I Married a Master

by Melanie Marchande

  His eyes look so much more green today. It must be the tie. They're like emeralds.

  I shook my head suddenly, to dissipate the unwelcome inner monologue.

  "Trust me, you'll be better off," I said. He'd conveniently glossed over my accidental admission of my real job. Maybe he didn't notice, or maybe he just didn't care.

  "Babysitter?" he repeated, as if he'd heard my thoughts. "Thought you were working on a commercial."

  "Believe it or not, most commercials aren't ten-month shoots," I told him. "I'm just picking up a few jobs on the side until something more permanent comes up."

  He just watched me thoughtfully for a moment, and I kept expecting him to say something else. But after a few minutes, he said:

  "Well, I'll let you get on with your day."

  Disappearing into the distance, his head was slightly bowed, like he was lost in thought.

  ***

  Maddy had gone to spend some time in her studio space after her daytime errands, so Daniel was the first one home that evening. I'd put Laura to bed, and was flipping through the sad offerings on T.V. before deciding to settle for the Storage Wars: Texas marathon.

  I half-expected him to forget I was there, but he offered me a slight smile when he walked in the door, his shoulders slightly tight, like he was bracing himself for a stranger in his house.

  "Welcome back," I said.

  "How is she?" he asked, setting down his briefcase and walking into the kitchen.

  "She's sound asleep," I said. "Couldn't get her to go down for her nap today, so she's out like a light."

  "Excellent," said Daniel. "I hope she didn't give you too much trouble."

  "Oh, no." I waved my hand dismissively. "I never argue about naptime. She was a perfect angel for everything else, but she decided she wasn't tired, so she just played with her blocks quietly for a while. I think some kids just naturally have enough steam to get through the whole day without stopping."

  "No problem with that, as long as you have enough steam." He smiled. "I don't mind admitting that she runs me ragged, but I guess that's normal. Can I have John give you a ride home?"

  I shook my head. Much as I appreciated the job, that seemed like a step too far. "My bus comes in another forty minutes or so. It's fine, I'm in no particular hurry."

  "Well please, feel free to wait here - you want something to drink, now you've been relieved of your duties?" He pulled two beers out of the fridge, and I shrugged.

  "Sure. Might as well." Immediately, I wondered if I could somehow direct the conversation to Ben. I figured there was no chance in hell that Daniel would spill anything I really wanted to know, but I might be able to at least get a sense of what kind of person he really was, underneath that carefree veneer.

  Daniel popped the cap on both beers, and I sat down across from him at the kitchen island, taking a sip before I spoke. "So, how long have you known Ben?"

  His eyebrows went up, a fraction of an inch. I'd expected him to snap shut like a clam, but he seemed much more interested in my question than in protecting his own secrets.

  "Close to a decade now," he said. "We fell out of touch." He cleared his throat and rotated his beer bottle thoughtfully. "It's funny - you know, he asked me about you."

  I shouldn't have been surprised, given his behavior at the park. Clearly I had his interest in some form, whether I wanted to or not. But my heartbeat quickened, my throat drying slightly as I tried to process this information. "Really? What'd he want to know?"

  Daniel shrugged. "The usual. Where'd you come from, what are you up to, do you have a boyfriend..."

  I let out a bewildered little laugh. "What'd you tell him?"

  He shrugged. "Said I didn't know. But I have his number, if you want to clarify a few things."

  Picking at the label of my beer, I tried to make sense of all the conflicting thoughts swirling around in my head. "Don't tell him I asked, okay? He doesn't need any encouragement."

  That earned a grin. "All right, but can I tell him you'll call?"

  I sighed. "I don't know, I mean...I'm still trying to settle in. It's so quick."

  He nodded, obviously sensing that I wasn't telling the whole story. But I was mindful that whatever I said would probably get back to Ben, and I really didn't want him feeling like he had to prove himself to me.

  After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "He didn't leave a very good impression on you, did he?"

  I shook my head. "We've run into each other a few times," I admitted. "I don't know quite what to make of him."

  Smiling down at his drink, Daniel finally answered me, after a few moments of thought. "Well, I can't tell you what to make of him. I'm still trying to figure that out myself. But I know he's one of the most loyal and trustworthy people I've ever met. He gives you that vibe of someone who'd sell out his own grandmother - but I've never had any cause to regret trusting him."

  With what?

  I was dying to ask, but I know he wouldn't tell me.

  "So the whole insincere thing...it's just an act?" I was suspicious, and understandably so, I thought. "Why would you want people to think that about you?"

  Daniel shrugged. "I couldn't tell you, but I do know he's been going through a bit of a messy divorce. He doesn't talk about it much. The fact that he's shown interest in somebody else means he's seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. He's got walls, but they might not be up forever."

  The conversation drifted to other topics after that, but on my bus ride home, Daniel's words kept echoing in my head.

  I didn't want to be anyone's light at the end of the tunnel. Least of all, a man like Ben. So why was it, when I closed my eyes, all I could see was green flecked with gold?

  Chapter Six

  Ben

  Chemistry.

  It's purely elemental, something that just happens. You can't fake it, can't force it, can't do anything except stand back and watch. Put the right ingredients together - or the wrong ones, depending on your point of view - and the results can be explosive.

  A lot of people who met me just assumed I was some idiot rich kid who knew nothing about the way my father's company worked. They were wrong - not that they really cared. There were certain things people just wanted to believe about me, and knowing the truth didn't support that. I studied long and hard to understand exactly what it was we were doing. I threw myself into the science of pharmaceuticals, determined to understand the reports from the labs, to actually speak to the doctors and the researchers in their own language. On more than one occasion, I was told it wasn't necessary. But that never mattered to me.

  I earned the spot at the head of the boardroom table, even though I didn't have to.

  It's true, it was coming to me either way. So I guess I'll never know the meaning of truly striving for something, that fear of losing - which is what people really mean when they talk about "hard work." It's not supposed to be a choice.

  In all fairness, I didn't ask to have a choice. And when it came down to it, I wanted to do the best I could.

  Chemistry was always my favorite. Put just the right amount of two things together, and watch the results. They were always predictable, and you couldn't fake a reaction.

  That was the thing about me and Jenna. She might deny it, but deep down inside, she knew. We had chemistry. I could feel it sizzle and pop between us, and I knew it wasn't just me.

  Chemistry's never one-sided. To put it in purely scientific terms, it takes two to tango.

  She liked me. She liked me where it mattered - at the base of her brain, in the chemicals deep inside, the things she couldn't change or control. No matter how much she disliked me or distrusted me, up at the frontal lobes where we try to think and reason and understand things, she couldn't change that one simple fact.

  She liked my smell. She liked feeling the heat from my body, close to hers. She liked the sound of my voice and eventually, I'd prove that she liked the taste of my mouth.

  It was purely elemental. Pure chemis
try.

  I'd never be able to convince Daria and her bloodsucking lawyer of anything at all - not without real chemistry. She'd know the difference. She'd dig and she'd dig, she'd hire every private detective in the city until she had proof of my deception. She'd take it to the judge and I'd be well and truly fucked.

  But it didn't matter if the marriage wasn't real, so long as the chemistry was. Daria would feel it - somewhere down deep in the core of that twisted lump of coal that she called a heart.

  The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. If I wanted to keep my company, I had to convince Jenna to marry me.

  The "how" was a problem I'd deal with later on.

  Chapter Seven

  Jenna

  Just as I'd expected, I ran into him at the grocery store again. I wondered if this was his usual haunt, or if he'd come here on purpose to try and wheedle me into a date. I almost wished Daniel had never told me about his interest; it was more fun when I didn't know that Ben was just trying to get into my pants.

  He was frowning at the shelf of peanut butter and jelly, and I could have easily walked past. I didn't even need any peanut butter. But for some reason, I stopped, sidling up next to him and snickering a little when he didn't even notice someone was nearby.

  "You all right, Chase?" I nudged him with my elbow, because I felt like it would annoy him. "You seem a little out of sorts."

  He snorted, glancing at me. "What, are we in boarding school? Call me Mr. Chase if you insist on going by last names."

  "I absolutely will not." I laughed, leaning on my cart. "Seriously, what's going on? Can't figure out another meaningless formula tweak to renew your patents? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find a way to keep raking in those millions."

  He looked like he was gritting his teeth. Had I actually found a way to get to him? That was a miracle - and pretty fun, to boot.

  "If you have to know," he said, "I'm trying to figure out how to convince somebody to do something for me."

  I raised my eyebrow at him. "I have a hard time believing that's a struggle for you."

  "Normally, it wouldn't be. But I have a feeling this one's going to be a tough nut to crack." He was giving me a look that I didn't quite understand, but it sent a little shiver up the back of my neck.

  "Well, I don't mean to be crass, but a blank check is almost always well-received."

  "That's the thing." He was still looking at me in that peculiar way, and I wanted to know why. "I have a feeling this isn't just going to be a question of money."

  "So you have to rely solely on your powers of persuasion, with someone who doesn't want to be persuaded? That's a tough one." I ran my tongue along my lips to moisten them slightly, trying not to let my eyes wander down his partially-unbuttoned shirt. He wore expensive tailored clothes like they annoyed him, hanging off of his body as if he weren't meant to be wearing anything at all.

  Get a grip, Jenna.

  I spoke again: "Why not just be yourself?"

  He smirked. "Do you really think that's good advice for me?"

  "No, not at all." Our eyes were meeting, we were both smiling, and damn if it didn't feel good. The same warmth in my chest that I would've felt looking at someone I actually liked. "I just wanted to see if you'd admit it."

  "Tell me, Jenna, are you this brutally honest with everybody, or do I just get the special treatment?" Now he was leaning on my cart, pushing his body closer into my personal space. Trying to regain dominance over the situation. He wasn't comfortable any other way, and that irked me.

  "A little bit of Column A, a little bit of Column B," I told him. "You just really bring out the bitch in me, what can I say?"

  "Aw, I think that's the nicest thing a woman's ever said to me." He reached into my cart, plucking out a six-pack of ramen noodles. "You know, these are cheaper if you buy them individually. They're just trying to screw you over. Worse than Big Pharma, even." He winked, and dropped the package back in my cart.

  "How the hell do you even know that?" I demanded, feeling more annoyed than I probably should have.

  "What, a billionaire's not allowed to check price tags?" He shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping away from me. "Or you mean the thing about Big Pharma? Because everybody knows they're out to get us. That's just common sense. Chase Industries' logo is eerily similar to the Federal Reserve - you really think that's a coincidence?"

  I was giggling helplessly. "It's amazing how many conspiracies are predicated on logo designs, right? You'd think some of these sinister organizations would have just hired a new graphic designer at some point to cover their tracks."

  "Hey, I'll bring that up at the next board meeting. Thanks." He gave me the thanks, babe finger-gun gesture, clicked his tongue, and walked away. I was left shaking my head, and wondering why the hell I couldn't stop smiling.

  ***

  The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I was just being too harsh on Ben. I'd made all kinds of assumptions about him based on his wealth, his job, and one bad encounter in the grocery store. Obviously, he had a sense of humor about himself and his job, and he was more down-to-earth than I'd imagined.

  Maybe I should give him a chance. After all, I was alone in a new city, and so far most of my social interaction was dominated by a two-year-old girl. Some variety would be nice. I doubted it would be anything long-term, but where was the harm in a few dates?

  After a lot of nervous pacing and practice conversations in my barren apartment, I made my decision. The next time we serendipitously just "ran into" each other, I'd mention what Daniel said to me. It seemed like a natural enough opening, and if I managed to sound low-key and flirty enough about it, maybe it wouldn't be terribly awkward.

  I tested out a few options - so, your friend told me you were asking about me. No, that sounded weird, like I was trying to suppress Daniel's identity in order to protect the innocent. So, Daniel mentioned you were asking about me. That was better - maybe. Or should I be more direct? To answer your question, no, I don't have a boyfriend.

  Should I say yet? Or was that coming on too strong?

  This didn't used to be so hard. When did Maddy and I switch roles? At what point did I lose my ability to speak to the opposite sex?

  I was just out of practice, that was all. I needed to get back in the saddle. And this was the perfect opportunity.

  Once I'd made the decision, I threw myself back into my search for acting work. There were way, way too many auditions that were completely out of my wheelhouse, but I was able to find a few that might fit, and a few more open calls I could visit to stay busy for the rest of the week. Whenever I wasn't taking care of Laura, I'd be pounding the pavement.

  ***

  The first open call was about as depressing as they come.

  I ended up sitting in a tiny plastic chair, wedged between two other hopefuls that I could only pray were auditioning for different roles. One of them was a dead ringer for CCH Pounder, so much so that I did a double-take - and the other was a man in his thirties, dressed in a shirt and tie with his sleeves rolled up to reveal full sleeve tattoos that would inspire hatred in the soul of any makeup artist.

  He sighed audibly, and I considered telling him that he should roll his sleeves down and cover up the body art. But then I realized I had no idea what the hell he was going for - maybe he was supposed to play a motorcycle gang leader or something.

  After a whole afternoon of waiting, I never even got my chance to read. They had a much bigger turnout than they anticipated, and more than half of us were turned away, filtering out into the streets in a cloud of rejection.

  I'd actually been ready, too. Primed for a performance. I'd spent so much time and energy getting myself pumped for the experience, and now I was completely deflated. It was a terrible feeling, and I wandered towards my bus stop with my stomach in knots.

  The grocery store, and its array of comforting junk food, beckoned. I hesitated and weighed my options. I could always go to the overpriced convenience stor
e that was closer to home, where I probably wouldn't run into Ben. But they didn't have half of what I wanted. If I shopped here, there was a chance I'd run into him, even though I hadn't seen him in almost a week. I was in no mood to try and seduce a billionaire.

  I decided to take the risk. Halfway through the cookie and cracker aisle, I was starting to feel safe.

  Then, I heard his voice.

  "Day off?" He sidled in front of me to grab a package of Ritz.

  "Yes," I said. "Well, no. I went to an audition." I made an effort to arrange my face into something neutral.

  "How'd it go?" He seemed genuinely interested - or at least, genuinely interested in me. So that was something. I tried very, very hard to remember my resolution from earlier, but with the taste of sour disappointment in my mouth, it was hard to remember his positive qualities.

  I shrugged. "Pretty good. I'll hear back from them. But, you know, I don't hold my breath. Once it's over, I just try to move on and forget about it."

  Lie upon lie upon lie. I wondered if it showed; Ben might be a lot of things, but he certainly wasn't an idiot.

  "That's the healthiest way to go about it, for sure," he said, with a smile. "I'm just stepping away between conference calls to restock my secret snack drawer."

  I snickered in spite of myself. "High-powered executives have secret snack drawers? How cute, they think they're people."

  "What, CEOs can't stress-eat?" He tucked the box under his arm. "I know, I know, nothing compares to the exquisite pain of striving to be an actor. I won't even attempt to refute that. But sometimes, I need a box full of high-sodium travesty to get through the day. I just hope nobody spots me, because according to my recent profile in Forbes, I only eat non-GMO, gluten conscious sustainably sourced whole foods. Also, activated almonds."

  "What the hell are activated almonds?" I'd almost forgotten why I was in a bad mood.

  "I don't even know!" He threw up his hands. "I'm pretty sure my assistant fills those things out for me, maybe I forgot her birthday or something and that's her idea of revenge. Either that, or she actually thought it sounded good." He frowned. "Or, I got into my other secret drawer and hit the booze a little too hard before I answered that email. They're equally likely, I think."