And the Next Thing You Know . . .

by Chase Taylor Hackett

  “Did Roger know you were doing any of this?”

  He shook his head.

  “Here’s a joke for you—I wanted it to be a surprise!” And he laughed a little. “Instead, it turned out to be a really big surprise for me when Roger told me we were done.”

  “Jeff, you don’t have to—”

  “Another surprise? Almost as soon as he dumped me, I realized—how do I put this?—I was okay with that. I mean, I was pissed about it. I was really angry he’d dumped me, I was angry I’d been outmaneuvered by Fletch—by Fletch of all people. But pissed off isn’t the same thing as brokenhearted. I guess that’s what confuses Rebecca.”

  “Runs in the family.”

  “I’m just figuring it out myself as I’m standing here. I wasn’t in love, architect’s bills to the contrary. Roger had a lot of things I wanted in a partner. And he was a lawyer, and I thought how cool is that? Two go-getter young attorneys pursuing their careers side-by-side. And I kept trying to coax him in that direction, shape him into the life-partner I wanted him to be, ambitious, driven. We’d be this perfect couple, two young legal stars conquering New York together, we’d do the cocktail parties and we’d be this fabulous power couple with a fabulous life and a fabulous apartment and two fabulous incomes, giving fabulous parties and taking fabulous vacations. We’d be envied by everybody. But of course that’s not who Roger is at all.”

  “So…why did you go ahead with all this?”

  “By the time Roger dropped the axe on me, I was already into the architect for a ton. Everybody who needed to sign off on the plans had signed off, custom risers for the staircase had already been ordered. Even the piano was bought and paid for and, it turns out, the Steinway people aren’t that understanding. There was no going back.”

  “And nobody knows you did all this?”

  “Nobody knows. Not Roger, not Rebecca, nobody.”

  “Just me.”

  He looked over to me.

  “Huh. Yeah. Just you.” He was by the window, leaning against the wall and looking down into the street below. “Why you?”

  “Jeff, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I don’t know. All this.”

  I was trying to figure out how he was doing, but his face showed nothing. I didn’t have a clue if he was going to start throwing things, or howl at the moon.

  “Jeff, are you okay?”

  “Never better.”

  I got up and walked over to him by the window.

  “You sure?”

  “Theo,” he said, still looking out, “you have been laughing at me since we met. And here I have just shown you this—the Roger W. Prescott Memorial Construction Project—my biggest stupidity, my greatest humiliation. You should be eating this up.” He turned to me finally. “And you’re not laughing.”

  “Somehow it’s not very funny.”

  He was still looking at me. Was he going to kill me now?

  Or try to kiss me.

  He was nice enough looking. More than that. Not like a model, not like Fletch, but more boy-next-door-ish. If the boy next door was thirty. But somehow he didn’t really seem to be all that much older just now. In fact he looked like he was my age. He looked just as unsure and insecure as I felt.

  And he was definitely more than nice looking. Maybe not gaw-jus but...

  Would I let him kiss me if he tried?

  Would I have a choice? He was a lot bigger than me and way stronger. Under the tailored shirt I could see how built he was, his shoulders, his chest. Still, was it possible for one guy to rape another?

  Of course it isn’t rape if you—

  I was distracted by his eyes. Really beautiful. Nice nose. Lips. Lips.

  The door was behind me. I could still make a run for it, but that would mean turning my back on him. And if I turned my back—

  Oh hell, who was I kidding? I wasn’t going anywhere.

  He was looking out the window again.

  “I’ve been thinking about your song,” Jeff said finally.

  That was about the last thing I expected to hear at that moment.

  “My song?”

  “The one about the typist—they’ll whisper and they’ll wonder—that one.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you know how she’s afraid no one knows she’s special?”

  He turned back to me, and he seemed to study my face. Why had I never noticed those eyes before?

  “Yeah.”

  He was standing so close. Why was he so close?

  “No one ever looked at you,” he whispered, “and didn’t know.”

  “What?” I said without a sound.

  “That you were something very special.”

  I heard a gasp, and realized it was mine. If he’d punched me in the gut, it couldn’t have landed harder than that quiet sentence. I was surprised to feel the sudden burn of tears in my eyes.

  I had no idea anyone knew me like that, saw that about me. But he did. This arrogant—awful—lawyer-person—he knew. He could see me with those soft blue eyes.

  I was scared of him.

  I hated him.

  I couldn’t look at him.

  I needed to get out of there.

  I turned—and I felt his arm slip around me, warm, and so amazingly strong.

  No, I was definitely not going anywhere.

  Chapter 25

  And the Dawn Comes up Like Thunder…

  Jeffrey

  The first bit of light was coming through the windows in the living room, as I did my stretches on the floor. I didn’t want to wake you-know-who. I had no idea how he was going to react this morning to what happened last night. He definitely seemed to be having a good time and then the pizza, and then—

  But that was last night. Who knew what he’d think this morning. This was Theo, after all.

  And Theo was insane.

  Fortunately I didn’t have a lot of clutter so there wasn’t much stuff to throw.

  Anyway. Time to go. I’d written him a note, in case he was gone when I got back.

  I stepped as quietly as possible into the bedroom. I picked up my keys and phone from the bureau and glanced over to the bed. I could see a sliver of sparkle from one eye.

  “What’s the story, morning glory?” he mumbled. That was a good sign. Made a nice change from ‘douchebag,’ anyway.

  He hadn’t picked his head up from the pillow, he just lay there half wrapped up in my sheets.

  I sat on the side of the bed, pushed his fantastic hair back from his face.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a run. Wanna come?” I stretched a little more from where I was sitting.

  “No, but if you run past Bellevue—check yourself in. I think you have lost your mind.”

  “I think you are right.” I leaned over and kissed him on the side of the head.

  “Running away?”

  “Just running.”

  “Good,” he said, turning his face into the pillow.

  “I set out a new toothbrush on the sink. Help yourself to whatever you need. If you have to go, just make sure the door closes all the way behind you, and I’ll see you at the office.” One more kiss, and I snatched up the empty box from the pizza we’d ordered late, and I headed out to drop it in the trash chute.

  More stretching in the elevator, and then out into the street.

  Thamp thamp thamp thamp.

  All the usual characters. There’s the garbage truck.

  “Hey guys,” I called, waving.

  They looked up and waved. I smiled back and kept running.

  I smiled?

  I stopped at the corner for some traffic and there was that enormous, cream-colored poodle next to me. His head was at my waist. I held out my hand and he sniffed it, and
I even ruffled up the silly-ass pile of curls on top of his head. Couldn’t believe how soft it was. That dog was actually pretty cool. Even the ridiculous haircut looked—I don’t know—kinda sharp.

  Then the poodle surprised me—he reached over with his nose and jostled my balls in my nylon shorts, sniffing. He looked up at me quizzically.

  “You can ask, but I’m not telling.”

  “Excuse me?” said the fat guy on the leash.

  “Sorry,” I explained. “It was just between us,” and I gestured to the dog and me—and jogged across the intersection. I could see why somebody might want to keep a dog around. Not me, but, you know, somebody.

  I realized I wasn’t in a shitty mood for once. In fact, I was in a good mood. I was being playful with a poodle. How did that happen?

  Thamp thamp.

  All I needed was to get laid? That didn’t make sense, there had been probably—I didn’t even want to think about how many there’d been.

  As I thamped my way past the little 24-hour market, I paused, looking in and jogging in place for a few seconds. And then I kept running.

  I got all the way to the light at Fifth Avenue and had to stop to wait for it to change, and then, when it did—I turned around and jogged back to the little market. Inside, I found myself in front of the bakery counter with only half an idea what I was doing.

  I asked the guy for two bagels, which he tonged into a bag. I tossed some cream cheese into a red plastic shopping basket I’d picked up. Did Theo like bagels? I didn’t even like bagels. I had the guy put two croissants in the bag as well. But he’s such a little kid. And two chocolate croissants. But then I thought—he’s from Iowa. And two cherry Danish. And two apricot, in case he likes those better. And I grabbed a quart of juice. Are those bear claws? Yes, two please. And I checked out.

  When I got back to the apartment, I snagged two plates, and went straight to the bedroom with my white paper bags full of breakfast for seventeen. Theo cracked an eye.

  “That was quick.”

  “My heart wasn’t in it.” I pulled my phone out of its holster and told it to call my secretary.

  “Darlene, when you get in, would you please go through my calendar and let whoever needs to know that I’m calling in. Not sure what’s wrong with me, I think it’s something I picked up at the Pierre last night,” I said looking at Theo, who looked wonderful in nothing but a sheet. He was already digging through the bags to see what I’d brought him. “I can’t possibly make it in today. I’m going straight back to bed. Thanks. I’ll try to check in later.”

  “Wow, is that cherry?” he said, looking up from his foraging.

  I picked up his pants from the floor, fished his phone out and tossed it to him.

  “Your turn,” I said.

  “I’ve only worked there for a week. I can’t call in sick.”

  “Oh yes you can,” I said, pulling my shirt up over my head.

  Chapter 26

  Who Was at the Zoo? The Monkeys and Who?

  Theo

  He bought me some overpriced popcorn, which was really nice. It was late morning, cool and overcast, but he’d loaned me a gigantic Princeton sweatshirt of his, and we were walking through Central Park Zoo. He’d also paid for the tickets. Okay, he was an attorney making gazillions, and I was a temp secretary who hadn’t even had a payday yet, so I didn’t feel too bad about mooching off him here and there.

  “This was crazy, calling in today,” said Jeff.

  “Seriously? That’s what you want to say to me? Because forty-five minutes ago you were all like yeah, keep doing that, don’t stop.”

  “Shut up, you nitwit,” he laughed, and he actually blushed. I was figuring out that he got really embarrassed whenever I talked about sex—it was cute.

  We had stopped to lean on a railing at the snow monkey enclosure. The monkeys weren’t up to terribly much. They sat on rocks, they diddled around in the water around their rocks. To break up the boredom, they occasionally annoyed each other. I could totally relate.

  “I didn’t mean that I was sorry about calling in sick. This morning was fabulous! And last night. No, I was just thinking about work piling up, the usual crap. But seriously, Theo—I’m really glad to be here with you, I mean that. I just wish the job didn’t keep nipping at my brain.”

  “Making the world safe for fast-acting antacids. It’s a tough job, but….”

  “It could be worse. I don’t have any cases involving laxatives or hemorrhoid medications. But don’t you start making fun of me about it.”

  “You say that to me, of all people.”

  “Yeah, pretty stupid, I guess.”

  “And of course you need to pound in the hours to keep your name at the top of the famous Hiromi list.”

  He turned and looked down at me a few seconds. I couldn’t read his face at all.

  “I think—I got this idea last night—I think I’m taking myself off the Hiromi list.”

  That was news.

  “I thought Hiromi was the Holy Grail, the Triwizard Cup, the Golden Ticket to the really big bucks.”

  “Well, yeah, it is, but I don’t really—I don’t know, I just—I should talk to Victoria about it.”

  You’ll remember that Victoria was my boss, and she sort of dictated the lives of the lower orders, even Jeff, who was the upper crust of the lower orders.

  “Want me to put you on her calendar?” I joked.

  “No, don’t,” he said a little distracted. “I’ll—send her an e-mail or something.”

  What was that about? But he seemed sort of done with the subject. Fine. Last thing I wanted to talk about was the law firm.

  I watched his face. It’s funny that I hadn’t really noticed how good-looking he was, but he was. I’d been so focused on what an asshole he was—he was still an asshole—that I’d overlooked the perfect nose. All of a sudden dirty blond hair seemed way sexy. And of course those eyes.

  “We need to sit down. You’re too tall.” I pulled him to the side and we sat on a bench. I was still a little cold, even with the sweatshirt, and I snuggled up against Jeff. Okay, maybe I wanted to snuggle up against Jeff. Just a tiny bit. Maybe. I pulled his arm around—purely for warmth.

  “So were you planning something like this when you pushed me into that cab last night?”

  “No! No, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I just wanted you to see the apartment—that was suddenly important. Not sure why. Why? Is this what you were thinking when I shoved you into the cab?”

  “No, I was thinking you were probably a serial killer just getting started in your career. So you wanted me to see the apartment—because you’d bumped into Roger?”

  “I guess. I don’t know. It doesn’t really make any sense.”

  “Certainly this doesn’t.” I snuggled a little closer.

  “Clearly not.” He pulled me tighter.

  “So speaking of Roger, and all that. Rebecca told me some of the story. Fletch was Roger’s ex?”

  “It’s not much of a story. Roger and I were together, and one day we were out in Chelsea Park with Roger’s dog—”

  “The Scotty.”

  “The hated Scotty. And we bumped into Fletch.”

  “Who looked like that.”

  “Who looked like that. I knew he was Roger’s old boyfriend, but I wasn’t really worried about it.”

  “Jeff, why wouldn’t you feel threatened by a guy who looks like Fletch? I mean really, who wouldn’t leave you for him?”

  “Remind me again which one of us is the asshole? Because I get confused sometimes.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “And of course you’re right. Seven weeks later, I was out.”

  “And Fletch was in?”

  “Not sure of the timing of their getting back together, but—I don’t know—around Christma
s?—I went to get coffee and heard some bitchy little first-year associate telling some other bitchy little first-year associate all about how hysterical it was that my boyfriend had dumped me and immediately taken up with this guy who was ‘totes hot’.”

  “Well, I think you are totes hot, Jeff.”

  “Why thank you, Theo.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And of course that was one more damned thing that ticked me off about the whole experience—between my firm and Roger’s firm and everybody in between, half the lawyers in New York knew all about it. First-years who’d been scared to death of me were now giggling about me behind my back.”

  “Flog them.”

  “I wish.”

  “Worked out for the best, though, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, probably. I mean yes, obviously.”

  “Otherwise you might never have met me!”

  “The thorn in my side?”

  “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of the grain of sand that causes the oyster to produce the pearl—but your metaphor works too.”

  He looked at me for a second.

  His phone vibrated for about the sixteenth time that morning. He glanced at the text, and moaned.

  “My dad.”

  “What’s up?”

  “He’s in the city today—”

  There was another text.

  “He wants to meet for drinks before he catches the train this afternoon. I’m already having dinner with them Sunday, so I don’t know what this is about.”

  “Friendly little get-together?”

  “Not likely. He’ll want something. Usually he just wants to tell me what’s wrong with my life and exactly what I need to do to fix it.”

  “Some fun.”

  “Yeah, tell me.” His thumbs were typing. “Out of the blue like this? He’s up to something.”

  “Doesn’t sound all warm and cozy.”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “When can I meet him?”

  “Don’t joke. And trust me, you don’t want to meet him.”

  “You guys fight a lot or something?”

  “We don’t fight—nobody fights with my dad. He just gets his way. Like this. He says meet me at such and such, and I will meet him there.” He looked down at me. “Sorry.”