Fringe Benefits

by Christine Pope

  Some territorial, lizard-brain part of me bristled at the company Van Rijn was keeping. How dare they be looking at him that way? That was just stupid, though. He was my boss, not my boyfriend. Why should I care who he was talking to, even if they all did look like refugees from Hugh Hefner’s mansion?

  “So what’s your story?” Jonah asked, and I forced myself to tear my gaze away from Van Rijn and his surrounding bimbo brigade. “Actress?”

  “No.”

  “Model? Singer?”

  “How about none of the above?” He lifted an eyebrow at me, and I asked, “What, you mean no one moves to L.A. to become an executive assistant or an accountant or anything mundane like that?”

  Another flash of white teeth. Jonah might have affected a purposely grungy look, but he could rent out his smile to a toothpaste commercial. “Not in my experience.”

  “Well, I did try the modeling thing, but that went nowhere fast,” I admitted. “Not that I really expected to be America’s next top model or anything. I guess the important thing was for me to be out here.”

  “Why?”

  The question could have been completely sarcastic, but Jonah didn’t look as if he was mocking me. Not that that meant much—after all, I’d known the guy for less than five minutes. But he did seem genuinely curious.

  Still, it never hurt to be careful. I replied, “Have you ever been to Billings?”

  “No.”

  “If you had, you wouldn’t be asking that question.”

  He laughed then. “That bad?”

  I smiled. “No, it really isn’t. But it’s just so—so—”

  Maybe some people would have tried to finish the sentence for me, but he appeared content to wait while I floundered. I had no idea whether he was enjoying my awkwardness or simply didn’t want to put words in my mouth.

  “So ordinary,” I finished, since I knew I had to say something. “Safe…boring. It’s fine for some people, I guess, but I knew I would’ve gone crazy if I’d stayed there.”

  Even as I finished this little speech I wondered if Jonah thought I was impossibly tedious, just another small-town girl blinded by the bright lights of the big city. Oh, I knew L.A. could be an unfriendly place, enormous and impersonal and sometimes downright overwhelming. But there was an energy here as well, an excitement born of millions of people working and striving and dreaming under impossibly sunny skies. My hometown couldn’t begin to compete with that. I knew some people would probably hate Los Angeles for the same reasons I’d come to love it. You got the impression that things were happening here, things that could change the world. I couldn’t exactly say the same for Billings.

  “So I take it you’re not bored now?”

  “Hardly.” I said. Well, all right, not every day was a thrill-a-minute roller coaster ride. However, even if parts of my life weren’t as exciting as they could be, I had to say that things were looking up. After all, if someone had told me a few days ago that I’d be spending my Friday night at a private party held by a Hollywood mogul, I would’ve laughed in their face.

  Jonah glanced away from me for a moment, over to where Van Rijn still stood next to the man I guessed was Jonah’s father. “How did Van Rijn find you, anyway?”

  “Online ad, the same way half the people in L.A. find their employees these days.” I frowned. “Why?”

  “Idle curiosity.” Then he shrugged. “Hey, do you want me to get you some more champagne? Looks like you’re running low.”

  As good as that sounded—Jonah’s dad wasn’t exactly pouring André, and the champagne was fabulous—I knew the last thing I needed at that point was any more alcohol. “Some water would be great, actually.”

  “I can arrange that.” Jonah gestured for me to follow him, and we exited the tent and headed into the house. We went through what looked like a breakfast room or something similar and ended up in the kitchen. I got the distinct impression from the irritated expression on the face of the formidable person directing traffic in there that we were in a no-guests zone. However, even if he didn’t live here, Jonah couldn’t exactly be classified as a guest.

  “Can you throw me an Evian, Hector?” he asked.

  Without replying, Hector (who I assumed was the L.A. equivalent of a butler) went to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle, which he handed to me. Apparently he knew without asking that Jonah wasn’t the one who wanted the water.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Hector gave me the barest of nods, then returned to overseeing air-traffic control.

  Jonah didn’t seem put off by Hector’s abrupt manner; he just grinned and said, “Want to see it?”

  Guarded, I asked. “See what?” After all, talk about your loaded questions….

  “The reason for all this. The ballyhooed bar.”

  I’d assumed a public viewing was planned for later in the evening, but even if it went counter to Mr. Freeman’s and Van Rijn’s schedule, I was game. Besides, Van Rijn had all but abandoned me anyway. Why not get a private peek when I had the chance?

  “Sounds great,” I said.

  “Thought you’d go for it. Come on.”

  We dodged the wait staff and headed out into the main corridor, and then down another ridiculously long side hallway. As we passed door after door, I started to wonder whether we were in a private home or a hotel. I’d certainly never seen that sort of square footage in anything except a public building.

  “How many rooms does this place have, anyway?” I asked, as I struggled to keep up with Jonah. Those silver sandals did great things for my calf muscles, but they weren’t exactly designed for this sort of long-distance sprinting.

  “Uh…forty?”

  “Jesus.”

  Jonah laughed. “I doubt he had much to do with it. Here we are.” And he swung a pair of double doors inward.

  I couldn’t deny that the place was impressive. The study was probably the size of Leslie’s and my apartments put together, and the furniture was a hell of a lot more striking. Despite the fact that I worked at an antique importer, I didn’t know the first thing about styles or periods or any of that stuff, so I really couldn’t identify what I was looking at. All I knew was that it was large, dark, and massively carved. A rug so big it seemed as if it could cover Persia itself hid the floor. The desk probably had more square footage than my queen-sized bed. On the wall behind the desk, the biggest flat panel TV I’d ever seen took up an amazing amount of acreage.

  But all of that was dwarfed by the piece that swallowed up the wall facing the windows. It covered the entire span—probably about twenty-five feet—and reached from the floor to the ten-foot ceiling. It was also dark wood, with hints of tasteful carving around an opening that probably once housed pub taps but which now was only an expanse of gleaming mahogany or cherry or whatever wood the monstrosity was actually made of.

  “That’s pretty amazing,” I said, then added when Jonah’s expression didn’t change, “I’m just not sure it’s a quarter-million dollars’ worth of amazing.”

  The glance he gave me sent a little shiver down my spine. What girl doesn’t like being on the receiving end of something so openly admiring? “I knew there was a reason why I liked you.”

  “Oh, so you like me?”

  His expression didn’t change. “Want me to prove it?”

  I raised an eyebrow, but I couldn’t deny the flicker of warmth I felt at the gleam I saw in his hazel eyes. After all, it wasn’t as if I’d been forbidden to flirt with the other guests. And I certainly wasn’t Van Rijn’s date—his actions had made that fact abundantly clear. Whatever weird attraction I might have for him, I’d be stupid to let it stand in the way of the possibilities Jonah presented. After all, here was a cute guy close to my own age who was obviously interested. I’d be crazy to not go with the flow and see what happened.

  Whatever might have happened next was effectively forestalled by Van Rijn saying, “Ah, Katherine. I was wondering where you had gotten to.”

  I felt as if
he’d just thrown a bucket of cold water over my head. With a guilty start, I turned to see him and Mr. Freeman standing in the hallway. Jonah’s father was scowling, but Van Rijn looked relaxed as ever, as if finding me mid-flirtation with his client’s son was no big deal.

  “Jonah was just showing me the bar—” I began.

  “Yeah, I thought she deserved a private tour,” Jonah said. “You know, before you brought the maddening crowds down here.”

  I wondered if he’d bungled the phrase on purpose. Judging by the arch expression on Jonah’s face and the corresponding frown on his father’s features, I guessed my suspicions were correct.

  “It’s a gorgeous piece,” I offered, but I had the feeling Mr. Freeman wasn’t mollified by my ingenuous comment.

  “Jonah, I think you should take…Katherine, is it?” Whatever his son’s feelings might be, I got the distinct impression Mr. Freeman was less than impressed by me. He didn’t sniff, but he might as well have. “Take Katherine upstairs. We’ll have everyone down in a little while.”

  “Sure, Dad.” There was no mistaking the sarcastic inflection in Jonah’s tone as he said “Dad,” but Mr. Freeman seemed inured to his son’s outbursts. He watched, stony-faced, as Jonah led me out of the room.

  Van Rijn smiled at me, though, and said, “I will see you upstairs. My apologies for abandoning you, but it seems Jonah has been able to keep you entertained.”

  “And I plan to continue doing so,” Jonah remarked, just before he took me by the arm and guided me down the hallway.

  Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn I saw a fleeting look of downright dislike cross Van Rijn’s features before the familiar polite expression closed down over his face. It was hard to say for sure, since I had to follow Jonah back to the main living areas of the house and couldn’t stick around to see whether my overactive imagination had decided to kick into high gear and I’d only hallucinated that glimpse of distaste I’d seen on my boss’s face.

  Even though I’d done nothing wrong, I somehow still felt like a kid who’s just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Some of the guilt must have been evident on my face, because after we emerged into the warm night air once more, Jonah turned to me and said, “Hey, it’s no big deal. My father hates anyone interfering with his perfect plans. God forbid anyone should see his latest acquisition before he unveils it himself.”

  “Sure,” I replied. I wasn’t about to admit to him that I hadn’t even been thinking about Mr. Freeman’s reaction—just Van Rijn’s.

  “Can I have your number?” Jonah blurted. “I mean, I really would like to see you again. Preferably someplace without my father lurking in the shadows.”

  “Sure,” I repeated. After all, why not? He was cute, apparently available, and fun to talk to. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d met anyone even remotely as viable as Jonah. I’d be an idiot to say no.

  Still, even as I gave him my cell number and watched him pull out his own phone and program the number into it, I kept glancing past him, wondering when Van Rijn would reappear. For some reason I didn’t want him to know I’d given my number to Jonah—which was just stupid. Why the hell should Van Rijn care what I did in my personal life?

  And why should I care whether he cared or not?

  I don’t know whether Van Rijn realized he’d been neglecting me, or whether he was a free agent once Jonah’s father let him off the leash. After a few more minutes, he appeared and murmured, “Katherine, if you would be so kind?” This delicate request was accompanied by a polite pressure on my elbow, and I found myself dragged away.

  His finesse somehow managed to both irritate and impress me. I knew better than to protest. After all, I was here to be his companion, not flirt with the guests.

  Jonah watched me go but didn’t bother to protest. Just as I turned away, I saw him lift his thumb toward his ear and his little finger toward his mouth in the universal sign for “I’ll call you.”

  I had to be content with that. Good thing Jonah had already programmed my number into his cell phone before Van Rijn arrived on the scene. As with so many other things regarding my relationship with my boss, I didn’t know where the boundaries were. I didn’t know how I should react to him first dumping me and then pulling me away from the one person I’d actually managed to connect with. So I just followed him and pasted a fake smile on my mouth as he took me around the party and introduced me to a bunch of people whose names I promptly forgot, probably as quickly as they forgot mine. After all, it wasn’t as if I was anyone special, just Van Rijn’s latest disposable Girl Friday.

  A few of them got this knowing look on their faces when he told them I was his assistant. I wished I had the guts to say something like, “Oh, but I’m not fucking him,” but the specter of that Dial soap lingered in my mind, not to mention the fact that making any such an utterance would probably get me fired on the spot. Maybe Leslie had the cojones for that sort of thing, but I knew I didn’t.

  Instead I just trailed after Van Rijn, attempting an imitation of the plastic good humor I saw around me and hoping he didn’t plan to stay until the wee hours. As it turned out, he didn’t; we trooped dutifully back into Mr. Freeman’s study at the appointed time, and Van Rijn listened, smiling, to the assorted oohs and aahs the bar evoked from the crowd. But once that was done, he didn’t seem inclined to linger. He spoke briefly to one or two people, then went to Mr. Freeman and made his goodbyes.

  “If you are ready, Katherine?” Van Rijn said to me, pausing in the hallway outside the study.

  I wondered what he would do if I said I wasn’t. However, I’d already made a quick scan of my surroundings and didn’t see Jonah anywhere. He was the only person I cared about saying goodbye to, and since he was nowhere in evidence I replied, “Yes, Mr. Van Rijn.”

  “Very good.” He turned and made his way toward the front door, with me following like a dutiful little puppy in his wake. All along the way out to the car I kept shooting surreptitious glances to either side, hoping I might catch a glimpse of Jonah somewhere, but he seemed to have disappeared. He was probably out back in the pavilion, trying his banter on the next pretty girl who’d come along. It wasn’t as if there was a shortage of those at this party.

  It was stupid of me to feel sorry for myself; I wouldn’t have even met Jonah if Van Rijn hadn’t brought me to the party in the first place. Just three days ago I’d been wondering if I could make rent, and now I had somehow miraculously ended up with a choice job that had me mingling in circles I wouldn’t have dreamed of. So I didn’t get to say good-bye to Jonah. Boo-hoo. He had my number. If he was interested, he’d call.

  Silently, I climbed into the car after the valet brought it around and then strapped myself in. Van Rijn slid into the driver’s seat and shifted into drive. The house dropped away behind us as we began to descend the curving, narrow road.

  For a few moments neither of us said anything. Then Van Rijn asked, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t, except for the time I’d spent with Jonah. But I figured that probably wasn’t what Van Rijn wanted to hear. “Oh, very much,” I replied, hoping I sounded a little more convincing to him than I did to myself.

  If he caught the false note in my voice, he gave no sign of it. He only murmured, “Good,” and continued to maneuver the Maserati down the winding streets until we were back on Los Feliz. From there we took a brief hop on the freeway, and then back to Pyramid Imports and the dark industrial area surrounding it. I’d never been there after nightfall, and I found I didn’t like it much. If I hadn’t been there with Van Rijn, I wouldn’t have felt very safe.

  Not that I felt altogether safe in his presence, either.

  I let myself out of the car without waiting for him to come around to my side. But he did meet up with me just as I shut the door. My own car seemed to have survived its lonely sojourn in the parking lot just fine, despite the area. Most likely Van Rijn had some sort of security guards or at l
east a security patrol that did a periodic sweep of the property; the warehouse contained too many expensive items to be left alone for very long.

  My fingers shook a little as I fumbled with the fastener on my clutch purse. But luckily it was small enough that it couldn’t hold much more than my car keys, lip gloss, and two folded twenties—the “mad money” my mother had always told me I should carry on a date—so at least I didn’t have to spend much time hunting for my keys. I pulled them out and clicked the button on the remote to unlock the Mercedes.

  I reached out for the door handle, then paused as Van Rijn spoke my name.

  “Katherine.”

  Heart hammering away in my chest, I wondered for an insane second if he was going to bend down and try to kiss me. Maybe it was just a trick of the security lighting that made him look so tall, so imposing…so close. “Yes?”

  But he remained where he stood, just a hand’s-breadth separating us. “Drive carefully.”

  As declarations of undying love went, it was a little flat.

  “Oh, I will,” I said automatically. “I’m only a few minutes away. Don’t even have to get on the freeway.”

  “Good.”

  I climbed into the car before I could make any more of an ass of myself. I started the engine, then backed out of the parking space. Van Rijn remained where he was, watching as I drove away. His hair glowed almost white under the glare of the security lights installed on the front of the building. I turned the corner, and he was gone.

  Gone from my sight, maybe, but definitely not from my mind. Was I just inventing nuances that didn’t exist? I mean, if he’d wanted to make a move, that empty parking lot would have been perfect. It wouldn’t have been the first time I engaged in some necking next to my car at the end of an evening. Of course, that assumed I wouldn’t have tried to stop him. Would I?