by Ali Parker
“I don’t want to get fired.”
“You wouldn’t. They’d just write you up.”
I frowned. “I don’t want that either.”
“Sometimes it’s worth it.”
I sent Sharon’s call into the manager. Within ten seconds, my red light was blinking again as the next caller in line was pushed to me. My finger hovered over the button while Azira opened her lunch bag and began setting her food on her desk.
“It’s not worth it if you’re trying to get a promotion,” I said more to myself than to Azira. I didn’t want to get stuck on the bottom floor in the call center. I wanted to climb the ranks. I wanted to go corporate. I wanted to have enough power to make decisions to make the everyday lives of the call-center employees a little less depressing.
Being yelled at all day took a toll on a person. Sometimes, the calls could be really rough. Really cruel. I’d seen women stand up from their desks in tears mid-shift and storm out, never to be seen again. I’d seen men knock their computers right off their desks in bursts of rage. I’d seen Azira herself tear her own headset out of the USB of her computer, pulling the whole tower off the desk and onto the cheap carpet floor, where it smashed to pieces.
“Just be careful, Hailey,” Azira said. “This job will eat you up and spit you out if you care about it too much. Just saying.”
Chapter 4
Jackson
On Monday morning, a moving truck pulled up in front of my building at eight. Two movers got out to meet me. One slapped an invoice into my hand while the other asked me to take them up to my place so they could start moving items down into the truck. They had to get on the road before noon to start their drive across the country with my belongings.
I couldn’t imagine doing such isolating work. Sure, they had each other. But the thought of being stuck in a truck with one other guy for a week?
Fuck no.
I ended up jumping in to help the movers to keep the pace up. They were big strong dudes and told me I shouldn’t and that if I got hurt I wouldn’t be able to sue them.
I assured them I would do no such thing. Partly because I wasn’t a dick and partly because I was too tough and equally fit to hurt myself moving boxes.
They didn’t think it was all that funny.
We finished up around eleven o’clock, and after they left, I stood in the middle of my barren living room wondering if this was a crazy mistake. Was I really cut out for New York City? Sometimes I thought Nashville was too busy.
And there was no Hailey in New York.
I sighed and ran a hand down my face. My jaw was itchy with stubble and I was thankful that I’d packed my toiletries bag for the flight and the first few days living in New York. I wouldn’t have furniture for about a week as I waited for the delivery drivers to meet me on the other end, so I’d taken advantage of the week in limbo and booked a flight to go visit my twin sister Katie on the Virgin Islands, where she worked as a honeymoon coordinator at a pretty swanky hotel. She’d set me up with a bomb-ass suite, and even though a honeymoon resort wasn’t the place to meet women, I knew I’d have a good time lounging in the sun during the day and then having dinners with my sister.
I’d be living out of a suitcase for a few days after I flew into New York while I waited for my moving truck to arrive, which wasn’t a big deal, but it definitely wouldn’t feel like home right away.
I spent the next two hours getting ready for an appointment with a new client. I shaved, changed into a plain white shirt and dark jeans, shrugged into my leather jacket, and slid on a pair of sunglasses. I struck out of my empty apartment and pulled my car out of the underground to head to our meetup spot, a swanky booze cafe on the other side of the city.
It took me half an hour to get there but I didn’t mind.
My car drew a lot of eyes. Pretty eyes.
When I stepped into the dimly lit café, I was hit with the smell of coffee, wine, and beer. I breathed it in, took my sunglasses off, and let my eyes adjust to the dim. Once they had, I looked around and cracked my knuckles.
“Nice place,” I muttered.
There was a bar right smack in the middle of black-and-white-checkered tile floors. It was dark green and trimmed in gold, and there were plenty of attractive young women sitting around it, sipping coffees spiked with Bailey’s or sangria boasting slices of oranges and strawberries on the rim. I caught a couple of eyes as I wove through the low tables where people sat on Persian-patterned ottomans or velvet cushions.
In the far corner near a massive indoor plant with wide leaves and dark stems was a group of men smoking hookah. When I passed them by, I caught the distinct note of vanilla and cinnamon. I tipped my head at them and found a spot at a high table against the north wall.
A man in his late twenties stood there with his back to me. I knew he was my client immediately.
He wore stark white sneakers with black laces, blue jeans, and a navy sports jacket. He looked suave from the back with a full head of auburn hair. When I walked around the table, I found him stroking a thick beard and looking down at his phone.
“Ambrose Heath?” I asked.
The man looked up and grinned like he was seeing an old friend. “Jackson, right?”
I held out my hand and he shook it. “Yeah. Nice to meet you in person finally. Sorry about the delay. There was a bit more traffic than I expected.”
“No problem. I just got here. What do you think about this place? Different, isn’t it?”
I looked around like I was seeing all the dark moody walls and mismatching light fixtures for the first time. “I like it. It’s definitely got a vibe.”
And sexy patrons, I thought as my gaze raked over the women sitting at the bar.
I took my seat across from him. A server appeared at our table and took our drink orders after rattling off the specials, which were all in-house specialty cocktails I’d never heard of. If Hailey were here, she’d have ordered one of those. But I was a man of consistency and I knew what I liked, so I ordered an IPA.
Once our beers arrived, I started the consultation. “So I know why we’re here,” I said. We were here so I could ask him some questions and find out what kind of woman he wanted in his life so I could match him up with a female client. “Usually, I like to start these things off with a couple of questions about what you’re looking for. Then we’ll talk about past relationships and I’ll learn the things you liked and didn’t like about them to try to find someone who is compatible for you.”
“And how would previous relationships help with that?”
I always thought this one was self-explanatory, but almost every guy I worked with asked this question. The women, however, never did. “Well, it’s pretty simple. Clearly, something about those relationships didn’t work. Usually, I can figure out what that was, whether it was a breakdown of communication, respect, or love. It will help me avoid pairing you with someone who might have the same problem-solving behaviors or lack thereof. I don’t want to set people up who might get along swimmingly on paper, but then when it comes down to it and conflict arises, which it always will in a relationship, they have polar opposite fighting styles, and reaching a compromise is impossible. That would be a waste of both our time.”
Ambrose put his phone down face first on the table and clasped his hands together. I had his attention. “Sounds legit.”
I laughed. “Read my reviews, brother. Legit is my middle name.”
“I did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here sitting with you. I’ve done the dating apps and websites. I can’t tell you how much money I’ve blown trying to find the one. On that note, you ain’t cheap, brother.”
I grinned. He was going to be a hard one to win over. But I liked a challenge.
“No, I’m not,” I admitted. “But what I do works. Dating apps had their glory day. And they still serve a necessary purpose. And for some people, the lucky ones, they really do find love on there. But for the ones who are looking for something really deep and me
aningful? You need to step away from the phone and get down to the nitty-gritty in-person bullshit that makes love worth having. Even if it causes hair-pulling, teeth-biting bouts of insanity along the way.”
“I didn’t read that in your terms and conditions.”
I laughed again. Sometimes, I had to fake it to win over a client, but Ambrose was saying all the right things to hit my funny bone. “No. You didn’t. But I can already tell you’re going to be easy to match, Ambrose. You’re laidback. Easygoing. Humorous. So long as you’re not a dickwad, I suspect I’m going to be able to find you the right woman.”
Ambrose smiled and stroked his beard. He was a good-looking guy, too. A little hipster. A little rugged. But a lot of women liked that look. He had a bit of southern charm buried under his modern clothes, and based on the cut of his jacket and the width of his shoulders, he looked fairly fit.
“So tell me,” I said, pausing to take a sip of my beer that was mostly foam. “What is your least favorite thing in a partner?”
“Dishonesty.”
His answer was quick and honest. “You’ve been done dirty before.”
“Multiple times. I have a bad habit of falling for beautiful women who don’t love me the way I love them. I’ve been cheated on in my last three relationships. Which led me not to seriously date for three years. But I’m getting up there in age and my career is where I want it to be. I always saw myself starting a family around now.”
“How many kids?”
“Two,” he said, picking at the edge of the damp napkin under his beer. “I already have the house and everything. Decent backyard. Big enough for a playset and a pool in the summertime.”
“You sound like a dreamer.”
“It’s bitten me in the ass more than once.”
“Probably because you’re with women who don’t appreciate that part of you. You need someone who is going to see your dreams and want to work with you to realize them. Someone similarly minded when it comes to family. I have a questions sheet I’m going to email you later. If you could have it back to me by the end of the week, we can get the ball rolling. But first, tell me about your favorite thing in your past relationship. The relationship that meant the most to you.”
Ambrose took his time considering my question. That was a good sign. It was yet another cue that he was serious about this. I didn’t run into people wasting my time very often. My consultations were not cheap.
Finally, he answered. “She used to leave me notes around the house. She was a nurse, so our shifts never lined up, which sucked, but I’d wake up to bright-colored sticky notes slapped onto mirrors or tucked into my work bag with sweet thoughts written on them.”
So he wanted a thoughtful woman who expressed her love verbally.
Easy.
“And how do you think you show your love and appreciation?” I asked.
Again, he took his time answering. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Well, please do. Do you buy gifts or tokens when you’re thinking about her? Do you make grand gestures of love and plan elaborate or simple dates based on the girl’s taste? Do you tell her how you feel? Do you use physical touch? Or acts of service?”
Ambrose chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “You are the real deal.”
I splayed my hands open in a move of confidence before draping my arm over the back of the barstool next to me. “Does this mean you want to go ahead with this thing?”
Ambrose nodded. “I want a wife. I wanted her three years ago. But I can’t trust my own judgement. I need help. And you’re it, Jackson.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me. The good news? I think I might have a girl who’s right up your alley. But I may have to pull a few strings.” It was easy to picture Hailey with a guy like Ambrose. He seemed smart. Educated. Practical. He owned what sounded like a family home and he was ready to fill it with children. Hailey had always wanted kids, too. I wasn’t sure if she’d want them as soon as Ambrose, but crazier things had happened.
“I trust you, man,” Ambrose said.
Had he asked me if Hailey was attractive, I would’ve put a pin in it and paired him up with someone else. I wasn’t going to set my best friend in the whole world up with a guy who cared first and foremost about a girl’s smile or her body. He had to care about what was inside. Hailey had a heart of gold and a soul made for loving. She deserved the whole world and the sun the moon and the stars.
Maybe Ambrose could be the guy to give it to her.
Chapter 5
Hailey
My sister Hannah stood in the doorway to my bedroom while I wrapped a strand of hair around my curling iron and waited for it to heat up.
I peered at her from beneath a mane of pinned-up curls. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged and stepped into the room. She went to my bed and perched herself on the end of it. “I just have never seen you get so dressed up to meet up with Jackson. Usually, you just slap on some lip gloss and call it a day. But tonight? The curls? The makeup? The—”
“I get it.”
She gave me a wry smile. “Why all the extra effort?”
“It’s his last night in Nashville. He told me it was going to be special. He’s taken me on friend dates on more than one occasion and I don’t want to risk showing up in my trusty old jeans and sneakers and find out he’s taking me to Andre’s or Capello’s or something fancy.”
My sister made an unconvinced sound in the back of her throat.
I let the curl tumble off the iron and caught it in my palm. I cursed under my breath at the heat as I pushed it up against my skull in a coil and slid a bobby pin through it to secure it in place while it cooled. I had thick hair, and if I didn’t pin it, the weight of it would just pull the curls down.
“I know you’re skeptical,” I said, “but Jackson and I are just friends. He’s moving away tomorrow. We just want to make tonight special. We see each other every single day. It’s going to be really weird not being able to stop by his apartment any time I’m downtown or have drinks with him on a patio somewhere. I’m really going to miss him, Hannah. So please. Don’t make this one of your ‘why don’t you just kiss him’ speeches.”
“I have that speech?”
“Yes. I’ve heard it a thousand times.”
Hannah leaned back on her hands and rolled her eyes toward my bedroom window. “Well if you’d listened the first three times, you wouldn’t have had to hear it nine hundred and ninety-seven more times, would you?”
“I heard that.”
“I wasn’t trying to be quiet.”
The last curl fell from around the iron. I secured it with a pin and shook out my aching arms before dousing my head in hairspray.
Hannah choked on the fumes and fanned the air in front of her, trying to chase the hairspray out of the air. “Holy hell, Hailey! Jackson isn’t going to take you anywhere if you smell like a nuclear plant!”
I glowered at her in the reflection of the mirror on my vanity. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m not. You shot that shit right at me.”
“I need strong hairspray, okay? Otherwise, it won’t hold and all this effort will have been for nothing.”
Hannah stood up and went to the window. She slid it open and stayed near the fresh air. “Are you going to spend the night at his place?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should.”
I twisted around in my chair. “Why are you trying to make this goodbye harder on me?”
“It didn’t have to be a goodbye. He asked you to follow him to New York! Why the hell would a guy ask a girl to come with him unless he secretly had feelings for her?”
“Oh my God, not this again.” I got up with an irritated sigh and went to my closet, where I pulled out my favorite blush-colored tank top with olive green and light gray flowers on it. Next I stepped into my favorite jeans, a dark gray wash, and paired them with a pair of nude flats and a long gray cardigan. “Jackson
doesn’t have feelings for me. He wants me to go with him for the same reason I want him to stay.”
“Because you love each other.”
“As friends.”
Hannah left the window with her arms crossed over her chest. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? Look. I know I’m being a pain in the ass. I just can’t help but worry that you’re letting the best thing that ever walked into your life go, all because you’re too afraid to admit that you care about him more than friends care about each other. I love you, Hailey. And when I see something so good for you that makes you so happy, it drives me fucking crazy that you won’t just grab it and hold on to it!”
“I’m not going to hold him down. His career is taking off. He’s right where he wants to be. And so am I.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You work fifty hours a week at a telecommunications call center getting ripped apart by lonely housewives and angry middle-aged men. You want to try to convince me again that you’re where you want to be?”
I began pulling all the pins out of my hair. My curls tumbled loose and wild past my shoulders and I raked my fingers through them. “You’re pissing me off, Hannah.”
“The truth pisses everyone off.”
I marched back to my vanity, arranged my curls so they were swept heavier to one side, and added a bit more hairspray to break up the curls and rough them up. I loved big hair for special occasions. It made me feel a little edgier. A bit sexy, too. And that was a feeling I didn’t have very often.
Once my hair was done, I turned around and held the hairspray nozzle down for five seconds, pointing it in Hannah’s direction. She squealed and raced out of my room.
“That’s what you get for acting like Mom!” I hollered after her.
I stood outside the grand front doors of Jackson’s apartment building and jabbed the buzzer button on the intercom system. I waited for a fuzzy beep to fill the speakers, and it was shortly followed by Jackson’s voice. “Who goes there?”