“You wanna explain something to me?” she’s tapping her foot and smirking like the Cheshire cat. I grab the card now sitting on my foot and read it to myself.
Beautiful, feisty, woman on the sidewalk,
I feel like it is my fault for yesterday’s mishap and that I owed you this.
W.H
I drop the card onto the ground as if reading the words burned my hand. I had a feeling I knew exactly who it was from by just seeing the soap; the card confirmed it. I have several questions running through my head. Like how did he know where I lived? Why would he buy me laundry soap? Why be cryptic and use initials instead of his full name? He clearly knows who I am and I have no clue, besides some damn initials, who he is. Why would he find out where I live and bring this to me? When yesterday was only an accident and some awkward staring? Mostly on my part.
A knot forms in my stomach. This all seems very creepy and stalker like to me and I don’t like it one bit. I have no idea how to handle this. I hope with all that’s in me that he simply felt bad about us bumping into each other and my dropping my jug of soap and having it break and spill all over the sidewalk. He just followed me home and then went and got a new one, left it outside my door and will forever leave me be, with a simple, yet weird, kind gesture.
Yeah, that’s got to be it. Deep down I am only telling myself this. I know this isn’t the end. I can feel it. But I am not going to face that fear. I’ll just push it out of the way instead of confronting it like I do with everything else.
I slowly look up at Gemma, fully aware she’s staring me down waiting for me to answer.
“Well?” she asks, still tapping her foot. “I know that isn’t for me. Trust me, I would totally remember doing something kinky enough that I was owed some soap.” She arches her brows up and down suggestively at me.
I sigh and pick myself up, knowing I’m going to have to explain and she’s going to make a huge deal out of it. Then I get a half-ass idea, “No clue and probably the wrong address. Come on, let’s get to the shop.”
She eyes me suspiciously, rolls her eyes, sighs and says, “Whatever Marlie. You’re lying, I can tell. I will drop it for now, but I will interrogate you tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts, about it.”
I just laugh at her in a way that shows I am nervous and also that I know she’s saying she won’t drop it.
We walk down the steps and round the corner to our office/workshop. I’m excited to start my day making a new line of pieces for children I have been contemplating on for months. You’d think making a jewelry line for children would be easier than the adult items I’ve been doing, but not for me. I’m not huge kid fan. Not even a bit. Sure, they are cute and I love seeing them when they are dressed like little adults, but that’s as far as it goes for me. I don’t believe I have a motherly side in me. It’s going to be a challenge for me that’s for sure. But I love a big challenge. Especially now when shits going to get real again; I can use all the distractions I can get.
A lot of my clients have children and they either ask me to make chains for necklaces smaller for their girls or ask if I can make something custom for their darling little spawns. I finally decided to make a special line just for the little ones.
Walking into the office I smile as I look around at my display cases noting how far I have come from the days of just making necklaces, bracelets and earrings for myself or for a friend’s birthday. I’m very proud of the things I have accomplished in just a short amount of time, but I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Gemma and my awesome small team of a staff. They have made everything much more successful for them and me.
Rounding the cases, I see everyone already present and starting on the day’s work. I politely wave and say hi to everyone while I quietly make my way back to my area of chaos. I open the door to my work room or construction zone as everyone else calls it. I am the tidiest person you will ever meet. Seriously, I’m so anal about order and cleanliness that Gemma swears I would have a severe case of OCD if it weren’t for the backroom of our store that is my work area. Everything is a mess back here, but I don’t dare to clean it up. I would drive myself mad if I did. I mean, what’s the point? I’m constantly using everything I have back here. No point in putting something away just to come back and dig another thing out twenty minutes later. I don’t know, it works for me this way and I’m not wasting time by cleaning up.
After working for a couple hours, I hear a knock on the door, “Come in!” I yell over the sound of my welding. The door opens and it’s Alex my “everything” girl. I still haven’t found a proper title for her since assistant really isn’t what she. She does so much more for us and the store, but she doesn’t seem to mind her temporary name. Taking off my welding helmet, I wipe the sweat off that has formed on my hairline.
“What’s up chick?”
“Well boss, it is noon and I was wondering if you were going to take a break and go out to eat or would you like me to just go grab you a sub from the deli?”
Shit. Its noon already? This day is flying by. “I’m kind of on a roll here, so can you please pick…”
“Oh no! She is taking a break and coming out to lunch,” Gemma announces standing behind Alex. She’s not going to let this go. I have and it was a nice gesture from a stranger, a completely hunky stranger, but that doesn’t matter.
“Fine you little wench, you’re lucky my back and neck are stiffening up and we will all go to lunch together.” I gripe as I unplug my tools. I catch a glimpse of her slightly pouting with her bottom lip puckered out. Of course, I smirk to myself thinking, I know what you’re up to, you sneaky little bitch.
We all did go to lunch together; Henry, Alex, Gemma and I. We walked to our usual place six blocks down from work. It’s a nice Italian restaurant called Bello Mangiare - translated in English is Beautiful Eating. Everyone calls it Bello’s for short. I get my usual large pasta dish with a name I don’t dare try to pronounce or fake knowing what it is. All I know is it’s amazing and has to be hard on any diet.
We all sit and chat about what we did over the weekend. I repeat Gemma’s embarrassment over flirting hardcore with the gay bartender and us practically rolling on the sidewalk and getting told to leave by the bouncer. We all laugh, even Gemma, who now finds the whole thing stupidly hilarious. Henry spent his Saturday night entertaining his niece and nephew while his sister and brother-in-law went out for a date night. Alex stayed in with her girlfriend and watched an SVU marathon. I truly do have the best crew there is. They are not only my employees, but my friends as well.
Finishing up, the waiter comes over with the bill, “I got it guys, my treat,” I say with a genuine smile and in unison everyone thanks me. After I settle the bill, I stand to put on my jacket, but as quickly I stand up, I sit my ass right back down and cover my face with my hands. Everyone is already heading towards the door, but Gemma and she notices my odd behavior.
“What’s going on?” she asks looking at me completely baffled.
“Nothing,” I spit out, “I just got dizzy all of a sudden. I’ll be right behind you in a sec.” Good one Marlie. That’s a liable excuse.
She looks at me with concern now, “No way, chick. I am going to make sure you’re cool. We’ll walk back together.” Shit. She can’t be here to see the real reason I’m freaking the hell out. When I stood up to leave, I saw him - The mysterious soap leaver who I only know as Green eyes and Tats or now, H.M., as he signed on the card.
I slowly glance up towards the table I had seen him sitting at, praying that he left or won’t notice my leaving. Shit. To hell with my wishful thinking. He’s looking right at me and smiling. Why is this guy always smiling? Oh no! Now he’s getting up, coming my way and… Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact. Do. Not. Make. Eye. Contact!
“Hello again,” he says in a smooth tone like a true player would.
I can’t breathe. I try to avoid eye contact but it’s like he has some sort magnetic pull, forcing me to look at him. And
when I do, it’s like the whole world has stopped just because I looked. He’s still as dreamy as I remembered from yesterday.
Today though, seems to be even worse, and by worse, I mean a whole helluva lot better. He’s in an impressive suit. Dark navy blue, with grey pin stripes, and tailored perfectly to fit him. Funny, I never would have pegged him as a suit guy or anything really since I have spent the last twenty four hours trying to avoid thinking of him. Him being dressed like this doesn’t help shit. His muscles are covered, but you can still see the outlines of what are massive arms that could wrap me up and squeeze the very last breath out of me.
Stop it Marlie, you can’t think like that. Remember, no men. Ever. Sometimes my inner self can be such a bummer. She’s one hundred percent right, though. I can’t. I am too fucking damaged to ever think of men, or a man again. Might as well become a nun.
Still staring at him, once again like a dumbass, I finally speak. “Hi,” I squeak.
Smooth, real smooth, dipshit.
I break contact with his beautiful eyes and look over at Gemma who his going back and forth looking between the two of us. Glaring at me and smiling at him. I am completely screwed.
“Did you get the gift I left you?” he asks sweetly. The mentioning of the gift brings me back to reality.
Before I can reply, Gemma cuts in. “Oh?” she asks in fake high pitched voice. She turns to me, “The soap you said you had no idea about and was probably the wrong address? That’s funny don’t you think Mar?”
Well, she’s pissed. I feel myself shrink on the inside like a toddler who knows they are going to be scolded. She absolutely hates when I keep shit from her, but I’m not going to get off track before I lose my cool and say what needs to be said.
I turn my attention back to him, “Yes, yes I did. I’m sure what you did seemed like a nice gesture but it wasn’t. What the hell makes you think it is okay to follow me home and do that? In the brief encounter we had, what gave you the genius idea to stalk me and bring me some laundry soap?”
His smile never falters as I say that.
Not. One. Bit.
I look over at Gem, whose jaw has now dropped. She quickly recovers and turns her attention towards the hot-stalker-soap-guy to speak to him, “I apologize for that. Marlie can be a bit...”
“Feisty?”
“Exactly,” she agrees and then giggles like school girl. Good lord.
“I’m Gemma and you are?” she extends her hand to shake his.
“I’m Wesley Holden,” he accepts her hand and shakes it. “Wes for short. And I can see that she is. I like it.”
I laugh to myself because this man is a trip for sure and I can see it in Gemma’s eyes that she is effected by his male beauty. I’ve seen that look before. Good, she can have him. He lets go of her hand and turns back to me.
“Marlie.” He says my name as if trying to test it out. I’ll admit, for some reason my name does sound good rolling off of his tongue. “Look, I’m sorry if I came off a bit stalkerish…”
Bingo, buddy!
“And I apologize. I figured since you spilled the whole jug you probably just bought, I’d get you a new one.”
“That was kind of you, thanks. Bye now.” I get up and walk away. Gemma follows suit eventually.
“Oh my goodness girl, that was a little intense. On your part. What was that all about? You have got to tell me now!”
I stop abruptly, and turn to face her. I hold up my hand. “Don’t. Just don’t. Okay?
She gives me a sad look. I really need to work on not being short with people. Especially Gemma. With a sigh I tell her I will, but to wait until after work. No distractions for me while working. She understands and drops it for now.
About an hour after we return to work, my mind is a total cluster. So much for no distractions while working. I give up and decide to head home and take a breather.
“Hey guys, I’m just going to head out for a bit. I may or may not be back in today. I have a headache that’s not going away.” Walking towards the front door I hear Gemma snort and say, “right,” not believing a word I just said. Of course, she would know best. She is my best friend in the entire world. She knows every single thing about me, as I do her. I just roll my eyes and walk out. I round the corner and walk upstairs to my apartment. Low and behold as I get up the stairs, Wes, as I now know him, is standing at my door. What is the deal with this guy?
“Really? What do you want now?” I ask, clearly annoyed by his persistence.
“I think we got off to a bad start.”
“You think?” I say sarcastically.
He scratches his chin as if pondering the right words to choose. This is a wise, wise, choice. “Yeah, yeah, I do. Look, I know that our encounter was extremely odd, but ever since yesterday I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve been smiling like a fool.” He shakes his head and that smile returns to his perfectly created face. I should write a thank you card to his parents for creating such a masterpiece. “I don’t know what it is but I would like to ask you out on a date. I promise I won’t bite.”
Well, that’s different. I contemplate how I am going to let him down quickly, because I am going to let him down. He seems pretty genuine about his plea and he isn’t the only one with a feeling. It could be a line though, but why would he try this hard for one woman? He obviously is so damn dreamy that he could get any female by just snapping his fingers.
“Look, I don’t date. I really do appreciate the kind… gesture, but I can’t go out on a date with you.” The look of disappointment in his eyes is almost heartbreaking, but I also still see determination on his face.
“And what do I have to do to convince you?”
This guy. I roll my eyes and shake my head. I move to my door and he steps aside. I put the key in the lock, then I turn around to look at him.
“Nothing you say or do will convince me to go on a date, or whatever it is that you really want. I told you, I do not date.” I need to come up with an excuse why not because if I don’t I’m afraid that he won’t leave me alone. “My work is my life right now. I do not, nor do I care to take the time to spend it with a man outside of a friendship. I cannot stress this anymore than I already have. So please, please leave me be and do not show up on my doorstep again.” I can’t believe I am practically begging and pleading for this complete stranger to leave me be.
His smile falters and with a sigh, he bows his head and walks away. I should be ecstatic that it was that easy. So why do I feel so bad? Or maybe it’s not guilt that I feel, but that this all just feels… feels, shit… I don’t even know how to describe it except as weird and bizarre. It doesn’t matter now, it’s over with and I don’t have to worry about Mr. Green eyes and Tats stalking me or buying me soap and leaving it on my door step. Maybe if I didn’t have such a fucked up past, and a fucked up, “summer job” as I like to call it, then maybe I would have given the good looking son-of-gun a chance.
I open my apartment door and shut and lock it. I lean my head back against the door and close my eyes. That was ridiculous.
After a minute, I drop my keys on the small table next to the door, dig my phone from my purse and head straight to my room. I grab my headphones, plug them into my phone and go through my songs. Ah, a little music for a quick pick me up. I throw myself onto my bed and escape from all thoughts with music for a little while. My life may seem all peaches to the outside world but it’s not and it’s far from it. I just hope I have the strength to get through this damn summer.
FOUR
THE REST OF WEEK GOES BY smoothly besides being busy as hell. No sexy-soap-stalking-guy to be heard of. Thank goodness. It’s now seven o’clock Friday evening and I just got home from the office after putting in extra time like I have been all week. I spent most of my morning doing a video conference call with a very picky actor wanting something “special” and “unique” for his flavor of the month he claims is the love of his life. Funny thing is, I have dealt with this guy for almost a ye
ar now and it’s the same sad story over and over again. Seriously, I have heard him say this four times since we’ve met. I’ve even flown out to L.A. to meet him and his said “flavor” to get the perfect sizing.
I walk into the door, drop my keys and purse onto the small table next to my front door, then whip off my heels and watch one fly down the hall and one hit the kitchen base cabinets. Yeah, that’s how badly I wanted those suckers off. Next to come, is my off-white silk blouse and red pencil skirt. I strip them off as soon as I know my expensive heels, who probably deserved better treatment then that, have landed safely. And yes, I stripped that it all off right at the door. I don’t care, all I want is a nice big glass of wine, or the whole bottle, and to veg the hell out on my couch for the whole weekend. I walk straight for my fridge to get out my wine and see a case of Bud Light bottles sitting top shelf calling my, no, screaming my name!
“Well, don’t you look like you’re ready to work a pole?” I turn around and see Gemma leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with a big ass smirk on her face. I look away from her to look down at what’s remaining of my clothing. White lacy bra with matching underwear, complete with pantyhose and garters. I look back up at her, shrug my shoulders, and resume my beer hunt. I grab one, pop off the cap and start to chug. I finish that bottle and go for the next. Gemma is still standing there grinning, so I offer her one as well. She accepts and reaches into a nearby laundry basket and grabs me a t-shirt and shorts.
After I am more properly dressed, we both walk over to the couch. I plop down and take a good swig out of the sweet, sweet, bottle of beer. I rest my head on the back of the couch and close my eyes.
“Bad day, huh?” Gemma asks, leaning her head onto my shoulder and catching up quickly on the drinking.
“Not really, just a long week that I am glad is over.” I have worked my ass off this week, so I can surprise my dad and brother with a visit home in two weeks.
Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) Page 5