Someone Like You

by Timothy J Beck

“I don’t do favors,” Natasha said. She waited, and when Riley said nothing, she said, “Apparently we’re done here.”

  “Not so fast,” he said as she started to get up. “You only have to give me information on Derek Anderson.”

  “Derek?” Natasha questioned, her tone equal parts contempt and confusion. “Derek is less important to me than this cocktail napkin. I know nothing about him.”

  “But you’re in a position to know who his friends are, what he does after hours, anything you may overhear or observe.”

  “I don’t spy on my employees,” Natasha said. “I have no intention of doing it for you.”

  “It would be so easy for me to undermine your authority with your staff,” Riley reminded her. “And give your fellow managers a titillating piece of gossip about your proclivity to play Dress the Dolly.”

  Natasha stared at him with rage, then suddenly slumped. Riley might have felt sorry for her if he was a less perceptive man.

  “I only know that someone with influence in the Drayden’s organization helped him get his position,” Natasha said. “Perhaps if I knew who that person was, I’d be able to tell you more.”

  “If that’s a pathetic attempt to extort information, you can drop it,” Riley said. He suppressed a smile when Natasha sat up, abandoning her pose of weakness with a withering look. “My request is actually quite modest and requires almost nothing on your part but vigilance. Or perhaps you might have to befriend him a little under the guise of being a good manager.”

  “I’m not interested in becoming embroiled in some Ruckus of the Rump Rangers, helping Derek’s ex-boyfriend, or whatever you call yourself, get information,” Natasha said, reaching for her purse. “If you want to spread rumors about me, go ahead. I can’t imagine that anyone would think poorly of me for buying dolls and doll accessories for sick children. In fact, my employer would probably recognize my act of compassion with a commendation.”

  Riley gave her a look of admiration and said, “You’re good. But I’m better.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Judge Shipman,” he said, and Natasha, in the act of rising, fell back to her chair with a genuine loss of composure. He went on. “Bluffing never works in my game. I know people everywhere. You have an unusual name and an unusual hobby; yours was one of those quirky cases people like to talk about. Would your employer be interested to learn the reason you were sent to that exclusive boarding school? Or that your juvenile record was expunged at great cost to your father?”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Stealing lingerie from Frederick’s of Hollywood. How tacky. Then assaulting the arresting officer.”

  “You have no proof,” Natasha said from between gritted teeth.

  “And when a police detective who knew your father took you home, he made your parents unlock your bedroom closet, finding rhinestone-studded outfits, blond wigs, and pictures of Dolly Parton. Speaking of records, have you bought her latest one? Miss Sheridan seems to have finished her Dolly set, but I’m sure she’d take a request. Perhaps ‘Starting Over Again’? Or ‘Halos and Horns’? The game has changed. I’m dealing the cards, and I make the rules. I’ll be in touch.”

  Riley finished his whiskey sour and watched Natasha stumble blindly from the bar. As he’d anticipated, she’d crumbled. He’d found a forty-hour-a-week source of information that might prove useful against that little twerp Derek Anderson.

  14

  Totally Pauley

  “Do you ever feel like somebody’s out to get you?” Derek asked, dropping into his chair at a table in Quasar Kitchen, where Davii, Christian, and Vienna were waiting for him.

  “That’s called paranoia,” Davii said quickly and smirked at Vienna, who closed her mouth on whatever she’d been about to say and frowned at him.

  “In my case, it’s called Natasha Deere,” Derek said and ordered a drink.

  “Going back to work cocktailed?” Christian asked.

  “I don’t have to go back,” Derek said.

  “She didn’t fire you, did she?” Vienna asked with a look of alarm.

  “No,” Derek said. “Once Natasha was sure that Jonquil was in tears, John was feeling castrated, and Missy was cowering in the stockroom, she left. Erik said we were overstaffed and offered one of us our freedom. Since the others were already on her shit list, they told me to make a run for it. We all figured she’d come back when she realized that her tirade had missed me. She’ll probably torture Erik for helping me escape.”

  “You make it sound like the Underground Railroad,” Christian said.

  “My name is Kunta Kinte,” Derek said. “I would have gone home and changed clothes, but I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. Plus I needed this drink.” He swallowed half of his cosmopolitan in one gulp.

  “It’s okay,” Davii said. “Vienna’s off; I’m done for the night, and look—Christian isn’t wearing his headset.”

  “How’d you talk him into that?” Derek asked.

  “I’m not that bad,” Christian protested.

  “You are, too,” Davii said. He looked at Derek. “If you want to run up to our apartment, I can loan you something to wear.”

  “That’d be great,” Derek said, then looked at the others. “If you don’t mind waiting a little longer?”

  “Go,” Vienna said, waving her hand dismissively. “If we’re going to hang out, you might as well be comfortable.”

  Davii chattered about the salon all the way to the apartment, but once they were inside the door, he turned and put his arms around Derek. “Is it just work?”

  “I don’t know,” Derek said, grateful for the hug. “Thanks for not asking in front of the others.”

  “I’ve picked up that you don’t want to tell Christian who your boyfriend is,” Davii said.

  “I figure he probably knows Hunter through work,” Derek said. “It would make me uncomfortable to talk about him.” He followed Davii to his bedroom and watched him paw through jeans to find some that would fit. He took off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Can I wear your gray sweater?”

  “You have good taste,” Davii said, tossing him the jeans and opening a drawer to get the sweater.

  “Blame Hunter,” Derek said.

  “There’s enough of that going around already,” Davii said.

  Derek paused in the act of zipping the jeans. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I blame Hunter for your bad mood,” Davii said. “Don’t get defensive. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “These jeans are going on,” Derek said, turning to check the fit in the mirror. “How come you have jeans in my size?”

  “I might have had a boyfriend or two who left some things behind,” Davii said.

  “Hmmm,” Derek said. “Is it good for me to wear an ex’s clothes? Does it remind you of happier or sadder yesterdays? Does it doom our friendship? Will it—”

  “Give you something to ramble about so you can avoid answering me? Yes,” Davii said.

  “I want to know that he misses me the way I miss him,” Derek confessed. “It makes me crazy to never know how he feels. Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with one of those men who never shuts up? You know, like me.”

  Davii ran his fingers through Derek’s hair after he pulled on the sweater and said, “You’re fine. Your hair and your personality.”

  “My shoes?” Derek asked.

  “I can’t help you there; we’re not the same size. Don’t do it,” Davii said, holding up his hand. “No size jokes.”

  “I’m so predictable. No wonder he can spend weeks—months—away. I’ll be the same old me when he gets back.”

  Davii let out a noise of frustration, pulled Derek to him, and kissed him hard. After a moment’s shock, Derek kissed him back, until Davii broke it off, saying, “I’m glad we finally managed to get that right. I’m only going to say this once; are you listening?” Derek nodded. “A rough patch in your relationship doesn’t mean you’re
boring, ugly, stupid, or worthless. Hunter’s never said anything like that to you, so stop saying it to yourself. You know I can kick your ass if you keep it up, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” Derek said. “Or kissing works, too.”

  Davii grinned and said, “I’ll keep that in mind. Come on; Vienna and Christian are waiting.”

  Derek’s mood was greatly improved when he sat at the table for the second time and ordered a fresh drink. He caught Vienna looking from Davii to him a couple of times, but there was nothing for her to see. Derek knew that even if Davii’s kiss had gone beyond friendly, friendship was its motivation. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to relax with a group of people who genuinely liked him and shared a common language and an easy companionship. He mentally summed up what he admired about each of them as they talked.

  Despite the way he looked, Christian was more than a pretty face. He could talk about almost anything, but he really lit up when the subject was art. He’d been excited to find out that Derek could tell him about writers who’d been influenced by some of Christian’s favorite artists. Derek had loaned him novels and poetry anthologies, and Christian returned the favor by loaning Derek art books. Or they met at Patti’s Pages to find new things together. Derek felt mentally stimulated by Christian, and he also felt like he might be helping Christian renew his interest in an old passion.

  If Christian was good for his mind, Vienna was good for his heart. She acted tough and irreverent on the outside, but Derek realized Davii was right—Vienna was a little fragile. He didn’t know the whole story of her divorce, but she’d obviously been through an ordeal. Yet she was still able to open herself up to new friendships. He knew that if he, Davii, or Christian needed her, she’d be there for them, no questions asked. He hoped that when the right man came along, Vienna would let herself fall in love again, because in the short time he’d known her, she’d taught him a lot about love, loyalty, and acceptance. They took care of each other, especially at work.

  Derek decided that the characteristic that set Davii apart from the other two was that he was fearless. Christian had let something or someone divert him from his talent as an artist, and Vienna’s heartbreak made it hard for her to trust people. But Derek saw Davii as courageous. As a teenager, as well as with those two losers who’d followed them from the skating rink, Davii fought back when someone came after him. More than that, however, he hid nothing. He could play the campy hairdresser for his clients or ask a man to skate or dance in his arms without hesitation. Derek sensed that Davii would always go after what he wanted without worrying what people thought, but he wasn’t ruthless, as he’d proved by respecting the boundaries of Derek’s relationship with Hunter.

  “He’s doing it again,” Christian said.

  “Derek, come back,” Vienna said.

  Derek realized they were talking about him and looked around the table at his friends. Christian seemed to be scanning the surrounding area to see what might have diverted Derek’s attention. Vienna was staring at him with an expectant expression, as if waiting for a story. Davii was giving him a pointed look and tilted his head. Derek followed Davii’s eyes and saw one of the mall’s maintenance men standing on a ladder in the courtyard, showing his physique to good advantage as he replaced a lightbulb.

  Vienna intercepted their look, rolled her eyes, and said, “According to Kinsey, fifty-four percent of men think about sex every day or several times a day.”

  “Not me. I’m above average,” Christian said.

  “Not if you’re in the forty-six percent,” Vienna said.

  “I meant the ‘several times,’” Christian said. “I guess it depends on your definition of ‘several.’”

  “Math and sex don’t mix,” Davii said.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Derek disagreed. “I had this algebra teacher in college. I never skipped one of his classes. When he wrote on the board, I couldn’t take my eyes off—”

  “What was your grade?” Davii interrupted.

  “I passed. Barely.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. Math and sex don’t mix.”

  Disgruntled, Derek said, “Do you want to hear this story or not?”

  “Yes!” Christian said. When Vienna turned to him and pointedly arched a penciled eyebrow, he added, “If the only sex I get is vicarious, I don’t care who the players are.”

  Derek and Davii stared at him for a moment, then Derek said, “Anyway, Dr. Bunn—”

  “You’re making that name up,” Davii said.

  “—had the most amazing ass. He’d work out problems on the board, and I had no idea what he was talking about. Even if I tried to think of him as x and me as y, my fantasy about what came after the equal sign was usually both of us, multiple times. This wasn’t conducive to learning algebra, something I couldn’t explain to my parents when my grades arrived during Christmas break.”

  “How old were you?” Vienna asked.

  “Almost nineteen,” Derek said.

  “And Dr. Bunn?”

  “I don’t know. I thought he was old at the time, but he was probably in his late twenties.”

  “Tell the story,” Christian said.

  “After I promised to apply myself, my parents sent me back second semester. It was really cold that year, so when a friend invited me to a party some graduate student was having, I almost didn’t go. At the last minute, I changed my mind. It was snowing when we walked to this dumpy old house that had lousy heat, so I kept my coat on, even though everybody else was leaving theirs in a back bedroom. I did a couple of tequila shots to warm up. I was bored and would have left, but I couldn’t stand to think of going back outside. And then Dr. Bunn showed up.”

  “Details,” Davii ordered when Derek paused.

  “Dr. Bunn was immediately surrounded by fawning students and wasn’t paying any attention to me. I was just some geeky freshman lacking math skills. A boy has to work with what he’s got, so off came the coat, and I went into hyper mode, going from group to group, cracking jokes, telling stories, always moving on as soon as I had everyone laughing loudly enough for Dr. Bunn to notice. Once I was sure I had his attention, I picked up my coat and walked to the back bedroom. Then Dr. Bunn came in and closed the door behind him. He rested against it, looking at me as if daring me to make the first move. I crossed the room, put my hands on his biceps, pushed him against the door, and kissed him hard. Our mouths stayed fused while our hands fumbled and strained at our clothes, and finally, I stepped back to look at my fantasy.”

  Derek paused again. They were all leaning forward, including Vienna, and Davii finally broke the silence by prompting, “And?”

  “And nothing. I’m just making this shit up as I go along,” Derek lied.

  “I knew it,” Davii said.

  “Damn,” Christian said, looking crestfallen.

  Vienna stared at Christian. “You’re sounding very bi-curious.”

  “I can satisfy your curiosity,” Derek volunteered.

  “I knew him first,” Davii said.

  “I’d already turned Dr. Bunn into a woman in my mind,” Christian said. “I was just trying to cast her from among a group of actresses.”

  “Right. When somebody’s talking about biceps, most people start visualizing actresses,” Vienna scoffed. “Derek’s story does have a moral.”

  “I like immoral stories better,” Davii said.

  “The moral is that I should have gone to college so I’d have my own stories,” Christian said.

  “The moral is that Derek learned to be rewarded for showing off,” Vienna corrected. “A hot encounter with Dr. Bunn, our undivided attention—it’s all the same.”

  “Um, not really,” Derek said. He grabbed the check when the waiter brought it to the table and said, “I’m getting this one.”

  “At least let me take care of the tip,” Christian said.

  “No. You guys are always paying for everything.”

  “I hate it when people haggle over a check,”
Davii said.

  Vienna grinned at him and said, “That must be why you never pick one up.”

  Derek listened to them banter as they walked into the courtyard. Vienna was wrong—he didn’t need their undivided attention. It was enough that he had friends whose laughter and conversation could get him through bad moments. “I don’t feel like going home. Let’s do something else,” he begged.

  “We could catch a show at the planetarium,” Christian suggested.

  “Hello,” Davii said. “We can walk outside and see the stars for free.”

  “Not the way we can see them in the planetarium,” Vienna said. “Unless you have a telescope.”

  “I was wondering what he had in his pocket,” Derek said.

  “Fine,” Davii said, cuffing Derek’s neck. “The planetarium it is.”

  When they got there, Derek smoothly stepped in front of them and once again whipped out his Visa card. As he handed them their tickets, Vienna gave him her thank you with a mild scowl, and Christian gave him a look of reproach. Davii just hugged him, seeming to understand that Derek needed to treat them.

  They walked inside the planetarium, which was nearly empty. A little girl sat with her father about midway around. A couple sat in the back row on the far side. A man by himself was on the first row in front of the couple.

  “They’re really packing them in tonight,” Vienna said.

  “It’s the dinner hour,” Davii said. “This is the best time to come here if you want to—”

  “Which we don’t,” Vienna cut him off, plopping into a seat in the front row directly opposite the solitary man.

  Christian sat on one side of her and Davii sat on the other, leaving Derek to take the seat next to Davii. He settled back to stare up at the dome. It was their constellation show, narrated by Indianapolis’s favorite daughter, Jane Pauley. Still full from dinner, Derek became drowsy and leaned his head on Davii’s shoulder. Davii shifted so Derek would be more comfortable, and he dozed a little, having already seen the show several times in the past.

  He thought about Dr. Bunn. That incident seemed like it had happened to a different Derek. He’d forgotten how aggressive he was back then. But hadn’t that brazen quality been what made him come on so strong to Hunter in their first meeting? He couldn’t understand when he’d lost his cocksure attitude.