Authors: Alyssa Goodnight
Austentatious (12 page)
“They’re actually scattered a couple of places around the store,” he informed me as I trailed along behind him. “Easiest to find is right here.” His tattooed arm gestured toward a display of CDs. He then flipped through a half dozen jewel cases before he turned and extended his hand, holding out the object of my search.
“Great,” I answered, my voice almost unrecognizable as I reached for the CD. My eyes were riveted on the cover, mesmerized by the long, slippery neck of a sea monster surfacing behind the band as they stood on the shore of a loch—and by Sean’s face staring back at me.
Two minutes later, I was back in the car, clawing at the shrink-wrap with my short, blunt fingernails, trying to catch an edge in the plastic and rip it off. I could feel an unfamiliar urgency coursing through me ... and then—
finally—
it was free. Clumsily I pushed the disc into the changer, sparing one final glance for what I could only assume was the Loch Ness Monster. I was 99 percent certain that the photo had been digitally enhanced.
finally—
it was free. Clumsily I pushed the disc into the changer, sparing one final glance for what I could only assume was the Loch Ness Monster. I was 99 percent certain that the photo had been digitally enhanced.
Desperate once again to be
doing
rather than thinking, I shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot just as the haunting music from last night’s Web search filled the car.
doing
rather than thinking, I shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot just as the haunting music from last night’s Web search filled the car.
Somehow I managed to find my way home with the deep, dark edge of Sean’s voice coursing over me, through me, into me. I could picture him, singing these words, and it wasn’t so hard to imagine him singing them to me. It wasn’t until the CD changer clicked over to the next disc in the queue that I realized I’d been sitting in my driveway, oblivious to the world, for at least a half hour. Evidently the stand I’d intended to take against Fairy Jane had been cut off at the knees, and my willpower was fading fast.
It didn’t help that when I walked inside, threw my keys on the counter, and ripped away Saturday’s page in the quote-a-day calendar, Sunday’s read, “ ‘Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.’
Emma
.” Apparently I needed to get a little cheeky, and everything would work itself out. That didn’t exactly sound like a strategy to live by.
Emma
.” Apparently I needed to get a little cheeky, and everything would work itself out. That didn’t exactly sound like a strategy to live by.
9
In which Nic is vexed. And very possibly hexed.
B
y Monday I was back to normal, or at least relatively so. I mean, how normal was it possible to be with a magical journal stashed amid your literary classics? Right now I was boycotting the interfering little book, endeavoring not even to glance in its direction. And after my Sunday afternoon marathon whipping up the day’s second batch of cupcakes (lemon with Texas “Big Hair” Meringue) with my new CD cued up to repeat, I’d declared a moratorium on
Loch’d In
. The CD was now stashed with the journal, and I was immune to bad influence.
y Monday I was back to normal, or at least relatively so. I mean, how normal was it possible to be with a magical journal stashed amid your literary classics? Right now I was boycotting the interfering little book, endeavoring not even to glance in its direction. And after my Sunday afternoon marathon whipping up the day’s second batch of cupcakes (lemon with Texas “Big Hair” Meringue) with my new CD cued up to repeat, I’d declared a moratorium on
Loch’d In
. The CD was now stashed with the journal, and I was immune to bad influence.
True to ritual, I had checked the quote of the day and been vaguely surprised at how particularly apt it was on this, the day of my performance review: “ ‘There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves.’
Emma
.” But the coincidence was quickly forgotten amid the stress of the morning. I was desperate to hear the final decision on the open management position I’d applied for last month. It would be worth all the crazy uncertainty of the past couple of days, all the magical mumbo jumbo, if just this one little thing went according to The Plan. And then it was back to the antiques store for a chat with the Shop Nazi and a search for a magical key. Talk about living a double life.
Emma
.” But the coincidence was quickly forgotten amid the stress of the morning. I was desperate to hear the final decision on the open management position I’d applied for last month. It would be worth all the crazy uncertainty of the past couple of days, all the magical mumbo jumbo, if just this one little thing went according to The Plan. And then it was back to the antiques store for a chat with the Shop Nazi and a search for a magical key. Talk about living a double life.
Fidgety and unable to concentrate for more than ten minutes at a time, I was up and down all morning, walking off tension, weaving through the maze of cubicles, gravitating toward Brett’s cube like an awkward bee to honey. The whole situation was a prickly catch-22: I had no idea what to say to him—how to explain—about the wedding, the sexy stranger, or my unexpected disappearance, and yet I felt like I needed to see him, if nothing else, to recalibrate my thought processes.
But he was MIA. His lights were on and there were curly edged design schematics splayed over his desk, but Brett was disturbingly absent.
Even Gabe wasn’t available as a distraction.
I was just back from another go-round when my boss rapped on the door frame of my open-air cubicle and smiled. “Ready, Nic?”
I followed him back to his walled office, fantasizing over the possibility of getting a door and ceiling of my very own. The conversation started out great, with him congratulating me on an impressive slew of accomplishments (his words) and efforts above and beyond. I smiled in a self-deprecating manner and accepted the accolades. It was all very “Hallmark Special.”
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” he finally said, beaming as he slid a sheet of paper across the desk toward me. “You deserve it, Nic.”
This was it! I took a deep, shaky breath and bit my lip, holding it in as I reached for that crisp white sheet of paper that had the potential to change everything. Raising it, I glanced once more at my boss, now lounging back in his chair, a satisfied smile suffusing his face. My anticipation having now risen to a frenzied pitch, my gaze flitted over the page as my heartbeat thrummed in my chest.
A quick scan showed me I’d moved up a pay grade—always nice—and scored a promotion. Woo-hoo! A little more clout was never a bad thing. But there was no hint as to whether it was to be
managerial
clout or just plain-jane engineering clout, and I needed to know. I lowered the page, my smile settled firmly in place, and looked my boss directly in the eye.
managerial
clout or just plain-jane engineering clout, and I needed to know. I lowered the page, my smile settled firmly in place, and looked my boss directly in the eye.
“Any news on the open management position?”
His smile fell away, and his gaze scuttled away from mine as he shifted in his chair, and suddenly my heart’s thrumming turned to thudding, my climactic moment having taken a disappointing detour.
“The management team felt that right now you’re a much greater asset to us as a ‘hands-on’ engineer.”
No doubt. Who else was willing to pick up any and all slack in a blind quest for management? The ultimate irony. He kept talking, but all I heard was a droning buzz, which I suspected was the pressure in my head as I resisted the urge to let fly with a string of curses. When his lips finally stopped moving, I smiled my pissed-but-polite smile, somehow managed to grit out my thanks, and swung through the door.
“Oh hey, Nic,” he called, pulling me back. “Probably shouldn’t have, but I ate two of those cupcakes you brought in.” He smiled, patted his belly, and gave me a jaunty thumbs-up.
Fan-freakin’-tastic.
I smiled with teeth, and feeling like a human time bomb seconds from detonation, I focused on moving myself as far as possible from the greatest population density. I was in the hall when I finally went off, a mini mushroom cloud.
I smiled with teeth, and feeling like a human time bomb seconds from detonation, I focused on moving myself as far as possible from the greatest population density. I was in the hall when I finally went off, a mini mushroom cloud.
Once it was over, I indulged in a poor-baby and spent yet another moment likening myself to Cinderella, the drudge, the girl desperate to go to the ball. Funny thing was, I already
had
a fairy godmother, and I’d been to the ball, albeit another sort of ball entirely. And that had been more than I could handle. I definitely didn’t want Fairy Jane messing around with this part of my life—I was having enough trouble reining her in as it was.
had
a fairy godmother, and I’d been to the ball, albeit another sort of ball entirely. And that had been more than I could handle. I definitely didn’t want Fairy Jane messing around with this part of my life—I was having enough trouble reining her in as it was.
Still, I would love to do ...
something
. I couldn’t quit—that would be completely erratic and irresponsible—but
something
...
something
. I couldn’t quit—that would be completely erratic and irresponsible—but
something
...
“Ready for a change yet?”
The suggestion, out loud and “out there,” ignited a miniature spark in me, and I almost imagined it was coming from the little devil who sat, perpetually ignored, on my shoulder.
I quickly realized I was no longer alone in the hallway. Mark Frasier, division manager for the failure analysis lab, was standing two feet away, his approach having gone unnoticed amid the pity party.
The second I realized his comment had been intended as a legitimate offer, the spark exploded into a wild trail of color, a flare, wending its way through my thoughts, nudging disappointment into rebelliousness. Mark had casually offered me a place on his team more than once before, but I’d always brushed him off, a woman on a mission to management. But today I wasn’t in the mood for any sort of brush-off, having just been on the receiving end of a particularly upsetting one myself. Today I was feeling a little dangerous. I took a deep, steadying breath and let confident determination curl my lips.
“I think today I might be ready,” I admitted, exhilarated to register the startling effect this response had on Mark and just a little smug in the face of his slow, conspiratorial grin.
“Serious?” he said.
I let my eyes stray a little, nowhere in particular, and then brought them back front and center. “Yep.” It actually felt good to admit it. “Do you have openings?”
“We’re about to. One of our guys is moving to Phoenix, and you’d save me a lot of trouble, seeing as you’re an ace in the hole.” And then suddenly his enthusiasm and mine were dimmed somewhat by responsible thinking. “But you should probably take some time to think about it—this seems sort of spur of the moment.”
I nodded, exuding good sense but really only thinking how quickly I could have my cubicle packed up. “Well, I’m pretty sure, but if it’ll make you feel better, we can wait a couple days to make it official. How about I give you a call on Friday?” Me, I could make a clean break right now, toting along what was left of the cupcakes on my way to making new friends.
“Sounds good. Meantime, I’ll work on shuffling things up. We’ll get you in and get you to work before you can change your mind.” He winked.
I smiled, tossed him a wave, and moved off down the hall on my way back to my cubicle.
In fewer than twenty paces, the warm fuzzy of new beginnings and professional regard had started to fade, and suddenly struck by the reality of what had just happened, I was freaking out big-time.
I couldn’t take that job! I had no doubt it would be a fascinating career change and an oh-so-satisfying departure from the life of Go-To Girl, but it was
wrong for me
—it was counterproductive, impulsive, and it
totally
screwed with the big picture (i.e., The Plan). It would be like starting over. Instead of being focused on product testing and production efficiency, I’d be dealing with individual product failures, state-of-the-art analysis equipment, and angry customers. There’d be a significant learning curve, and management would be out of reach for a little while, likely beyond my target age of thirty... .
wrong for me
—it was counterproductive, impulsive, and it
totally
screwed with the big picture (i.e., The Plan). It would be like starting over. Instead of being focused on product testing and production efficiency, I’d be dealing with individual product failures, state-of-the-art analysis equipment, and angry customers. There’d be a significant learning curve, and management would be out of reach for a little while, likely beyond my target age of thirty... .
Transferring departments and switching jobs had
never
been on my agenda, but today, just now, it was nearly a fait accompli. Stress reaction? Possibly. Coincidence that it had happened within days of Fairy Jane worming her way into my life? Not bloody likely. You can bet I suspected foul play. How she managed it, I couldn’t even begin to speculate.
never
been on my agenda, but today, just now, it was nearly a fait accompli. Stress reaction? Possibly. Coincidence that it had happened within days of Fairy Jane worming her way into my life? Not bloody likely. You can bet I suspected foul play. How she managed it, I couldn’t even begin to speculate.
It had been over twenty-four hours since I’d decided to ignore Fairy Jane’s latest advice, putting her firmly in her place amid my collection of favorite fictional romances. Maybe she was a fellow grudge holder intent on kicking things up a notch. Well, I could play hardball too—the shredder was not out of the realm of possibility.
If she could derail The Plan in just a couple of unsuspecting minutes, then what was next?
A nose-pierced vision of myself, belting out “Beautiful” à la Christina Aguilera to a crowd of lesbians in an off-key show of solidarity was just as scary as it should have been. Part of me wondered if Fairy Jane had that kind of power. And part of me was starting to get very nervous.
I’d never planned to “meet him too” either. And look at me now—I’d kissed him, bought his CD, and I was well on my way to becoming a groupie. Could I even take credit for
those
decisions?
those
decisions?
I was going crazy!
This shouldn’t be freaking me out. I could call Mark right now and tell him to forget it, that I’d been talkin’ crazy. Easy out. But honestly, I was still reeling from being passed over for management all over again, and I was afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I tried. Time to make a quick exit, go find that key, and get some answers. I promised myself I’d ask Beck about all this later.
The phone rang as I stepped back through the doorway of my cubicle, and I debated not answering, a little fearful of what I might admit or agree to in this fragile state of not-myself. But crossing my fingers against virtually every eventuality, I picked up and found myself in the middle of a rant.
“A bikini, a mangotini, and a cabana boy?” Gabe blustered.
“Yes, please!” After the morning I’d had, a little fantasy come true sounded very, very good. So long as Fairy Jane wasn’t involved. . .
Judging by the silence, Gabe didn’t agree. I forged ahead. “Desert isle chick came back with an answer, huh?”
“Seems we weren’t
stranded
on the island, just alone, and she had cabana boy plans for
me!
” I imagined Gabe’s shouted admission sailing over the open-air cubicles that surrounded him and suppressed a giggle. “A little clarification would have been nice,” he complained.
stranded
on the island, just alone, and she had cabana boy plans for
me!
” I imagined Gabe’s shouted admission sailing over the open-air cubicles that surrounded him and suppressed a giggle. “A little clarification would have been nice,” he complained.
“It wouldn’t have mattered—you were proud of that EPIRB.”
“True.” I heard a muttered curse. “Do they all have to want me only for my body?”
“Ahh ... the dance of online seduction,” I teased, holding back a snort of laughter. “You Photoshopped, didn’t you? A little pec here and a little pec there ...”
“No! I did not. You may be programmed to only see a guy’s 401(k) potential, but I can hold my own on both the physical and financial fronts.”
This time I didn’t bother to hold back my burst of laughter. “Next time I see you, I’ll take another look,” I promised. “But now I gotta go.”
“To lunch? I’ll go with you.”
“No. I need to run an errand. Sort of a girl thing,” I added, knowing that’d stave off any and all follow-up questions.
“Say no more. Hey, how did your performance review go? That was this morning, right?”
“Tell you later,” I fudged, really not wanting to discuss it right now. I tried to hang up, but Gabe was evidently undeterred by my dismissive, slightly brusque manner. I yanked the phone back against my ear.
“What?” I demanded, my anger quickly morphing into guilt.
“Did Beck ... say anything?”
“About what?” I asked, trying to be nicer as I gathered up my purse and rummaged for my car keys.
“About me.”
I smiled into the phone. “You’re the one who left with her. I haven’t talked to her since.”
“Well, what’d you think?”
I was standing in my cubicle, hopped up on anxiety, ready to go but for the landline receiver attached to the side of my head, and Gabe wanted to dish like a junior high school girl. Resigned, I pulled out my chair and dropped into it.
“About you two? Well, let’s see. She’s very pink and a little punk; you’re very geek and a little ga-ga. And yet ... it seemed like you got along great. Just remember you’re old enough to be her mentor,” I teased. “Why not consider what your computer might think of the match? Seriously, can I go now?”
“Please do.”
Halfway to the lobby (and about four hours late) it occurred to me that the journal was spending the morning with the Austen ladies. No question it would take a miracle for me to find the right key amid the dubious treasures crowding Violet’s Crown Antiques, but it’d be downright impossible without the journal. Looked like I’d be making a little detour back home. I truly hoped I was in line for some good karma.
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