A State of Jane (31 page)

“That's just it. I don't want to play games at all.” Jim exhaled loudly. “Call me old-fashioned. Crap, the guys call me gay, but honest to God, I just want to meet the right girl and go from there.”

I turned my back to Jim, leaned my head on the vending machine and muttered, “I don't want to play games either. I just want to love someone and be loved.” I raised my head and turned back around to face Jim. He was smiling at me.
Smiling!
“What are you smiling about?”

Still grinning, he said, “It sort of looks like we want the same things, Jane.”

After I let his words sink in, I nodded and gave a half smile back. “I guess we do.”

“Do you think we can start over?”

Start over? I'd cried over him! He disappeared on me without so much as a Post-it note. He ruined my parents’ anniversary party for me. And he put a damper on Claire's pregnancy announcement. He hurt me and I honestly didn't know if I could handle being disappointed again. I shook my head. “I don't know, Jim. That was then and this is now. And I barely know you. All I even remember about you is that you hate when your team loses football. And it's not even football season.” Was it football season? I really had no clue.

“That's OK. I remember things about you.”

“Like what?” Besides that I lacked the requisite stripping skills to get a job at the Bada Bing.

Jim smiled softly. “I remember how thoughtful you were to pick a sports bar that had television screens at each booth so we wouldn't have to worry about getting a table near the wrong game. And how you agreed to a second date even after seeing my lack of sportsman-like behavior.” Jim paused and gazed into my eyes. “And I remember how much I liked kissing you.”

I remembered that too.

Jim took a step closer to me and reached for my hand. “So what do you say? Second chance?”

Who was I kidding? I still thought his laugh lines were sexy. “OK. Second chance. But the second time better be the charm because there will be no third.” I squeezed his hand.

“I'll take my chances.”

“And there will be no strip tease this go-around!”

Making a sad face, Jim said, “No strip tease?”

I shook my head and pursed my lips. “Nope.”

“Ever?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Well, I wouldn't say never. But not for a long, long time.” I looked at Jim's full lips as he bent his head towards mine. I felt the soft touch of his lips and mumbled, “Well, not until at least the fourth date this time.”

Jim pulled away from me and raised an eyebrow. “Final answer?”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, stood on my tippy toes and began to draw him in for another kiss. But as my lips met his, I quickly pulled away. “No.”

“No, what?” Jim took a step closer to me, closing the distance between us.

I stepped back but maintained eye contact. “No. It's not my final answer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can't make any promises about a fourth date until I know we'll actually have a first, second, and third date.”

Jim moved towards me again, running his fingers up and down my arm. “I promise this time will be different.”

I didn't move his hand away, but only because it felt nice. “We'll see. You give me a call, ask me for a proper date, and we'll take it from there. In the meantime, I have a nephew who, at this moment, might be taking his first breath. I gotta run.” I smiled sweetly at Jim, said, “See ya,” turned around and walked out of the cafeteria.

As I made my exit, back straight and head held high, I knew full well that Jim was watching me, his mouth probably wide open. I kept smiling, not because of some presumptuous daydream about our honeymoon, but because I knew that no matter what happened, even if Jim never called, I'd be OK.

EPILOGUE

About Six Months later

To:
[email protected]

Hey Ris,

Hope you're having a good day. I'm exhausted! I know I technically don't have a job and that babysitting Nathan doesn't exactly count, but preparing for this exam is killing me. We have to pair a six course meal with different wines. And I thought law school would be hard. Culinary school is kicking my arse! But if you can hold out until 10:30, you can eat my exam for a late dinner!

I'll see you at home.

Jane

PS – Guess what? Remember that guy William I met last year at the Hoboken St. Patrick's Day parade? “Beauty Mark Guy”? I ran into him at
Starbucks. He was meeting friends to practice for open mic night at Sidewalk Café. He said he'd been wondering how ‘Mary Poppins’ was doing but thought if he called, I'd accuse him of booty calling! He asked me on a date. I'm not sure it makes sense to go backwards – look how well it went with Jim… And he's younger than me! And I'm not sure how much money he makes if he's in a band.

Whatev. I don't have to marry the guy.

(Keep reading for a Bonus Excerpt from 
Blogger Girl 
by Meredith Schorr)

I SLID MY MOUSE
 
back and forth between 4 and 4.5 pink
 champagne flutes. I couldn’t decide if the book, 
Gladly Never After
, was 4.5 flutes
worthy. The ending was a bit abrupt and the hero was kind of obvious from the beginning. At the same time, it was certainly an engaging story, so much so that I took every available opportunity to
 turn on my Kindle to see what happened next, even while squatting on the toilet between beers at happy hour.

“Long!”

I saved a draft of my review and stood up. “Yes, Rob?” I walked into his large fish-bowl shaped office knowing he wasn’t going to come to me. “What’s up?”

Rob handed me two sheets of paper. “Can you scan this to Bartlett?”

Removing the papers from his hand, I said, “No problem. Should I include a message?”

He scratched his thick head of brown hair. “Nah. He’ll know what it is.”

Rob’s recent takeover of a high-profile litigation was definitely getting in the way of my blogging. I had four books scheduled for review in the next two weeks and had received several more on my 
Kindle from publishers and authors in the past couple of days. Then again, it was my day job as a legal secretary at a mid-sized New York City law firm that paid my $1800 rent, not my voluntary – albeit
 
immensely more satisfying – side gig as a chick lit book reviewer/blogger.

“Also, send an email to the team about squad drinks around the corner at Banc Café at 5.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Who should I include in the email?”

Rob was now facing his computer and without bothering to turn around, he said, “The whole team, Lucy, David, Nicholas, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah.”

Rob probably didn’t actually say, “Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah” but 
that was all I heard after “Nicholas.” Ordinarily, I preferred the company of friends over the partners, associates and paralegals that
 made up Rob’s team, but I’d make an exception if Nicholas was going to be there. I took stock of my outfit, exhaling a sigh of relief that I was wearing a flattering low cut black top and form-fitting black skinny pants. I fingered my necklace, a platinum chain with an opal pendant that conveniently fell right in the line of my cleavage. “Sounds good. Uh, I forgot who else you mentioned after Nicholas.” 
Not that it matters.

Rob waved me away. “Just the team. The usuals. Add a sentence at the end about inviting anyone I forgot.”

“Gotcha.”

When I got back to my desk, I emailed the team about happy hour, casually adding Nicholas’ address somewhere in the middle. It was very short notice, but a) it was free drinks and b) Rob was the boss and by virtue of him being the boss, sufficient advance notice was not required. Once I confirmed that the email went through, I practically ran to the copy room to scan Rob’s documents and quickly emailed them to Bartlett. I glanced at my Movado watch, a gift from my parents for my 28th birthday earlier that year. It was 4:42. After I grabbed my enormous leather pocketbook from the bottom drawer of my desk and told Rob I was stepping away, I headed to the bathroom and called Bridget.

She picked up after one ring. “Is everything okay?”

I ran a brush through my long light brown hair and shook my head from side to side to give it some bounce. “Why would you ask that? Because I called instead of texted?”

“Bingo!”

Bridget had been my best friend since the 7
th
 
grade. Text messaging often won out over actually talking on the phone, but it
 wasn’t like
telephone conversations were reserved for emergency trips to the hospital or anything. I removed the pink monogrammed makeup case I’d had since junior high school from the bottom of my
 pocketbook. “Having drinks with the team tonight after work.”

“The team, huh? Does that include your work crush? What’s his name again?”

“Nicholas!”

Bridget snorted. “I know! Nicholas
 
Strong
,” she repeated.
 “Rhymes with Long. I remember.”

“Ha ha. Be nice.” Mentioning the rhyming of my last name with Nicholas’ wasn’t one of my proudest moments, but it was after two flirtinis, and two flirtinis for a 101 pound girl were like five flirtinis for an average sized woman.

“Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Bridget said dryly. Gun shy after an uncharacteristic one-night-stand generously left her with a case of crabs, she hadn’t done anything with anyone in over a year.

“I’m not entirely certain he sees me as anything more than that ‘chick’ who occasionally connects him to Rob’s voicemail, but he’s serious eye candy. Chances are, we’ll exchange less than four words, I’ll end up extremely frustrated and regret going in the first place.”

“There you go, Ms. Positive! Good luck.”

“Thanks. See ya.” I hung up the phone and wiped the corners of 
my lips before applying a shiny but translucent gloss. I dusted a little powder over my nose trying unsuccessfully to hide the constellation of freckles that appeared at the tip. I zipped the case and returned it to my bag. I wished I knew how to apply dramatic makeup but every time I made an attempt, I looked like one of those freaky
 pageant kids.

When I returned to my desk, I noticed that Rob’s light was off. It was only 5:05. 
Someone needed a beer
.

I opened my saved post to finish my review.

In closing, I would highly recommend Gladly Never After to all lovers of chick lit, particularly those who prefer books with more action/dialogue and less description/
 
backstory.

Rating: 4.5 Champagne Flutes

I set my blog to post the review at 6 the next morning and logged off of my computer. At least I’d be fashionably late.

***

I spotted my crew immediately upon entering the dimly lit restaurant. They had taken over the left side of the semi-circular bar. I stood up as tall as my 4’’11’ frame allowed and approached the crowd. Although my eyes looked straight ahead towards Rob, always the center of attention at these events, I used my peripheral vision to confirm that Nicholas was in attendance. He was talking to Lucy, a junior associate in the group. Lucy was actually really nice, but her straight blonde hair was always pulled back into a tight bun and her daily attire consisted of stodgy business suits. She looked like a librarian and I couldn’t imagine Nicholas being interested in 
her as more than a colleague.
 
On second thought, maybe Lucy is one of those stereotypical librarian types who’s kinky in the sack.
 
I had often wondered if Nicholas had hooked up with any of the female associates in the office while pulling an all-nighter or after one of the many firm-hosted parties. As I glanced back at Lucy in jealous
 paranoia, I was surprised to catch Nicholas looking directly at me. Could he tell I was thinking about him? Bridget and I always said guys had radar.

“There she is. My right hand. What are you having?” Rob asked.

I tore my eyes away from Nicholas and focused my attention on Rob. “A glass of prosecco. Thanks.” I considered asking for a cocktail menu but wanted a drink in my hand too badly to spend the time considering my choices.

Rob raised one of his thick dark eyebrows and took a sip of his lager. “Beer isn’t good enough for you?”

“Not when the firm is paying.” I giggled.

Rob handed me my glass and I casually looked around. I caught Nicholas’ eye again and prepared this time, gave him a friendly
 wave.

“Hey you,” he said, smiling wide as his brown eyes darted
 down to my chest and quickly back to my face.

His appraisal of my rack, while subtle, was unmistakable. Not that a guy checking out a girl’s chest was an indication of actual interest. It was probably merely instinct for them, but I was still
 thrilled. I would be the first to admit that I drew attention to my chest since, being so 
short, I needed to give people a reason to look down far enough to see me. I raised my glass and smiled back. “Hey,” I said before turning back towards Rob. I wanted more than anything to go over
 and cock block his conversation with Lucy but I didn’t have the nerve. Checking out a girl’s cleavage was not necessarily an invitation for conversation.