I take one last look at Ben’s glorious new office, then Charley and I beat it out of there. We close the door for the big reveal.
When Ben approaches, he looks both excited and terrified. “You ready?” I ask him for the benefit of the camera. If it were up to me, I’d run in the other direction while he sees what I’ve done. If I know Ben like I think I’m starting to, even if he doesn’t hate the changes I’ve made, he’s going to pretend to just to get my goat. The key will be to stand by my design and let the American public decide if they like it or not.
Ben doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he gestures with his hand for me to open the door. After I do so, he pushes past me — oh, wow, does he smell good — and stands in utter silence while he looks around the room. “It’s … It’s … It’s …”
“It’s what?” I fold my arms, preparing myself for whatever insult he’s going to sling at me.
“It’s … really nice.”
You could knock me over with a feather. “Really?” I demand, not believing my ears. “You actually like it?”
“I do.” His smile is so radiant, it totally transforms his face. Look at that face. He is ridiculously handsome, like he-should-be-on-the-cover-of-GQ handsome. “It has nothing to do with my date of birth, but you definitely managed to capture my interests and create an enjoyable room, so well done.”
“You may think your enjoyment of this space has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a Gemini, but I disagree. Everything about my décor choices is astrologically sound,” I tell him. “The modern furniture and pops of color are known to keep the Gemini’s mind open for enlightenment and creativity.”
“I think most people in my field would like this,” he says, not willing to throw me a bone.
“Did you see the quote on the wall?” I point to the area Charley worked on.
Ben’s eyes practically glaze over as he turns his attention to it. He’s quiet for so long, I start to get nervous that he hates it. But then he surprises me again, his voice quiet as he says, “That is my favorite Carl Sagan quote.”
I look at the wall and ask, “Really? I picked it because I thought it paid tribute to both of our sciences.”
“I can see how you might think so,” he says. Then he recites, “Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality. — Carl Sagan.”
I can’t seem to leave well enough alone, so I ask, “Are we actually not going to fight about this?”
He shakes his head. “You’ve done a remarkable job, thank you.”
“I’ve done a remarkable job for an airhead astrologer you mean?” I don’t know why I keep poking the bear, but I do.
“You’ve done a remarkable job for anyone. This is truly a work of art.”
Now I’m the one who’s slack-jawed. What’s happened to the Ben Williams I know and dislike?
Eighteen
Ben
I stare around again, hardly believing how much more at home I feel in my office already. I’ll add back my personal items, but now that I’ve seen it like this, I don’t ever want my crappy old desk back. My eyes land on the Star Trek figurines and I almost burst out laughing, but I can’t because it would mean admitting I do care about any of this.
There’s some commotion outside and I see Waltraut talking to my team and gesturing for them to come see my new office. A moment later, they all appear at the doorway, peeking in and making “oohs” and “aahs.”
“Come in,” Serafina says with a warm smile. She moves closer to me to make room for the team, and I’m surprised when I don’t shuffle away from her like I normally would in this type of situation. Instead, I stay put, feeling a warm pull toward her as she stands beside me. Taking a deep breath, I inhale her essence. I don’t know if that’s just her or if she sprayed something on, but that’s a scent I could get used to.
Wait. What? That’s not right. I hate her. Don’t I?
Carla looks around before announcing, “This is so much better than how you had it, Ben. You should add back your cosmic crystal ball though. It would go really well next to the lamp.”
No, no, no, no, no! Do not talk about my crystal ball! I freeze in place, not knowing how to answer that without looking like a fool. Is there a chance Serafina didn’t catch that? I don’t risk glancing at her in case she did.
Ewan gasps at the Star Trek figurines and says, “She took them out of the box?”
“Yup, that’s fine,” I tell him with a nervous chuckle.
“You said anyone who took your Star Trek collector’s edition figurines out of their boxes would be fired on the spot.”
“No, I didn’t,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re thinking of your last boss maybe?”
“No, it was you, remember?” Alec says. “You said if anyone touches them, they’d be clearing out their desk by the end of the day and you didn’t even care what they might be on the cusp of discovering.”
Serafina lets out a loud laugh. “You are so busted!”
“They’re mistaken. I would never have said anything like that because I don’t have children’s toys. This is a serious place where we do serious work.”
She has tears rolling down her cheeks now.
Come on. It’s not that funny.
“You do care!”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “I may have a few sentimental items, yes, but it’s not like I need them.”
“Really?” Carla asks, wrinkling up her nose. “Because when you got that astronaut cell phone stand, you were giddy about it for a month.”
“Astronaut cell phone stand?” Serafina asks, suddenly straightening up from her position of doubled over laughing.
“Oh, yeah,” Carla says. “He’s got a ton of nerd stuff. He emptied it all out this morning and shoved it all into a closet.”
Clearing my throat, I manage, “Okay, well, thanks everyone for coming in to see the … new décor, but you really need to get back to work, and so do I.”
Their shoulders slump as they walk away, looking like I just canceled Christmas.
I turn to Serafina, feeling like a total ass. “Thanks again for stopping in and doing all of this. I really appreciate your efforts.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, giving me far too wide of a grin for the situation. “Enjoy it.”
Just like she’s enjoying being right about me …
“Cut! Great work, everyone,” the director says. “Let’s get out of here and let the good doctor get back to playing with his space toys.”
Perfect. This is exactly how I hoped this day would turn out.
After my office empties out, I’m left with the last person I want to talk to right now. Turning to Serafina, I prepare myself for her to really let me have it about being a hypocrite, but instead she gives me a kind smile. “You know, Ben, I found my life got a whole lot easier when I decided to let people see who I really am.”
She couldn’t be more wrong about that. I stare at her for a second, memorizing the shape of her beautiful dark brown eyes, then nod. She’s handing me an olive branch; I might as well take it. “Possibly less embarrassing too.” Letting out a sigh, I add, “You must think I’m a total hypocrite.”
She shakes her head. “No, I just think you’re a very serious man doing very serious work, who badly needs people to take him seriously.”
“You’re right about that,” I tell her, wishing I was the kind of guy who could just ask a woman like her out on a date.
Waltraut pokes her head back in and says, “Hey, you two, that was wonderful. Really great.”
We both thank her, then she looks at me. “Oh, and terrific news! I was just talking with your boss, Dev, and he told me you’re going to Florida next week for a conference. Guess who’s going with you?”
Holy Captain Kirk. She better not mean who I think she means.
Nineteen
Serafina
As we walk to the elevator, Waltraut tells me all about how she wants me to accompany Ben to the Ke
nnedy Space Center next week. “While he has his meetings, we thought we’d film you in front of some of the famous rockets they have on display. Then, when he’s free, we’ll shoot some footage of the two of you together talking shop.”
“Wow, okay. I guess that would be fine. How many days will I be gone?” I’m thinking about all the time this side gig is taking away from my real job — my app.
“Three days should do it.” Then, like she’s reading my mind, she says, “Think of this time as an investment in your future.”
“Totally,” I tell her. “I’m just about to start trials for the dating portion of my app and I’d like to be around in case there are any problems.”
“Have you gone on that date you were talking about on-air?” she asks as we step into the elevator to head down to the lobby.
“It’s today,” I tell her excitedly. “His name is Howard.”
“How would you feel if we sent a camera along with you?”
A cold shudder washes over me. “Maybe next time. I want to make sure any kinks in the program are ironed out before showing our new feature off to the world.”
“Let me know when that is,” she tells me. “The network might even want to do a bigger segment on one of the nighttime magazine shows.”
Oh. My. God. YES! That would be so amazing, but instead of saying so, I merely utter, “You bet.”
I’m actually going straight from the Goddard Institute to a restaurant near the Columbia campus. Oddly, my date is with a Gemini who is a psychology professor there.
After putting Charley into a cab and sending her home, I hoof it the three blocks to Kale Cafe, a vegan restaurant that not surprisingly specializes in kale dishes. This was obviously Howard’s choice as I would have suggested we go somewhere that is more comfort-food oriented.
The inside of the café feels like what I think an ashram would look like. The walls are painted with gorgeously bright, intricate patterns. The ceiling is high, giving the space a very open and airy feel, and the seating is actually bean bag-type chairs situated around coffee tables. It’s super cool.
I spot a man that I assume is my date, based on the description he gave me online — a lanky intellectual with a ponytail and a goatee. While he’s not exactly my physical type, I’ve vowed to keep an open mind, just as I hope the people who use this portion of my app will.
Veering through the bean bags and tables, I stop in front of him and ask, “Howard?”
He looks up at me and tilts his head. “Sarah?” As the owner of the app, I decided that even though secretiveness is not the best way to start a relationship, I should hide my identity, so my dates feel comfortable telling me what they really think of Dating for Your Star Sign.
“Hi,” I tell him brightly. Then I plop down on the bean bag opposite him, trying to maintain my dignity while wearing a shorter skirt. “Do you come here often?” I giggle at asking such a cheesy question.
“Yes, I do.” He isn’t even smiling. “That’s why I suggested it.”
Oooookay. “So, how did you hear about the star sign app?” This guy is not giving off the warm fuzzies in any way, shape, or form.
“A friend of a friend suggested I give it a try. Being a man of science, I’m not really into the whole astrology thing.”
“Oh.” Disappointment shoots through me like a wicked case of food poisoning. “But you took the time to fill out the form, so you must not be totally closed down to the idea.”
“Yeah, about that.” He picks up a lavash cracker from the basket sitting on the table and breaks it in half. “My friend filled it out. I thought the whole ‘date for your star sign’ thing sounded pretty hokey.”
Irritation quickly overtakes my previous optimism. “Are you even a Gemini?” I demand.
“Yeah, for whatever that’s worth.” He bites into the cracker and crunches it with his mouth open.
“Why exactly did you agree to sign up for this service if you’re not into astrology?” I’m suddenly not even hungry and I never turn down the opportunity to eat.
“My friend said that chicks who believe in wacky stuff like the zodiac tend to be pretty easy to get into bed.” He doesn’t even seem to realize how offensive he’s being. Or maybe he does and doesn’t care.
“I assure you that it will take more than a bowl of barley and a kale salad to get me into the sack,” I practically hiss.
“Really? I thought that was the whole point of this app.” Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
“It’s a dating app. I’m pretty sure the whole point is finding someone to date.” This guy is a total loser, but I’m here on a mission to gain data for my app so I’m not going to storm out like I would normally do.
“Aren’t dating and sex the same thing?” He waves over the waiter before I can answer. When the server approaches, Howard says, “I’ll have the alfalfa and eggplant falafel, heavy on the cashew butter.”
The waiter writes down the order and asks me, “What would you like?”
I’m tempted to say world peace, or equality for all. Barring that, I wouldn’t mind a cheeseburger, but none of those things are likely to happen here. “What kind of soup do you have?”
“We’ve got a chickpea curry or a Thai ginger broth with tofu and kale.”
Yeah, no. “What kind of dessert do you have?”
“Our special today is coconut ice-cream served with a flourless dark chocolate cake.”
“I’ll have that,” I tell him while handing over my menu.
For some reason, Howard feels the need to say, “That probably contains all of the calories you need for an entire day and enough fat grams for a week.”
“Could be.” Gah, I don’t even want to talk to this guy. He clearly isn’t the consumer I’m interested in.
“So, why are you doing this star sign thing, if not for sex?” he wants to know.
I start to fantasize about grabbing all the crackers out of the basket and crumbling them over Howard’s head. “I’m interested in meeting a man that I like well enough to date.” Duh.
“You gonna sleep with him?”
“Nope. I’m celibate,” I straight out lie. I positively loathe this man and I’ve barely spent two minutes talking to him.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.”
“That’s false advertising. Why didn’t you put that on your profile?”
“Probably for the same reason you didn’t write down skeezy sex addict.” Put that in your pipe, Howard.
At this point, Howard decides to act like I’m not even there and he pulls out his phone and starts typing away. So I do the same. I text Charley.
LibraGrl: Abort! Something is wrong with our app. I’m on a date with the biggest loser in the free world.
* * *
BrainyBrain: Howard is a dud?
* * *
LibraGrl: Let’s just say I’d rather date Homer Simpson.
* * *
BrainyBrain: Oh, no.
* * *
LibraGrl: He just told me that he’s only using our app because he thinks women who are into astrology are easy.
* * *
BrainyBrain: Gross. Maybe you should just leave.
* * *
LibraGrl: I’m debating that right now. I just ordered dessert though and I’d hate to leave before eating it.
Howard decides to speak. “Just to be clear, we’re not going to be having sex today, right?”
“Surely not with each other,” I tell him.
He nods his head thoughtfully. “Gotcha. Would you mind leaving then? I mean, not to be rude, but a cute girl from one of my classes just walked in. I thought I’d ask her to join me.”
Disgust does not begin to describe the degree of revulsion I feel for this man. Instead of answering him, I stand up, catch sight of the girl he’s signaling, and I hurry to her side. When I reach her, I say, “Howard is having a herpes outbreak, so you definitely shouldn’t sleep with him today.”
Then I walk out of Kale with a sense
of dread that the success of my dating app might be in serious jeopardy if fools like Howard sign up for it.
Twenty
Ben
I stare at the profile I created on Serafina’s ridiculous star sign app and take a deep breath. I’ve put in my real birthdate and information, but changed my last name. Mr. Spock hops up onto the couch next to me and lies down with his side pressed against my leg. “Hey, Spock. I’m about to debunk Dating for Your Star Sign. What do you think about that?”
He rubs his head on my pant leg, which I take as his way of telling me to go for it.
“Once I go on a couple of these ridiculous zodiac setups, I’m going to tell everyone on Wake Up America! that this star sign crap is a total hoax.” I give him a scratch behind his ears. “While Serafina seems to be nice enough, she’s duping people into paying her to ‘live their star life’ instead of figuring things out for themselves — which is the best part of living, if you ask me.”
Spock closes his eyes and starts purring. “I see you agree with me.”
I look back at my phone. My mom wants to sign up on this damn app which means she’ll be one of the people who gets fooled into giving Serafina her money in exchange for nothing. Well, worse than nothing really, because she could be put in harm’s way again if she picks another loser like Phil. He was the guy who took her car and all the money he could find.
I sigh, then hit the create profile button and sit back while the app pretends it’s tabulating my answers.
A text comes in from Alec:
Dude, I got my first date on the app. Her name is Candy and we’re going bowling on Saturday.
* * *
Text Wars: May the Text be With You ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 3) Page 10