The Casual Rule (34 page)

“That’s the best offer I’ve had all week.”

Allie leaves my bedroom with the tray. After a few minutes, she comes back, wearing her own pair of flannel pajamas, holding two glasses, a bottle of wine, and a familiar white box with thin red string wrapped around it. I know it immediately.

“You bought cupcakes for me?” I ask, my lip quivering.

“I did,” she says proudly. “Hey, what’s wrong? Since when do cupcakes upset you? These were supposed to make you feel better.”

“They do. I just know how long the lines are at Clara’s. And I know how much you hate lines. You did it anyway, just to make me feel better.”

“Of course.” She shrugs.

“Allie?”

“Mmm?” she hums as she pours the wine in our glasses.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For listening to me. For the cupcakes. For everything.”

“Pfffttt. That’s what best friends do. Jules, no matter what...I will always have your back. No man will ever break us.”

“I love you, Al.”

She hands a wine glass to me. “I love you too. Cheers.”

We clink our glasses and drink.

“Allie?”

“Mmm?” she hums, tilting her head to the side.

“You know I’m going to eat all the cupcakes in that box tonight.” My eyes flit to the box of what I know is half a dozen delicious cakey treats.

“Yeah, I know.” She winks and raises her wine glass. “They’re all yours.”

My broken heart may be shattered into a million tiny pieces, but I know I’ll always have Allie to help pick them up.

~o0o~

Monday has snuck up on me once again. It’s time to suck it up and rejoin the living. I’m glad it’s a work day; it’ll be a pleasant distraction from my personal life’s turmoil. This will be the first time since Friday night that I’ve worn anything but flannel pajamas.

I go through all the motions of a workday morning, barely paying attention to anything I’m doing. It’s so mechanical to me at this point.  After a quick subway ride to midtown, I walk toward my building. I see Emilio’s Café coming up, and although I know it’s closed this early in the morning, I cross the street to avoid passing it. I don’t want to relive the painful memory of that bitch wrapped around him.

I hate that I miss him. I hate that I can’t get him out of my head no matter how hard I try.

At work, Vivian has asked me a few times if everything was okay. I know she cares about me, more than just a boss/employee relationship and I appreciate it. I don’t want to crumble at work. I need to stay focused and professional.

“Vivian, I emailed my edits to Jennifer White. Are there any other notes you need me to forward?”

“No. I can forward the rest. I have the files.” She clears her throat. “Is everything all right? I don’t mean to pry, but you seem a little preoccupied.”

“Uh…everything is fine. I must be coming down with a cold or something,” I lie.

My work load has been pretty light for a Monday. I suspect Vivian is still handling me with kid gloves until I pull myself back together.

It’s three in the afternoon when Vivian calls me into her office.

“Julia, I have a meeting with an author at four. It’s a pretty slow day. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and go home early. Get some rest... you know, since you’re not feeling well.”

Normally I’d argue the point and insist on staying. I always want to be professional, despite anything going on in my private life. But the truth is, I’m mentally exhausted and take the gift she’s given me. I’m pretty sure she knows I’m lying, but I play along.

“Thanks Vivian. If you’re sure it’s not a problem, I think I will.”

Before I leave the office for the day, I take a quick look at Vivian’s schedule on my computer screen to see who she’s meeting and it becomes clear to me why she wants me gone. One Mr. Ben Martin is her four o’clock. The appointment was set up before we imploded. I forgot all about it. I guess we weren’t fooling anyone. Vivian obviously put two and two together and figured out that Ben and I had a thing and he is the reason for the black cloud hanging over my head.

I don’t want to bump into him. I know eventually I’ll have no choice and I’ll have to see him professionally again, but I’m not ready for that today. I quickly pack up my stuff and leave.

The elevator door opens and I step in, pressing the lobby button.

“Leaving early today?”

I turn and see Jake, the office leech, at the back of the elevator. How did I miss him?

“Uh…yes.”

“Early date with that guy?” I know he’s referring to Ben, as we lead him to believe Ben was my boyfriend.

“Um, no.” I answer flatly, staring straight ahead.

“You’re not seeing him anymore?” Jake is nothing, if not tenacious.

“No.” I stare at the lit up panel of floor numbers. Are all the elevators in New York this slow or just the elevators I use?

“Well, I can leave early too. I’ll buy you a drink …or we could just skip it and go straight for the good stuff at my place,” he says smoothly as he wiggles his brows suggestively. He really thinks he’s got game. Amazing how clueless he is. Then again, maybe I should take Jake up on a drink and…

My God, what is this lunacy I’m entertaining? Me and Jake? I’m more messed up than I thought.

I think I just hit rock bottom.

~o0o~

Tuesday comes and my curiosity is piqued. I wonder if Vivian will give me any clues about her meeting with Ben or if she’ll spare the gory details and stop my heart from breaking even more. I bet he looked good. He always looks good. He probably wore one of those turtlenecks he looks so hot in. I wonder if his Benessence is still wafting in the office.

I arrive at work and see Vivian already sitting at her desk with her office door open.

“Good morning, Julia,” Vivian calls out from her office.

“Good morning. You’re here early.” I walk into her office and stand behind the two chairs facing her desk.

“Yes, I’m catching up on some work. My four o’clock meeting yesterday went a little long. It appeared as though my author was purposely stretching it out, perhaps in hopes of maybe bumping into someone?” She peeks over her glasses, lifting a brow.

I’m not biting.

I rest my hand on the top of one of the chairs. I wonder if this is the chair he sat on. I glide my hand across the top, just to feel close to him
.
“I’m sorry it ran so long. Would you like a coffee? I’m getting one for myself.”
Because I only sleep two hours a night.

“Thanks, I already have my coffee. Did I mention the author I met with was Ben Martin?”

“No, I don’t think you mentioned that.”
Although it’s all I’ve thought of since I saw his name on your schedule yesterday.

“Yes, he seemed rather preoccupied. Curious thing, he looked back in the direction of your desk quite a few times.”

“HmmMmm.” I pretend this information doesn’t faze me.

“He looked awful. Who would think it was possible for such a handsome man to look so terrible… like he lost his best friend.”

Yeah, well he found a new friend pretty fucking quickly, didn’t he?

As much as I want to hear about Ben, it’s killing me on the inside. I have to stop this conversation.

“Would you like Margaret Sullivan’s manuscript? I finished my edits.”

“Sure. Email the file with your notes.”

~o0o~

I walk back to my desk and sit. I’m tired. I’m just so tired. I press my fingers to the keyboard to find the Sullivan file to send to Vivian, when I come across the one file I forgot to delete. The duplicate copy I kept for myself of Ben’s photo shoot for the back of his book cover.

Against my better judgment, I open the file. It’s picture after picture of Ben smiling, reading, serious…beautiful. I reach across and touch the screen, tracing his lips, his dimples. I ache looking at a few simple images of him. It’s a dull, hollow ache that penetrates through my entire body. I close the file and drag it over to the recycling bin on the top corner of my desktop screen. I need to do this, to delete him from my life in order to move forward.

I hesitate before I drop the contents to the recycle bin. Taking in a deep breath, I watch the folder icon hovering over the recycling bin. I keep my finger on the button, closing my eyes briefly, then release the folder and hopefully Ben along with it.

Chapter 18

It’s been three weeks since I spotted Ben having drinks at Emilio’s with Cam-eel. I hoped with time I’d start to feel a little better, but I’m still just as empty as I was the day I left his apartment for good. I grab a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies and retire to my bedroom for the night. I sit on my bed, staring off at nothing, listening to my iPod when Allie cracks open my bedroom door. I take one earplug out of my ear.

“Are you ever going to leave your bedroom? Other than work, this is the only place you go.”

I look up at her and shrug.

“What number playlist are you listening to?” she asks sharply, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“What does it matter?”

“Just tell me,” she insists.

“Number five.”

She waves a finger back and forth. “No. I know playlist number five all too well. That’s your depressing love songs for the brokenhearted list. The next thing I know you’re going to take out a box of crayons and draw sad clowns all night. Change the playlist right now.”

“It suits my mood,” I grumble, hugging my pillow.

“You need a mood lifter. Jules, you can’t stay in your pajamas every weekend feeling sorry for yourself. It’s Friday night. Rejoin the living. Please come out with us tonight.”

“Thanks Al, but I just don’t have it in me.”

“I have enough for the both of us. You’re coming, even if I have to drag you out in those ridiculous flannels. Don’t test me Julia. You know I’ll do it,” she warns.

She’s not kidding. I know she would. I could protest until I’m blue in the face, but the truth is, I know Allie is never going to stop nagging. Her intentions are good. And she’s right. I need to rejoin the living. Move forward with my life without him. The mourning has to end.

“Fine, but I leave when I want to leave.” I cave.

“Deal!” Allie jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “You won’t regret this, Julia.”

I hope not.

~o0o~

“Seriously, is that what you’re wearing?” Allie frowns, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask, looking down at my outfit.

“Jeans and a crappy old T-shirt? The dance club’s name is Sinful, dress the part.”

“I think I look fine.”

Allie walks over to my closet, pulls out a sleeveless black lace Dior dress I picked up at a sample sale and throws it at me. “Wear this. You’ll look hot.”

“I don’t want to look hot.”

“Too bad. I’m your Fairy Fucking Godmother tonight and I’m not letting you out of the apartment looking like that. I’ll lose my fairy license if you don’t comply. Do you want the other godmothers to laugh at me? They’re a catty group of flying bitches. Chop, chop. Abracadabra, hocus fucking pocus, so on and so forth. Get changed.”

 “Fine,” I growl.

I change into the little black lace dress Allie threw at me. It’s form fitting and short. Not prostitute short, but short enough. I slip on my five-inch heels and stand in front of the full length mirror. My black hair is down and falling perfectly around my shoulders. For the first time in weeks, I don’t have bags under my eyes and the green eyes looking back in my reflection sparkle. I look good and I feel it. I feel human again, not the mechanical being I’ve been. I feel like me.

Allie walks back into my room wearing a short, low cut hot pink dress. She looks at me and grins. “You look hot, my friend. Sizzling hot. Now off to the ball we go. Vince is meeting us there.”

Vince is Allie’s newest conquest and from what she’s told me about him, he seems to be one of her better choices in men. For starters, he’s employed. He’s part owner of a marketing firm in the city that specializes in clubs. Sinful is one of their biggest clients and his dealings with them is our ticket inside this very exclusive club.

The taxi drops us off in front of Sinful. There’s a line about half a city block long to get in. Allie walks up to one of the tank-sized bouncers and gives our names. He checks his clipboard and lets us walk right in. That’s pretty cool. Vince just won a few points.

The first thing you notice at Sinful is the volume of the music. You can feel the bass vibrations through the building. It’s insanely loud with a DJ booth way up over the dance floor. A rotating light show in purples and hot pink shining on what has to be the hugest disco ball I’ve ever seen. This is definitely the place for beautiful people, a depot for every model in New York City. The dance floor is wall-to-wall people. It looks like half of Manhattan is here.

“This way, we’re going to the V.I.P. lounge,” Allie yells over the pounding rhythm of the music, pointing to a staircase that leads to another level overlooking the dance floor. We carefully climb up the staircase; this is no easy feat in five-inch heels. We’re greeted by a hostess in silver hot pants and a tight pink button down shirt with most of her breasts hanging out. I’m betting that girl is going to clean up in tips tonight. Allie gives her our names and we’re waved in. Purple and gray crushed velvet couches and small tables with lit votive candles are set up in small clusters everywhere. The room is dimly lit with a large stainless steel bar in the middle. It’s a little quieter than downstairs, thankfully.

I try hard not to stare, but I can’t help noticing that half of the celebrities I’ve read about in my gossip rags are sitting at these tables. Holy crap. I’m hanging with the A-listers. I hope I don’t end up on one of those “what not to wear” pages.

Stay cool, Julia. Hide the fangirl dork lurking inside of you.

“Vince!” Allie exclaims, waving to a good looking sandy blonde haired guy in a pair of jeans and a tight black T-shirt leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender. I knew this must be Vince by the amount of tats I see on his arm. Allie loves her tats. He looks up and waves, motioning for us to come to the bar.