Emma vs. The Tech Guy (3 page)

“We need to be there by seven at the latest,” I said in the phone as I held up a finger to Guy. “Oh, sorry, I forgot. We’ll just grab some wine on the way there. OK, love you, too.” I hung up the phone, trying to control my impatience with Guy’s sudden reappearance.

“That must be great,” Guy said, leaning against my doorway like a GQ model.

“What’s that?”

“That was your husband, Howie, right?”

What the hell
? Now he was into my personal life. And what was with calling him Howie already? I didn’t like the nickname, though pretty much everyone but me called him that. But hadn’t Guy only been hired five seconds ago?

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“I was talking to Nannette while you were changing, and she got the call from him.”

“Oh.” I gave a big “ah-ha” nod and waited.

“I just think it must be nice to have someone that you can always count on.”

Yeah, yeah, real nice
. He was actually right, though I didn’t particularly want to get into it at that moment. But it did mean everything that Howard was there for me. I could always count on him to take care of me. But it was mutual. You wouldn’t know it sometimes, but I’m a very supportive person and I try to pull my weight in my relationship with Howard.

“It is very nice. Was there something else you needed?” I asked, trying to get the conversation steered in the right direction.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to give you my card,” he said, leaning forward and handing it to me. “All my info is there. Feel free to call me anytime. If I’m not available, you can get help from my partner, Matthew. He’s great.”

I took the card and laid it on my desk without looking at it. “Great, thanks.”

“All right. I guess I’ll catch up with you later, then.” Guy smiled awkwardly. Then he slowly backed out of my office like he was giving me one more shot at a conversation.

I didn’t flinch.

“And thanks for the tour.”

Chapter 3

“No funny business tonight,” I told Howard as we stood outside Bill’s place. He was dressed in blue jeans and a black, long-sleeve shirt. When I wore heels we were about the same height; tonight he was taller. Dinner here was a fairly casual and regular occurrence, so I wore my brown capris and a white, button-down shirt.

We had arrived right on time for our semi-regular monthly dinner with Bill and his wife, Eleanor. I say semi-regular, because I do allow myself an out once in a while. Last time I told Eleanor that Howard had the stomach flu. I felt a little guilty about that one, although Howard did have some bad gas that night. The Berkleys are sort of like our makeshift parents. Their son was grown and lived out of state. I lost both of my parents at a young age. My mother died of cancer when I was eight years old, my dad when I was in college. Howard doesn’t get along with his parents, so it kind of works out well for all four of us.

“What? I’m always good here,” Howard replied with a guilty smile followed by a wink.

Good is a relative term. It seemed like every dinner at Bill’s ended with Howard getting Eleanor smashed. Howard worked his way through college by bartending. His forte was inventing his own drinks; he was damn skilled at it. Still is, really, and his dream is to open his own pub one day. Somehow he would work one of his creations into the conversation, at which point Eleanor would “love to have the recipe.” Then Howard would offer to make them right then, and of course Eleanor had all the ingredients. By the end of the night those two were in the kitchen drinking and laughing while Bill and I sat on the couch talking shop or watching the golf channel.

I rang the doorbell, attempting not to laugh. I didn’t want to encourage him. “I mean it, Howard, not this time.”

He slapped my butt as I heard the door unlock. I did a tiny jump. Eleanor opened the door and gave us a giant smile with open arms ready to gather us in. She hugged us both at the same time, following her usual routine.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you two,” she wailed. Her hair was bleached blonde set in a loose bun. She had on one of her standard desert-colored pantsuits with a triple string of pearls around her neck. I saw Bill over her shoulder sitting in a chair. He didn’t bother to get up and just waved us over. As we walked in, the smell of garlic caught my attention, and I remembered another reason we continued that tradition; Eleanor was an incredible cook.

“Have a seat.” Bill motioned us over without even looking up from the television. He had to be watching golf. Bill was obsessed with it. He loved playing it, watching it, and talking about it. He even got me golf lessons for my birthday last year.

“Bill!” Eleanor snapped. “Don’t be so rude. Offer our guests something to drink.”

It’s funny because it seemed like the only time Eleanor wasn’t smiling was when she was scolding Bill. It was what they did, like a comedy routine they played over and over. She’d lecture him, he’d ignore her or roll his eyes. But the real Bill and Eleanor were nothing like their performance. I’d often catch them holding hands for no reason at all, or Bill would wink at her across the table. Those are the type of people that should have children and grandchildren around them.

“Get in there, get in there, get in there! Dammit!” he screeched at the golfer attempting a long putt. And there was the other side to my boss. You didn’t see it often, but when his fuse was lit, watch out. At one of our first dinners together, Eleanor pulled me aside. She thanked me and told me I was the reason Bill had mellowed a bit. That because I lightened his responsibility load, Bill had fewer blow-ups.

With his eyes still glued to the television, he responded to Eleanor’s request with, “Help yourself, you two.” Howard and I just ogled each other and shrugged. Eleanor threw her hands in the air and walked toward the kitchen. “Gotta check the chicken.”

Yeah, I guess that’s what it would be like to have parents. I decided to see if she needed any help, so I followed her back while Howard sat down next to Bill. Considering Howard’s profession—he was a rep for a sports uniform company—he wasn’t much of a sports fan, but he was easy-going enough to be flexible for Bill, and for me.

“It smells delicious, Eleanor,” I said, leaning against the kitchen island. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Eleanor used to be a wardrobe assistant, but gave it up when her son got to high school. She said it was the most important time for a mother to be home. That sounded about right to me. She’d made a ton of contacts in the movie and TV industry and became friends with quite a few stars. Thanks to her, we already had two big name actresses slotted for our new monthly guest article.

“No, dear, I’ve got everything under control.” She stirred a pot of some kind of vegetable mixture on the stove. Then she put a pan filled with rolls in an upper oven. Her kitchen reminded me of ours, everything in its place. That’s how Howard preferred it and since he did most of the cooking, I complied.

I watched her happily working and wondered if that was what my mother would have been like. I have very few memories of her, but I do remember that she liked to cook and bake. Or maybe I remembered the stories my Pop told about her. I tried to pretend that it didn’t make that much of a difference, that I had turned out just fine anyway.

But growing up without a mother is difficult. I often wondered if I would have been softer—a girl’s girl. Maybe I’d have had more friends if I’d had a mom. Maybe I’d have learned love and sacrifice. Maybe …. My father tried his best, but unfortunately his best was sorely lacking. I don’t blame him for not wanting to face reality. Who does? Pop was the only one who did. He picked up the slack for my dad. And believe me, there was a lot of slack.

The ringing of the doorbell yanked me from my thoughts. I asked Eleanor if she wanted me to get it.

“Yes, please, dear, thanks so much,” she answered, bending down to pull out the chicken. As I walked out and headed toward the door, she said something that made me flinch. Something that sounded like, “Oh, that must be Guy.”

Guy
?
What would he be doing here
? Maybe she was referring to someone else. As silent prayers dashed around in my head, I reached for the doorknob and turned it. It was like Monty Hall sent me to open the prize door I selected, and I opened it to discover I won a pile of cow dung. It was Guy.

I quickly summoned my fake smile. “Hey, Guy.” I stood there stunned, blocking the doorway. My eyes scanned his body for the package he must have been dropping off before making a quick exit. Unfortunately all I found was his ever-present smile lurking beneath his blue eyes.

“Hi, Emma. Good to see you again.” Guy waited about half a second for me to either invite him in or move to the side, which I didn’t. Then he squeezed by me. Whatever he had bathed in smelled like fresh pine. It trailed him and lingered under my nose before dissipating. He seemed to have no problem making himself right at home.

I stalled in the doorway a moment longer, preparing my game face and trying to shove back the fact that I was just a little pissed that Bill didn’t tell me Guy was going to be there. Maybe he was only dropping by for something and wouldn’t be staying for dinner.

Wishful thinking didn’t usually work out for me. I learned that a long time ago. That’s why I’m a woman of action, so I decided to head over to find out what the deal was.

“So, Guy,” I said right after Bill had introduced Howard and Guy. “What brings you here?”

Before he could answer, Bill popped up from his chair and said, “I invited Guy tonight. Didn’t I tell you that at the office?”

Another convenient memory lapse. Maybe Bill needed his annual check-up.

“I thought it would be a good chance for you to get to know each other,” he added while Guy shot a silly grin in my direction. I got the feeling he wanted to say something, but he just stood there bobbing his head like some goofy bobble head you’d see on a college student’s dashboard.

“Oh, great,” I lied.

Maybe I didn’t want to be at these dinners sometimes, but those were my fake parents, and I wanted to enjoy a quiet evening with them. Howard must have noticed my internal pouting and shot me a look that told me to get it together. Since there was nothing I could do about Guy’s presence, I decided to suck it up and not be a grouch. I went over and grabbed Howard off the couch. I tousled his sandy brown hair and gave him a big squeeze and a smooch on the cheek. Howard looked at me like I was insane. Eleanor made the call for dinner, so we all headed to the dining room.

As we got to the table and took our seats, Howard said, “So you’re the new tech guy, huh, Guy?” He laughed at himself and pointed to Guy. “That’s funny, your name’s Guy!”

I often failed to see Howard’s humor, but at least he was trying to break the ice.

“Yeah, that’s funny,” Guy returned coldly. “I haven’t heard that one before … oh, except for every time I start with a new company … or tell people what I do.” Guy’s expression was stoic. He sat in his chair at the table without looking at any of us. I didn’t take him for the sensitive type and realized that was the first time I’d seen him without that silly grin plastered on his face. But then he fixed his eyes on Howard and laughed out loud. He pointed a finger at him. “I’m just messing with you, Howie!”

There he goes with that Howie thing again. I guess we’re all going to be BFFs around here.
I reached for my wine, sipped it until all eyes were elsewhere, and then chugged the rest down.

The dinner conversation flopped around between the poor economy, our favorite reality shows, Guy’s water polo days, and Howard’s business. Besides their sense of humor, Guy and Howard had another thing in common. Howard repped for a sportswear company in the uniform division, Guy volunteered as a coach for his nephew’s water polo team. Somehow it always goes back to sports. Jayne would have loved this testosterone-filled conversation, hanging on every word. But it only pushed me away and caused me to burn a whole in the wall where I stared at a black metal sconce.

A break in the conversation gave Bill the opportunity to make a disturbing announcement. “There’s something I wanted to tell you about Guy.” He glanced at Guy for approval. He smiled and nodded while shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Guy is not just our new technical consultant.”

I stared and waited for what news would come next, while my heartbeat rose up in my chest. Bill seemed to be dropping quite a few bombs on me lately, so I braced myself before he lowered the hammer.

“He’s also my nephew.”

Nephew? What the—
? “Really?” I choked more than said.

Guy continued chewing, but still managed a smile to go along with his head nod.

“Well, that’s interesting,” was all I could think of.

Howard continued stuffing his face like this news would have no affect at all on my life. My fork stabbed repeatedly at whatever was left on my plate until I raised it to find a bite big enough for the Jolly Green Giant. The fork fell from my hand, clanking an echo in the small dining room. Eleanor flinched but recovered quickly with an empathetic smile.

Bill cleared his throat and grabbed his glass. “I’m sorry to have kept you in the dark until now, Emma, but it’s crucial that we keep this between us.”

Right-hand woman, my ass
. I knew what was coming next, so I didn’t say anything while Bill sipped his Crown and Coke. Then he said, “After that disaster with Lizette last year, I’m not taking any chances with launching the redesign.”

My mind began to spin out various scenarios this new situation could cause, none of which benefited me.

“So is Guy like undercover or something? I mean, is he even going to handle our tech side?” I hoped Bill saw this as concern for our system, not a defensive act to protect my own ass.

“Emma, I’m not going to be spying on anyone,” Guy chimed in. “And I
am
going to head up anything and everything that involves the technology side of the magazine. But Uncle Bill wanted someone he could trust, and someone that would be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. From what I heard, the situation with Lizette could have easily been avoided.”