by C. C. Piper
I didn’t know what to make of the whole concept, honestly.
“Seriously. I’m happy as a clam. You should try it.”
Whether he meant I should enlist the Wish Maker’s services, become spontaneously happy, get engaged or have a kid remained a mystery I had no desire to clarify. “How about I leave all that to you?”
He laughed. “If you insist. I’m reaching out to see if you might like to throw your ring into an investment opportunity I just heard about. It’s low risk and has an amazing ROI.”
“They all do.” Trevor could sell anything to anybody. It was his unique gift upon this planet. I enjoyed giving him a hard time about this, but the truth was that he’d made me money every time I’d agreed to go in on a project with him. Like, six figure money. “What’s the deal this time?”
As he explained all the ins and outs of his current opportunity, I traversed the short distance to my Escalade and closed my door so I could hear him better. In the end, I agreed to invest. He hadn’t led me wrong yet. Still, I couldn’t imagine him as a husband and father. It went against everything I knew about him.
“So, you’re all about the big life changes, huh?” I asked him. He did sound happy, and I found that intriguing.
“A year and a half ago, I was this miserable son of a bitch who worked so many hours at the bank I almost bought a pullout sofa to keep in my office. But then,” his tone altered to one I could only describe as peaceful and content. “I met Jessica, and all the holes in my life filled right up, you know? It’s incredible. You got anyone yourself?”
I hesitated to answer this time. Trevor and I didn’t know each other tremendously well, so he didn’t know about my past. He didn’t know that the one and only time I’d taken a chance on love it’d ended in the worst outcome possible. I made a vow to never go down that path again.
Never ever.
Loving others deeply meant losing them could destroy you. Even now, grief hovered over me like a specter as if lying in wait to strike again. It was a risk I was no longer willing to take. Keeping things surface level was the safest bet. That’s why I’d become a one-and-done type of guy. Too bad I hadn’t even enjoyed one of those in several months.
“I’m guessing by your silence that you don’t,” Trevor interrupted my dark musings. “You should call up the Wish Maker, man. Not for anything serious, if that’s not your thing. But just for fun. Tell her your type and let her know your preferences for the date itself. She’ll take care of the girl, the activities you go on, any accommodations you might need. You should do it. Everyone needs some stress relief now and again.”
“Sounds like your stress relief became something else entirely,” I quipped, half-joking, but his tone said he wasn’t kidding around.
“I didn’t think anything real could ever be on the cards for me, even though that’s what I was truly after. Now, I have Jessica and my son Joshua. I wake up in the morning, look around and ask how I got so lucky.”
I hadn’t anticipated that our business conversation would take such a personal turn, but I had to admit that he had piqued my inquisitive nature. “Fine. Text me the woman’s number. Maybe I’ll give her a call.”
“You won’t regret it,” Trevor promised, then he disconnected. I received the text seconds later. I looked at the ten digits, knowing how insane this sounded.
Was I really going to do this? Procrastinating, I hit my push button ignition and started the engine. I sat there in the covered parking garage beside our firm, weighing up my options. I’d trusted Trevor before, and all I was looking for was a good time. I didn’t have anything as vital as a wife and child riding on this. I just needed an evening out on the town followed by some possible sexy times if everything went down right.
What could it hurt?
3
Alaina
Josie, a classmate of mine from my fashion design class, and I were having an animated discussion about current retail trends as we meandered across the university grounds.
I’d only been going to SU for a month, but already, I’d begun to feel as if I fit in here. I’d been allowed to transfer nearly all my college credits from London and now my bachelor’s in marketing was within sight. I would graduate in the spring, and then I’d make a name for myself creating unique handbag designs. I had come up with a couple of examples and uploaded them to eBay just to see if they might sell. In a matter of days they did, so I knew I could succeed as long as I had a decent project and placed it strategically enough in front of my target market.
There was also a competition coming up soon which might allow me to get a jumpstart on my entrepreneurial pursuits. The Washington Venture Student Fund was an annual contest held amongst business students in their senior year. Many components went into winning the grant overall – GPA and teacher/supervisor recommendations were included – but of chief import were the individual proposals written up by the entrants.
I had some basic ideas about providing as clear a description as possible of what I planned to do with the money if I won. I’d only cobbled together one paragraph, though, so far. Writing did not come easily to me. Still, I wanted this more badly than I’d ever wanted anything. Winning would ensure that I could embark on my journey in life without depending on my family’s resources.
Which was necessary, since those resources came with their own price.
I loved my father, but one thing about being a daddy’s girl was that he continued to see me as that three-year-old in pigtails. I wasn’t a grown woman of twenty-one in his eyes, and I wondered if I ever would be. Not that he’d judge me, necessarily. It would be more like, “Sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head over this. Daddy’ll take care of it.” And while I knew those words came from love, they still rankled. Then, there was my mother.
Where Daddy was attentive and gregarious, my mom made nitpicking into a fine artform. She seemed to revel in finding the one miniscule problem in any situation I might be having and harp on about it for hours if not longer.
I’d spent my life doing the best I could, but my best was never enough. I’d bring home straight-As on my report card, only for her to mention the one time a teacher caught me talking during class. She’d criticize my makeup, my clothes, my hair. She’d even pointed out every zit I’d ever had.
“Alaina, don’t slouch. Alaina, stop chewing your fingernails. Alaina, your cuticles are atrocious. Alaina, why do you insist on writing on your own skin? Alaina, is that another bruise on your knee? Why can’t you watch where you’re going? Alaina, do you think eating those Doritos is wise? You’re looking a bit bulky.”
Her use of “bulky” was her own private shorthand for “fat.”
At five ten, I was not a dainty girl. I was four inches taller than my mother, and she seemed to find this difficult to swallow. My excess height meant even though I’d been a cheerleader, I was perpetually relegated to be the base of any pyramid. Being flipped in the air would never happen for me because even though I wasn’t technically too heavy for my frame, I outweighed the petite members on the squad by twenty or more pounds.
That was probably why I’d taken to purging after every meal the year before I went overseas.
So, yeah.
And then there was her other most annoying refrain. First, she’d sigh. Then…
“We never had to deal with any of this when it came to Andrew.”
In other words, why couldn’t I be more like my brother. Andy was both a scholar and a trophy-winning athlete. He was good at everything without trying. I adored my big bro, I genuinely and sincerely did. But I detested, loathed, and reviled being compared to him. Which my mother seemed to relish.
Not that this was his fault. In fact, he and my father would often stand up for me if she pointed any arrows in my direction while they were within earshot. Maybe that was why she saved up her negativity for when it was just the two of us. Good times.
Since my return from Jolly Old England, I’d avoided being trapped in a room or a car
with her, so she hadn’t had the opportunity to dig her talons into me yet. Being a continent away from her meant that my habits had slipped. I didn’t always sit up straight or take the time out of my day for a manicure appointment. I didn’t obsess over every item I ate, either.
I did now sketch my handbag designs into an art app on my phone rather than drawing them on my hand or arm with an ink pen. So, there was that. But I doubted she’d notice my more redeemable traits when there was so much to feast upon otherwise. Every time I thought about my mother, I felt like some scavenged selection of roadkill buffet.
Now, there’s a nice image to reflect upon.
I’d been so distracted by these less than joyful thoughts that I’d tuned out whatever Josie had been saying beside me. And when she stopped, I kept going until I realized she was speaking to someone else. A man.
He was tall, muscular, and blond, but despite being here on campus, he was dressed in a black suit. It wasn’t the same tailored pinstriped version my father or brother might wear to the office. Or the kind Mason wore, either, my evil brain added. It reminded me more of something a maître ‘d or butler might don.
Weird.
I glanced at Josie who waved me over.
“I’m Kevin,” butler guy was saying. He was nicer looking than I imagined a butler might be. Younger and more muscular. Usually, when I thought of butlers, I pictured someone like Mr. Belvedere or Niles from Fran Drescher’s The Nanny. “I work for Wishes, which is the hottest dance club here in Seattle. We’re having a special free night this Saturday and wanted to invite you to come.”
“No entry fee? Sounds cool,” Josie said, but I frowned. I hadn’t been social in a long time. Since before Auggie screwed me over. I’d been to numerous fancy dinner parties held by my parents but never to a club for people my age. Still, though, I hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“We offer an exclusive feature,” Kevin went on. “You fill out a short questionnaire based on your likes and dislikes, and we’ll match you with someone with similar interests. We call it the Not Quite Blind Date. We’ve received wonderful feedback from it, and if you don’t like your date, you can walk away, no questions asked.”
“Come on, Alaina. I wanna go but not alone. It’ll be fun,” Josie pushed. Like me, Josie was a senior who’d transferred in this year and lived off-campus. I wanted to help her but needed more information.
“What sort of questions?” I prodded butler dude. Kevin, or whatever. He passed over his phone which was quite trusting of him considering he didn’t know us from Adam. The things on the list were fairly benign. Sexual orientation. Preferred activities to pursue on a date. Favorites. Hobbies. Dreams.
I could deal with that.
“So are you in? Will you go with me?” Josie looked at me with her hands laced together in front of her chest as if in supplication. Lord.
“Fine. I’m in.”
4
Mason
Wishes proved to be fancier than I was expecting. I’d been to my share of nightclubs during my college days, and while most had the darkened atmosphere, the laser lights and the thumping music, Wishes had a classier air. All those elements were there, but those aspects of the club were all focused on the dance floor. Along the perimeter, however, laid a lighter environment with quiet table alcoves perfect for dinner, drinks, or a private conversation.
Each of these alcoves was like its own separate room with baffled partitioned walls that secluded its inhabitants from the rest of the club. It was considerably better than what I expected.
While no one had come up to me and introduced herself as the Wish Maker, the place was well staffed with both servers and bartenders. I didn’t have to wait thirty minutes at the bar or try to flag down an employee whose attention was stretched beyond capacity.
There was an understated and laid-back vibe that I enjoyed, and as I nursed my neat Scotch, I relaxed, feeling comfortable. I’d agreed to let the Wish Maker choose a date for me, but I wasn’t exactly living or dying by her decision. This was a night to meet someone and maybe get to know them better, but there was no real pressure. I wasn’t hunting for anything permanent or even substantial. It was simply easier that way.
As was typical of me any time I had nothing better to occupy my mind, my thoughts drifted to my job. Williams, Williams, and King worked on a wide range of cases, and the ones I specialized in had to do with Commercial Law. While there were some aspects of this field that I was fond of, like preparing contracts for entrepreneurs and small business owners, as well as for the occasional nonprofit, not every part of my job was rewarding.
Dissolving businesses, in particular, could be depressing as fuck.
Lately, I’d been doing a lot of watching someone’s dream swirl down the drain. It could be due to a squabble at the highest level or because the business itself failed. It would be due to a hostile takeover. No matter what caused everything to fall apart, watching it implode from the sidelines was such a downer. So, tonight, I looked immensely forward to indulging in a relaxing – and preferably sex-filled – distraction.
When I first entered the club, I’d been led to one of the alcoves by a male host dressed formally in black and white. Many other patrons came in after me, though some people were brought to these tables to meet someone else. I wondered how many were awaiting their blind dates just like I was. As low-key as these alcoves were, there was plenty of activity on that dance floor.
Even though it was only eight in the evening, couples and groups were bumping and grinding out there with wild abandon. A few of these couples were going at it with such gusto that if not for the fabric of their clothing, they’d basically be fucking right there in front of everyone. I didn’t consider myself a voyeur, but the intensity of their moves was hypnotic. I found it hard to look away.
At least until one of the club employees appeared beside my table as if by magic, accompanied by two women. One was a brunette dressed in some sort of flouncy pantsuit, and one was a blonde in high heels and a shimmery red dress that hugged every hot inch of her. It was that brilliant scarlet color that had caught my eye first, so it took a second or two for me to look her in the face. And then, I received the shock of my life.
That face belonged to Alaina.
For a moment, I sat there like a moron, speechless. Why was my best friend’s sister here? The answer to my query came a moment later.
“Mason King, this is your date, Alaina-”
“Williams,” I said at the same time he did. His eyes widened.
“You know each other?”
Alaina had a hand over her face and a horrified expression. But then she found her voice.
“Only all our lives, basically,” she said, and I felt sure this night was about to be over before it began. But then, she dropped her hand and released a snort of laughter even while a rosy color ripened over her cheeks. Despite my shock, I couldn’t help noticing how appealing that blush of hers was. Somehow, it’d gone from innocently youthful to full-on sultry.
Damn.
She turned to the brunette. “This is my brother’s best friend.”
“So this will be kind of like dating your cousin?” Brunette girl asked, apparently they were besties. Awesome.
“Maybe,” Alaina answered, not making me feel any better. Then, they both doubled over with hilarity.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, feeling put out.
“I was just, I don’t know…prepared for a blind date. And instead…”
“Instead, you got me.”
Alaina looked away from her giggly friend. Then, all humor gone, she glanced over at me from beneath her eyelashes. “Exactly.”
The effect was sexy as hell and drew an immediate response from my body – one I didn’t want to have. The moment stretched out, and it was as if there was no one there but Alaina and me. But then the host cleared his throat, and the illusion of privacy vanished.
“Are you ready to meet your date, Ms. Watson?” he asked t
he brunette.
“Sure,” she said, and she and Alaina hugged. “Have a good time, okay?”
“You, too, Josie.”
Alaina sat down across from me. Maybe it was because we were both long-legged or maybe it was just an accident, but our knees touched as soon as she did. She shifted away, but the contact had already fogged up my brain.
“This is kind of ironic,” I told her, inwardly shaking loose the cobwebs of inappropriate lust so I could concentrate. “Of all the people in Seattle, somehow they put the two of us together.”
Any plans I’d had for hooking up had just gone the way of the dodo, but that didn’t mean the night had to be a total bust. We could hang out as friends and catch up. Andy wouldn’t find anything wrong with that. In fact, he might even appreciate that I was looking out for his little sister.
Though it would be easier if she wasn’t so fucking attractive.
“So, do you want to go through with this thing?” she asked me. I decided to play it the way most guys faced with the prospect of dating their best bud’s baby sister would: cool.
“Why not? What do you like to drink?”
“Chardonnay.”
I pivoted in my seat, catching the eye of a server. “We’re going to need a glass of chardonnay and another Scotch. What kind of appetizers do you like?” I directed my question at Alaina.
“I’m not particular. Something with cheese, maybe?” she suggested.
“We’ll try your broccoli cheese quiche and your cheddar and tomato puffs.”
“Yes, sir.”
I turned back to Alaina in time to notice that she’d leaned forward slightly, giving me a magnificent view of her ample cleavage. God. I needed to stop perving on her. Right now. I grasped for something innocuous to say. “How are you settling back in? Does it feel weird to be home?” There. That’d work.