Operation One Night Stand (14 page)

Other than that, lunch was pleasant and I was growing more and more excited about my role in the company.
I must’ve lucked out.
Apparently, it was the goal of most to work with Yolanda in some capacity.
And there I was, the new girl, and the opportunity fell right into my lap.
I knew I had a lot to learn and I had no doubt she’d show me the ropes, even if her demeanor flip-flopped between warm and severe.
But then again, work was work and I made a promise to myself not to let it overtake my life ever again.
I just hoped that thought process would fly with Yolanda Page.

Of course that remained to be seen.
What was really weighing on my mind was getting the girls here and taking them to see Ryan on a billboard in his underwear.
And that image beat any amount of flirting Michael Mortimer could toss my way.

I
met Sarah and Melody in front of my building at six.
I needed to show them what I had seen.
Words would never be able to do it justice and I needed them to have the same reaction I had.
I needed to know I wasn’t crazy.

“I have to show you something.”
There was no time for greetings.
I grabbed both girls by the arms and herded them up the street.
I walked quickly, keeping the conversation to a minimum.
I didn’t want to give it away.
I needed them to see it like I had seen it.

“It’s just up here.”

“Care, really.
You make us hike all the way into the city?
We didn’t have to go to Murphy’s, you know.
We were just busting your balls.”

“I don’t have balls.”
Fewer words more walking.
I was focused; I had a mission not unlike Operation One Night Stand.
This was Operation Whatthefuck.

“Don’t be so literal.
I’m just saying if you’re too scared to run into Ryan—”

“Or can’t handle being around Bartender Brian—”

“It’s just around this corner.”
It was all I could do not to break into a run.

We turned the corner and there he was.
Life-size, in his underwear, on a bus shelter, in the middle of the city.
The girls, behind me talking in hushed tones, didn’t notice that I had stopped.
They both ran into me.

“Care!
What the hell?”
Sarah questioned in her this-better-be-good voice as she knelt down to pick up her purse.

I said nothing.
Instead, I pointed.

I turned to them and watched the realization form in their eyes, surprise contort their faces, and their mouths gape open.
Operation Whatthefuck was a rousing success.

“Holy fuck!”
Melody squealed as she wobbled on her heels.

“No way!”
Sarah ran up to the poster, touching it as if she could somehow feel the hardness of his abs, the smooth lines of his skin, the girth of his dick.
“I could wash my panties on those abs!”

“Right?
So I’m not crazy?
That’s Ryan.”

“Goddamn Caroline!
You banged
this
guy?”

“It’s like when Satan decided to put the alphabet in math.
Terrifying and curious at the same time.”
Melody stepped toward the poster, her jaw dropped in wonder.

“Yeah.”

“He’s in his underwear,” Sarah mentioned quietly.

“I know.”

“On a bus shelter,” she continued.

“No kidding!”

“In the middle of the fucking city!”
Melody exclaimed.

My thoughts exactly.
Thank God we’re friends.

“When shit like this happens, Care, you
do not
keep calm and carry on.
You call in sick and celebrate by getting a tattoo.”

Melody joined Sarah at the poster, inspecting every pixilated inch.
Their eyes wide, they took a synchronized step back, cocking their heads to the side.
They took him in.
They took in their surroundings.
The gravity of this turn of events was not lost on them.

I fucked an underwear model.
I fucked him until my vagina was bruised enough to need an ice pack the next morning.
For a moment, I felt like a celebrity, even if it was only among my friends.

“Caroline, do you know what this means?”

“Yeah, that Ryan is a model.”

“No.
Well, yeah but no.
It means that not only is he an underwear model, but you Caroline,
you
, as opposed to every other woman that passes this advertisement, have seen what’s under the briefs.
The rest of us can only imagine, fantasize even, about whether or not that right there”—Mel placed her hand over his package—“is stuffed.”

I broke out in a fit of laughter.
The seriousness of her tone was priceless.
I could have sworn she was going to point out some cosmic fate–type piece of wisdom.
Instead, she waxed poetic about the importance of whether or not Ryan’s junk was Photoshopped.

“Cucumber big,” Sarah whispered the words.

“Wait!”
Melody spun around and grabbed my arms.
The proximity of her face to mine was a bit unnerving.
“You’re going out with him on Friday.”

Reality crashed down and I thought my heart would stop.
Backing up with my hands raised in front of me in defense, I shook my head.
“I can’t go out with him on Friday.
I can’t go out with him ever!”

“Why not?”
Sarah stopped ogling the poster long enough to ask.

“Well, because look!
He’s a fucking underwear model!
What the hell would he want with me?
That’s too much pressure.”
I bent down with my hands on my knees and forced myself to breathe.
I’d never had a panic attack before and I wondered briefly if I was about to experience one.

“Um, earth to Caroline.
Didn’t potato pants willingly go home with you the other night?
Didn’t he call you and ask you out again?”

“Yeah, but he probably didn’t mean it.
I mean, I ran into him at the gym, he probably felt bad and—”

“Stop it.
Stop it right now.
Knock that shit off.
I don’t get the problem.”
Melody truly sounded confused.
I wasn’t sure I would be able to explain my newly developed sense of reticence.

“Mel, don’t try to figure me out.
You’ll honestly just exhaust yourself.”
Hell, I was exhausted trying to figure me out myself.

“Fuckety fuck, Care.
Here we go.
You know there’s a thin line between silly and stupid.
Stop fucking border hopping.”
Sarah jabbed her finger at me before stepping away.

“Listen, sweets, I want you to repeat after me.
I am good enough.”

“Mel, you don’t get it.”
I didn’t get it.

“Repeat after me.
I am good enough.”
She stood in front of me and placed my face between her hands, staring at me in a way that made me uncomfortable.

I shook my head.

“Jesus Christ, Caroline!
You hit the fucking jackpot with this guy as far as physical specimens go.
I can’t speak to his intelligence, but fuck!
Look at him!
Who the hell cares!
Let him share your bed for a while.
What’s the harm?”
Melody threw her hands up in obvious frustration.

“I just don’t understand what a guy like him would see in someone like me.”

“Someone like?”
Melody’s eyes bugged out of her head and I thought they’d roll onto the sidewalk.
“Unfuckingbelievable.
Have you seen yourself?”

Sarah grabbed my shoulders and spun me around so I was looking at myself in the glass reflection of a small store window.

I wasn’t ugly.
I knew that.
I wasn’t particularly tall.
I wasn’t a size zero.
But I was in great shape.
My hair was shiny, my teeth were white.
My jeans hugged my ass; I never needed to wear a bra if I didn’t want to.
The sprinkle of freckles across my nose wasn’t annoying.
The freckles were fun.
I had my mother’s bone structure.
I had my father’s eyes.
I was pretty.

“I am good enough,” I whispered so only I could hear.

What the hell was I thinking?
Where did that moment of self-doubt come from?
Was it a residual scar from dating Steven all those years?
From working in a thankless, boring job?
From never having the balls to follow my heart?
Why would
Ryan
want
me
?
No, no, no.

“I am good enough,” I said with more force.

“What was that?”
Melody leaned in closer.

“I am good enough.”

It felt good to say the words.

“Thank God, Care.
I thought I was gonna have to get you some syrup to go along with that twat waffle attitude.”

“Twat waffle what?”

“Twat waffle attitude.
Basically when a woman acts like a douche.”

“Nice.”

“Care, you have to realize who you are, what you are, and all the good that goes along with it.”
Sarah grabbed my hand.
“We love you and it kills us when you don’t see what we see.
And, truth be told, you didn’t see anything but Steven for five years.
We sat by and watched as you disappeared.
We know it will take time, but we can see the old Caroline coming back.”

I smiled.
“You’re right.
I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well,” Melody began, “it’s not every day you see your most recent bang in his underwear, on a poster, on the side of a bus shelter, in the middle of the city.”

Both women were back to staring at Ryan, heads cocked to the side.

“No shit.”
I was still tingling from the discovery.
I pulled out my broken phone.

Looking forward to Friday.

I shoved my phone in my purse and stared at the backs of my friends’ tilted heads.
I swear it was like an epiphany proving, once again, that I needed those two women in my life.
They were brought to me by some random divine intervention.

“Come on.
I need a drink.”

“I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.
How the hell are you still a size four?”

Melody grinned wickedly.
“Lots and lots of sex.”

I laughed.
“I think I’m beginning to know a thing or two about that.”

T
he week sailed on.
By Friday, I’d learned more about the publishing industry and revising and editing manuscripts and contracts than I thought my brain could process.
It was wonderful.
Yolanda, though quite terse when she was engrossed in work, was a great mentor.
Of course, her remarks would have weakened my knees a few months prior but I was able to see she was molding me.
And I was determined to use the woman for everything she could teach me.
I was happy to stay on her good side.

Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to figure out how to do that.
I’d learned quickly that a big ego needed stroking and positive reinforcement and if that’s what it took to make Yolanda happy then that’s just what I’d do.

Michael, on the other hand, was a bit harder to read.
And I couldn’t quite figure out why he was hanging around the office.
One minute he was sullen and short, fitting the moody author stereotype and the next minute he was full of ego and self-confidence.
When he was the latter, he was sure to hit on me in what had become typical Michael Mortimer fashion—crude, crass, and direct.
There was no beating around the bush with him.
He’d taken an interest in me and he was sure to let me know when the mood suited him.

Michael was a good-looking guy, and had the brains to match the exterior package, but I still didn’t know what was going on with Ryan.
Not that I wanted a relationship.
God!
It was the last thing I needed.
But if I was going to sleep around, I needed it to be with one person at a time.

By late Friday afternoon, I was at my desk packing up my things for the weekend.
Streaming my favorite radio station kept my mood light, and considering I had quite a bit of reading to do between then and the following Monday, I was in a great mood.
I’d hoped for an easy few days off but Yolanda wasn’t having it.
It was a good thing I enjoyed the work.
And at least I had a date later that night.
Sarah and Melody had slammed the door on my self-doubt, effectively helping me to see excitement in new possibilities.

I kicked off my shoes and started dancing to an upbeat song.
Using my pencil, I began singing into it like a microphone.

A small knock at the door interrupted me.

“Come in.”

“I’m already in.”

“Michael.
I was just, uh…” I dropped my pencil on my desk and willed myself to remain calm.

“Getting ready to leave?”

“Yeah.
I have a lot of stuff to go over this weekend.
Just making sure I have everything.”

“Did you think any more about what we talked about on Monday?”

Monday.
Monday.
Monday.
I wracked my brain trying to remember if there was anything I missed.

Noticing my struggle with the topic, Michael laughed easily.
“I asked if you could accompany me to a dinner next Saturday evening.”

I felt like a deer in the headlights.
When the hell did he ask me that?

Walking around my desk, Michael leaned in and whispered, “I asked you when we were at the restaurant.
I’ll be out of town until then and I was hoping to get your answer before I left.”

My knees weakened and I remembered.
He’d asked when we ran into each other by the bathrooms.
And if I remembered correctly, I’d agreed to think about it.
Unfortunately I didn’t remember until that moment, so I hadn’t done much thinking.

“Um, well, where is it again?”

“At some restaurant downtown.
I’m supposed to do a reading or something.
You don’t have to go.
I mean, if you have plans.
But I spoke with Yolanda and Oscar and they both agreed it would be good for you to represent the company.”

“I don’t have plans.
I mean, if Yolanda and Mr.
Little think I should go—”

“Well, then.
Good.
It’s a date.”

“Not a date.”

“I’m sorry?”
A smile played mischievously across his lips.

“It’s not a date.
I mean, I can’t date you.”

“Do you want to date me?”
He was unbelievably close.
I swore he could hear my heart speed up.

“That’s not what I meant.
I meant, well, I’m pretty sure Yolanda wouldn’t like it.”

“And you care what Yolanda thinks?”

“Of course I do.
Plus, I’m not really a fan of office romances.
They don’t generally end well for me.”

I visibly shivered as he ran his hand down my arm.

“Calm down, Caroline.
It’s just dinner, and a work-related dinner at that.
I swear I’ll be on my best behavior.
I’ll text you the address.
Better yet, I’ll make sure a car picks you up.
And wear a dress.”

He pressed his thumb against my bottom lip, grazed his teeth along his, and hesitated a moment before walking out, closing the door behind him.

I fell into my chair.
I’d barricaded his advances all week and it suddenly hit me how exhausting it was.
The moment I dropped the barrier, he turned my knees to gelatin.
I’d have to figure out how to avoid that from happening again.
I didn’t need pent-up sexual frustration at the workplace.
I had enough of that every time I thought about Brian.
I mean Ryan.
Whatever.
You know what I mean.

The train ride home was uneventful.
I read some of the manuscript changes Michael had delivered to Yolanda earlier that day.
I couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing in Michael’s writing.
Something didn’t quite click.
It was fantastic writing and he deserved the accolades he’d received but I just couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong.
I shoved papers back into my bag.
Maybe I needed time away from it.
Plus, every time I read the damn thing a new word that was obviously spelled correctly but looked so damn wrong popped out at me and I spent what seemed like an eternity staring at it, questioning its very existence.

I hung my bag on my shoulder and got off at the next stop.
Wrapping my scarf tighter around my face, I walked the two blocks back to my apartment.
On the way, Ryan texted me.

Running late.
Murphy’s @ 9.
Rain check on dinner.
Sorry.

That sucked.
I was starving and I wasn’t especially interested in returning to Murphy’s.
Not that I didn’t want to see Brian, but just that if I was going to be there with Ryan, I didn’t want to be distracted by the butterflies that swarmed whenever I was around him.

Sliding my key into the lock, I was met with Sarah and Melody, who were parked at the kitchen counter, full glasses of red between them.

“Hey!
Pour me one.”
I placed my bag on the floor and threw my coat over the stained arm of the couch I called my friend.

“Don’t you need to get ready for your date?”
Sarah grabbed a glass from the top cabinet and poured me some wine.

“Rain check on dinner.
I’m supposed to meet him at Murphy’s at nine.”
I took a long swallow.
The alcohol warmed me to my toes.
“Thanks,” I said, raising my glass.
“I needed this.”

“So what are we doing for dinner?”
Melody asked, riffling through our stack of take-out menus.

“I thought you had a date with Nick the Dick?”

“I did but we’re playing it by ear.
He isn’t a dick, Care.
I just had a moment.
All women have crazy moments.”

“Crazy?
I think you were a step beyond crazy.”

Finishing off the bottle, Melody replied, “Don’t judge me.
I was born to be awesome.
Not perfect.
And besides, you should talk.
Weren’t you in a relationship with that couch for a few weeks?”

“Ha ha.
Shut up.
Sometimes even I question my sanity.
Occasionally it replies.
And smacks me across the face.”
I threw a balled-up napkin at her.

“Dude!
You almost spilled.
Don’t commit a party foul just because your date got put on hold.”

“So.”
I hopped up and opened the fridge.
“What are we going to do for dinner?
I’m starving.”

“Why don’t we just go to Murphy’s?
They have great sandwiches and their French onion soup is to die for.”

I turned and closed the fridge.
“I guess we can do that.
Why not?
I have to meet Ryan there later anyway.
Let me change my clothes.
Be ready in five.”

“Care, I want to borrow something to wear.
I came straight here from work.”

“Sure.
Come on.”

“Don’t worry!
I’ll just sit here and keep the wine company,” Sarah yelled through the apartment.

Melody ran back to the kitchen, grabbed her glass, and met me back in my room.

“So how was work?”
I asked as I stripped off my shirt and walked to my closet.

“Oh, you know.
We’re all falling into financial ruin.
The economy is going to collapse and only those with stockpiles of gold and bitcoins will make it through the apocalypse.
You know, normal stuff.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It will be.”

“What do you want to wear?”

“I don’t know.
I’m hoping Nick will get off work early.”

“What does he do again?”
I asked as I riffled through my closet, throwing everything that caught my eye on the bed.

“He’s in a band.”

I froze and had to mentally talk myself out of a sarcastic response.
“A band?”
I closed my eyes and hoped I didn’t sound judgmental.

“Yeah.
He plays guitar.”

“That’s cool.”
I finally collected myself enough to face her.
“We should go see him sometime.”

“Maybe.”
Melody held up a burgundy long-sleeved, low-cut cashmere sweater.
“How’s this?”

“With your boobs?
It will be perfect.”

“I do have great boobs.
My plastic surgeon is a genius.
Look, I know Nick isn’t anyone’s dream man but I’ve had enough relationship lemons thrown at me that I now know when to grab the tequila and salt.”
She unbuttoned her shirt and threw it on my floor before pulling the sweater over her head.
Stepping over to my full-length mirror, she turned to the side and sucked in her nonexistent gut.
“Good?”

“It looks great.”

“I wish it covered my ass a bit more.
Not everyone can have a tight butt like you.”
She walked over and slapped my ass.

“Good genes.
Should I wear this?”
I held up an off the shoulder baby blue tunic sweater.
It was fuzzy and soft.
Kind of like jammies.

“Didn’t we just talk about your ass?
That will cover it up.”

“Ryan’s already seen my ass.
Besides, I’ll keep on the jeans and I can flip it up if I think he forgot what it looks like.”

“True.
I like it.”

“Care!
You got a text message.
Who’s Michael?”
Sarah called through the door.

“Michael?”
Melody raised her eyebrows.

I opened the door and grabbed the phone.

Looking forward to next Saturday.
Don’t forget—wear a dress.
You have great legs.

“Michael.
I’ll need at least another two or three drinks to explain about Michael.
Let’s go and I swear I will fill you two in at dinner.
I want your perspective anyway.”

“Why does he want you to wear a dress?
Where are you going?”

“He’s an author.
There’s a dinner.
Let’s get out of here.
I need to eat.”

“That bad, huh?”
Sarah whispered.

“Um, yeah.
That bad.”