Are You There, Karma? It’s Me, Jane.: A laugh out loud romantic comedy

by Zolendz, Christine

  Dex: Almost died? Really?

  Jane: Well, it felt like it. I had to go to a coffee shop and eat something after.

  Dex: Where are you now? Are you okay?

  Jane: Walking home.

  Dex: You’re by yourself?

  Jane: Nope, bad luck is with me. I think it’s going to move in and ask for my hand in marriage.

  Dex: Lol. Shut up. Give me 10 minutes and I’ll be at your door.

  Jane: What? Why?

  Dex: To give you some good luck. I’ll let you rub my belly for it.

  Jane: You don’t have to. I’m okay.

  Dex: But I can stop for ice cream!

  Jane: Well, since you put it that way, then vanilla with rainbow sprinkles.

  Dex and I fall asleep on my couch with a bucket of popcorn between us, Netflix on, and the bottoms of our ice cream containers stuck to my coffee table. It’s the most unlikeliest situation, but in the morning when he’s flipping me pancakes, I realize I don’t mind a bit. I don’t despise Dex as much as I first did. The asshole is sort of growing on me.

  Like a fungus. An asshole fungus.

  Chapter 19

  I’m in the magazine’s kitchen area making coffee when I hear Nate’s voice. My stomach clenches tightly as he rounds the corner from the hallway and walks in. He’s by himself, his phone up to his ear. It’s seven o’clock in the morning, an hour before anyone usually gets to the office. The magazine doesn’t officially open until nine. Dex and I thought we’d be the only ones here this early.

  I guess we aren’t.

  “Jane? Wow. You’re here early.” His hazel eyes flash at me.

  “Good morning, Nate,” I respond, impressed that my voice sounds so steady. Inside, my body feels tightly coiled and needy. Last night, Dex and I both settled on the idea that Nate Cross set me up with Greg because he didn’t want me to be in a real relationship. The question remains though, why?

  I cut right to the chase. “Did you realize Greg was transferring to California next month?”

  Instead of answering, he slips past me and reaches for a coffee mug, his other hand presses against my lower back then slides down over the top curve of my ass.

  “Oh yeah, right. That totally slipped my mind.” His hand doesn’t move and the heat from it burns through my pants, scorching my skin. I want to turn and melt into him, remind him of our kiss—the one he implied to a room full of people was the best one of his life.

  My heart pounds hard in my chest so hard and fast I’m certain he can hear the rhythm it’s making. What the hell am I doing? What the hell is he doing? He’s dating Julia. My brain screams for me to push him away, to slap his hand off my ass, but my body wants him touching me, needs his hands on me. I clench my jaw from the war waging low in my stomach.

  We’re at a standoff. His chest rising and falling, his eyes staring down into mine. Then his thumb, the one parked on the swell of my bottom begins moving, circling gently, his other fingers pressing harder.

  I’m not sure how to react, there are so many emotions overwhelming my senses, and all my thoughts revolve around the sensations of his fingers moving softly, gently over me. What would he do if I told him what I needed right now? If I slipped down my pants and bared myself to him, bending myself over this counter, would he thrust those circling fingers deep inside me? Would he pull himself out and fuck me where Julia makes her herbal tea every morning?

  I back away, stumbling over my own feet. I want to be with Nate so bad, but not like that, not behind Julia’s back. Not when I know that after being inside me, later tonight he might be inside of her. I would never be able to do that to a friend, or any other woman, it’s just not right.

  I clear my throat and choke on my own saliva. I’m such a mess.

  “Hey! What the fuck is taking you so long?” Dex calls out as he turns into the kitchen and abruptly comes to a stop to stare at us. If I decided to not step away when I did, Dex would have seen Nate’s hand on my ass.

  For a split second, I wonder if he’ll walk away or will he say something to stop it? I shake the thought from my mind, it’s too silly to waste time thinking about. Dex wouldn’t care if Nate and I hooked up or not. None of it matters, since I’m the one who stepped away and no one saw or did anything.

  “You’re both here early?” Nate asks, smiling wide.

  Dex nods and reaches for the mug of coffee I poured for him. “We have a pitch at nine sharp and Jane and I are finishing an article we’re writing together.” He sips at his coffee and glares down at Nate over the rim of the cup.

  I never realized how much taller Dex is compared to Nate. Next to Dex, Nate kind of looks like might be still in high school. I giggle, and both men look at me curiously.

  I shrug it off and grab Dex by the arm, pulling him out of the kitchen area. “We have a ton of work before the meeting, so we’ll see you later, Nate.” I shove him into the hallway and he turns to me and laughs.

  “What just happened in there?” he whispers in my ear.

  I blink up at him stupidly and start cracking up—mostly because Dex and I are acting like two kids who walked in on someone doing something wrong. I still can’t believe we’ve called a truce and we’re keeping it.

  He rolls his chair into my small workstation and wedges in next to me. “Spill it. What the fuck happened in there before I walked in?”

  “I’m not actually sure. He went to grab a cup to pour coffee and his other hand went to the small of my back.”

  Dex’s eyebrows pull together. “That’s not a thing. I thought, well, you looked flustered like something happened.”

  “Said hand, slid down and settled on my ass.”

  Dex’s face turns dark and his whole body stiffens next to me. “He touched your ass?”

  Suddenly, I don’t want to share anymore. Dex looks like he’s going to fly off the handle. So I backtrack, “Accidently, and it was awkward and that’s what you walked in on.”

  He glares at me, arms crossed over his broad chest—not believing my lie.

  I pretend to look at my calendar, and I’m relieved and so grateful when he starts talking about the article, ignoring the subject of Nate.

  * * *

  At nine o’clock, Gail walks through the office with a bullhorn, blasting it into everyone’s cubicle. I’m mid-sip when it scares the shit out of me and once again, I end up wearing my coffee. At least I don’t fall off the chair like Richie the intern does, because he was sleeping in a cubicle.

  “Let’s go, people. We need news. We need sex and gossip. Tell me what you got!” Gail marches through the hallway and shouts the demands. “Pitch meeting starts in five, four, three—”

  All the writers jump out of their workstation and it’s a mad dash down the hallway to beat her to one.

  We’re all panting when we take our seats.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Gail begins with her fingers tapping over the surface of the conference room table, “the rumors are true about Metropolitan becoming a digital-only publication. That means more outsourced writers and faster turnaround. They will no longer be a monthly subscription, but a bi-monthly one.” She inhales deeply, waiting for the weight of her words to settle in our thoughts. I know what Gail is going to want us to do to continue to outsell them; she’s going to want to make UPCLOSE a weekly subscription, with a ton more freelance writers.

  “Ideas on how to be proactive will be discussed in our next meeting. Everyone comes with an idea or goes home unemployed. Now, to pitches—You, intern.” She points to a young girl I’ve never seen before with the kind of pin straight black hair I would kill for. “Talk to me. You interned before at Metropolitan, give me some original ideas.” Gail smiles wickedly, “Or whatever unique ideas you’ve overheard from our competitor’s offices.”

  The poor girl mumbles something low, unable to maintain any eye contact with Gail. I close my eyes not wanting to witness the wrath that’s about to unfold.

  “Do you have marbles in your mouth? Speak clearly,
please,” Gail chirps.

  The room is uncomfortably silent, and all I hear is the sounds of everyone squirming in their chairs.

  “Uh,” the girl begins. “They were just working on an article about social media influencers.”

  “That’s boring. How can we make that sexier?”

  “What if we sell it with a twist, like at-home influencers who make money in their undies?” the intern stammers.

  Gail nods. “Well, go then. Get out of my meeting and start working on it.” She fluffs up the papers on her desk and balances her glasses to the tip of her nose. “The rest of you. I’ve read through the pitches. They’re decent enough. Next meeting, I want an avalanche of sex, drugs, and stories that sell. Julia, I want you on the drug allegation scandal with the NBA. Wear a short dress and take the coach out to dinner, and get me the dirty details.”

  I lean back in my chair, wondering if my pitch of How the Romance Novel Can Save Your Sex Life, will go over. Then I hear Gail mention an article about the new sex club that opened in some secret, mysterious building downtown and how she wants a twist on the overwritten BDSM relationship.

  I don’t know what comes over me, but my mouth just starts talking, and I lose control over my brain. “I’ll write the story. But instead of the normal BDSM relationship, how about a single woman’s novice take on the place?” I blink my eyes and focus on Gail, trying not to embarrass myself. “From someone who has never been through—”

  “Make it hot, Jane. I want the words to explode out of your vagina and onto the magazine. Title it: My First Kink.” That’s gross, but I get what she means. I bit at the inside of my cheek, wondering how to even start the article. “Why are you still sitting here? It’s going to take a few days to screen you and for you to get an invitation. Go, start now, I want you there this Friday night to get properly tied up and paddled.”

  I’m hit with a hot flash as I quickly collect my papers and leave the conference room. I know all my colleagues’ eyes are on me when I go, I can feel the heat of their stares, but I feel like I need to do this article. I need to get over wanting someone I can’t have, and I’m sick of feeling like I’m not knowledgeable about sex and fun, like everyone else. It always feels like I’m out of the loop of some private joke when people talk about sex, and I want in.

  I don’t go back to my desk right away, instead I head for the kitchen area and down an entire bottle of water. So far, just the thought of kink gives me cottonmouth. I melt into the counter, close my eyes, and belch.

  “What were you trying to do in there?”

  My hand slaps over my mouth. I can’t believe someone just heard me bust out a burp like that. My eyes shoot back open and Dex is looming over me like a possessive father.

  “What?” I huff. I’m not even worried about burping anymore, it’s Dex. Last night we tried to see who could burp their entire name and I won.

  He glances behind him to see if anyone is around, then steps closer. “Seriously, Jane. What are you trying to do?”

  I fold my arms across my chest and straighten my back. “Erase him. Forget about him. Learn something new.”

  He darts his eyes to the doorway again and leans in even closer to me. “In a fetish club? Jane, you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re going to freak out in there.”

  “Why does everyone treat me like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m some asexual person who doesn’t need to learn to enjoy sex, or someone so pathetic they need to be set up on blind dates because no one in their right mind would ask her out unless forced into it!”

  His expression falls. “Jane—”

  “Dex, face it. I’m just the frumpy girl who got thoroughly fucked because the guy she was with at a masquerade party thought he was with the pretty girl.”

  “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Don’t.”

  “But it’s true.” I laugh, darkly. “Did you know that in the last—” I look up to the ceiling, giving a show of counting in my head, “eight years, you were the only man to give me an orgasm? Jesus, Dex, I never had sex anywhere but on a bed, and there we were in a photo booth in front of everyone.”

  I can’t believe I just told him that. What the hell is happening to me?

  His shoulders drop and his expression softens. “Then let me come with you to the club at least. So you’re safe,” he says, as he sweeps the hair from off my forehead and tucks it behind my ear. “I won’t hold you back at all or make you feel like you don’t belong there. I’ll just be there for you if you need me.”

  Well, okay then.

  Let’s do this.

  Chapter 20

  Fear grips my heart and panic throbs at my temples as I stand in front of my foggy bathroom mirror. On the other side of the bathroom door, there’s an uncomfortable silence as Julia and Nate wait for me to come out of my shower. I’m moving slower than usual, trying to talk myself into being able to pull this whole thing off.

  My hair drips what feels like ice cubes down my spine, and I wrap a thick towel around myself and my hair, dreading having to face the audience of two who volunteered themselves to help me get ready for my night of debauchery.

  I open the door and fight a blush as I pad past the both of them sitting quietly on my couch. Nate catches my eye but looks away immediately.

  “I just need to dry my hair and then we’ll see about clothes…” I trail off, walking toward my bedroom. Julia smiles politely and Nate peeks up at me through his eyelashes. His head is still bent down and he’s pretending he’s being a gentleman and averting his attention. He isn’t. He’s watching my every move.

  It makes me feel shyer than normal. I’m self-conscious about my body to begin with, and knowing Nate’s here watching me makes me a little nauseous.

  Okay, a lot nauseous.

  I grab a few of the outfits Julia brought over for me and laugh as soon as I see them. None of them are going to fit me. I can’t help wondering if she picked her tightest outfits just to make me feel worse about myself. Or is it to make herself feel better?

  When I lock myself in my bedroom, I throw the clothes on my bed and stick my tongue out at them. Why did she say she wants to help me if she really doesn’t? Maybe she wants to see me fail at this miserably.

  I dry my hair at my small vanity and instantly it frizzes, just like it always does. That’s why my hair is always in some sort of a messy bun or ponytail; I have no control of it, and it has a mind of its own and a weird personality.

  So messy bun it is.

  I rummage through my closet, pulling hanger after hanger to the side. There’s nothing here I can wear. I start from the beginning again and yank through each hanger.

  Still nothing.

  This is arguably the biggest night of my sexual awakening and all I have to wear is the outfit I wore for Aunt Mildred’s funeral. The black shift dress that swallows me whole and hides every curve, making me resemble a rectangle.

  There’s a soft knock on the door and Julia calls out my name. “Do you need help? Do my clothes fit you?”

  It’s like she wants to show the world how much thinner she is than me. It’s not like the average person walking down the street wouldn’t be able to tell my size twelve was nowhere near her size zero. Why does she have to keep on rubbing it in and reminding me? And seriously, why does she have to do it in front of Nate?

  I open the door a crack and peek my nose through. “I’m still in my towel, and so far, it’s the most promising outfit I’ve got in here.”

  She pushes the door open, knocking in right into my forehead, and walks inside. “Sorry, are you okay?” She says the words, but doesn’t even turn around to look at me to actually make sure my face is still in one piece. “I brought a ton of great stuff here. They’re all too big for me.”

  I rub my temples.

  “Julia, none of your clothes are going to fit me. You know that. I know that. Why do you keep pushing the button on this bomb?”

  She sighs and looks
through my closet the same way I just did, one hanger at a time. She too, decides the only thing I could possibly wear tonight is the funeral outfit.

  “This looks hot, a little matronly, but we could dress it up with accessories.” She pulls it off the hanger and hands it me. “Go ahead and put it on and I’ll look through your jewelry.” She’s much too happy about the shitty dress. Why does she want me to fail at this?

  I slip the dress over my head and she helps me zipper the back. Then she clasps a fake string of pearls around my neck. “There, that’s sort of dirty—like a dirty nun.”

  She shoves me in front of my full-length mirror and I cringe at myself. I snap a picture for social media and bless all my followers and promising them that this nun with go where no nun has gone before. #NunOfYourBusiness

  Julia grabs my hand and drags me out into the living room and presents me to Nate. “Well-la!” she explains, proudly.

  Nate stares up at me blankly and blinks.

  Someone knocks on my door and Julia runs over to get it. I do a little prayer in my head that’s it some kind of alcohol delivery service but it isn’t, it’s just Dex.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” Dex circles around me with a perplexed expression. “Did someone die?”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Nate says, pushing himself off the couch and walking over. He looks me up and down. “I thought you were going to the new fetish club?”

  When he says the words fetish club, butterflies explode through my stomach.

  “No, guys. She’s like a dirty nun.” Julia pouts and slaps her hands against her sides like she’s somehow greatly frustrated by all this. “She had nothing to wear and all my clothes are way too small for her!”

  I close my eyes to the stab of her insult.

  “What? No, you two stay out here. You,” Dex gently tugs the sleeve of my giant rectangle, “come with me.”

  Silently, I follow him back into my room and watch him lock us in. He spins around on me, crosses his arms over his chest and frowns down at me. “You can’t wear that. That outfit is something my ninety-seven-year-old great-grandmother would wear to church.”