” Even though I can’t afford most of these houses if I quit, but if I tell you I’m going to quit, you and the loan officer are going to abandon me faster than a smoking Pinto.
“Are you going home now?” George leaned against her car frame. Her Honda gave a sighing creak.
Weird question for an agent. “Uh . . . yeah.”
“I wondered if you’d like to go out to dinner with me tonight.”
Whoa, momma! Did he just ask for a real date? He didn’t go the safer, less committed “Give me your email address” route that most engineers in Silicon Valley took. Not even the Starbucks coffee-hour option. Full-blown dinner. You landed yourself a winner, toots.
She should have hurled herself in his arms. Instead, she hesitated. Dark memories wove on the edges of her mind. Her gut clenched for only a moment, then released.
No, you’re bigger than that. You can do this. The volleyball girls needed her. Grandma wouldn’t win.
“I’d love dinner, George. Where?”
EIGHT
Thank goodness for the casual California dress code. Lex entered Crustaceans Restaurant in Santana Row and knew her simple cotton skirt wouldn’t look out of place. Some diners were dressed up, but others wore jeans.
She actually felt kind of special being seated with such a good-looking guy. Except that George also noticed the appreciative feminine glances he collected.
“Do you know those girls?” Lex nodded at the scantily-clad gigglers who were batting their eyelashes from a couple tables away.
George whipped his attention back to Lex. “Uh . . . no.” He flashed that bright, warm smile. Lex would have felt enveloped by it if she hadn’t seen the girls over his shoulder still ogling him. Look all you want, girlies. He’s with me.
He seemed to welcome the attraction, which didn’t bode well for item number five on her Ephesians List — the whole faithfulness issue. Well, she had all dinner to weigh him against the List.
Lex skimmed the menu, but she knew what she wanted to eat. Same thing she always got.
George glanced up at her. “Want to split a crab wonton appetizer?”
“Sure. Good choice.” To add to the List: Must enjoy good food as much as me.
The waitress appeared at the table like a genie, and dressed like one too, in a gauzy jewel-toned Vietnamese dress. “Do you know what you’d like to order?” Her bell-like voice tinkled.
George’s eyes didn’t immediately raise from his menu to the waitress’s face — he took a rather slow journey over her slender curves. Lex’s jaw flexed. That was strike two on the faithfulness point of the List. This might be a short date.
“We’ll share the crab wontons. I’ll have a Caesar salad and the garlic-roasted crab with garlic noodles.”
At least he had good taste in food. “I’ll have the same.” Lex handed the oversized menu to the waitress.
George leaned forward. “You work at Pear Technologies?”
She winced. So not her favorite topic. “Yeah.”
“How do you like working there?”
“Um . . .” Her boss was Captain Hook, her coworkers were nuttier than the seven dwarves, and she was worked harder than the Israelite slaves in Egypt. Not the most P.C. answer. “It’s okay.”
An awkward silence fell between them. Actually, it felt more like the embarrassed quiet that hushed a restaurant when someone dropped a platter full of dishes onto the floor.
“So, Lex, have you read the bestseller by that Asian author who goes by the pseudonym Mr. Roboto?”
Lex blinked. He was kidding, right? “Uh . . . I don’t think Mr.
Roboto is Asian.”
“What do you mean? Of course he must be Asian. That famous song was Chinese or something.”
She stared at him so hard, her eyes crossed. He was a complete idiot
. “ ‘Domo arigato’ is Japanese, and that song was by Styx.”
George gave her a Well, duh look. “And they did that ‘Sukiyaki’ song too.”
“What?” Wasn’t ‘Sukiyaki’ by Taste of Honey or something like that?
He sat back, his eyes heavy-lidded. “You didn’t know that? I thought you would, being Asian and all.” He smiled. All that was missing was a condescending pat on her head.
Her gaze narrowed. Was it really possible for him to be such a blockhead?
Here in the Bay Area, hardly anyone brought up her Asian-ness —it would be like living in Dallas and commenting on someone’s Texas drawl. A part of her was in shock at how he’d been both insulting and idiotic, while her hand itched to smack that condescending smirk off his face.
Control yourself, babe. You’re in Crustaceans and you’re about to have a fabulous free meal. Remember the free part. She managed a strained smile. “You’re so multicultural.” Oh, gag me. “What’s your ethnic background?”
“Oh, I’m an American citizen. I grew up in San Jose . . .”
To add to the List: No ignorant ethnic remarks. Wasn’t that already in Ephesians somewhere?
While he spouted off on his childhood, her mind wandered.
Maybe she should have politely shut him down instead of appeasing him. This date had already started downhill. Why waste her whole evening?
The burning question: Is the garlic crab that important to you? She hadn’t had it in three months. Ninety-seven days, to be exact. And George was paying. Decisions, decisions . . .
“You know, you remind me of someone.” He squinted at her. Problem was, he squinted quite a bit below her chin.
Lex sensed another goober remark up ahead.
George snapped his fingers. “I know. You remind me of my ex-girlfriend.”
Hadn’t anyone told him that mentioning ex-girlfriends while on a date was like begging to have his car keyed?
“Yeah, you look exactly like her . . . except she was cuter — er, younger.”
Younger? She was only thirty!
“And she had a different body.” He sketched an impossible hourglass in midair — something like a 42 – 12 – 42. “And she had a larger caboose.”
The room darkened. A blood-red haze blurred his face in her vision. “That’s a little too personal.”