Emma vs. The Tech Guy (6 page)

“Guy? This is Emma. I need a favor.”

Chapter 6

Regret and humiliation crept in and made themselves right at home when I opened the door to the office to find Guy already there. “Wow, you got here quick,” I said.

“Yeah, I was just a few blocks away at Cherokees.”

Whoa, that was a long happy hour!
“You guys were still there?”

“Karaoke night.” He shrugged boyishly, and I once again pictured him on the stage singing, wooing the crowd as he did Jayne—and everyone else, for that matter. At least his hair seemed to have a purpose for once.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry I made you leave.”

“It’s no problem, really. So what’s up?”

“I feel silly now that we’re both here, but Mason emailed me the final cover on the redesign earlier today, and I didn’t get it.”

“Did you ask him to resend it?”

I answered with a head tilt and a
what am I
? look.

He smiled an apology and I relayed what Mason’s text said, trying not to sound completely paranoid.

“I know I should’ve waited until tomorrow, but I didn’t want to take any chances.” Not to mention I was dying to see the damn thing, but I didn’t want him to see my ridiculous obsession.

A smile I couldn’t quite read spread across his face.

“I know, pretty stupid, huh?” I darted my eyes away for a second, but they crept back to him on their own.

“Actually, no. You really care about this magazine, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do.”

“And you really seem to love what you do.”

I nodded.

“I get it,” he said, though his eyes appeared to be reading me like the foreign side of assembly instructions.

“I’ve put everything I’ve got into turning
New You
into something relevant. Something that’ll stand out and make people take notice. This redesign is my baby and ….” I faded when I felt his eyes peering into me.

“Don’t stop,” he said taking a step toward me. “I admire your passion. I wish I had something like that in my life.”

“Thanks. I’m sure a lot of people don’t see me that way. I know I can be a little … over the top sometimes.”
Did I just say that?
Why did I find the need to evaluate myself in front of him? And why did I suddenly worry what everyone thought of me? The staff saw results and they respected me for it. At least I was sure Adam and Jayne did. Didn’t they?

“I know my uncle really appreciates you. Thinks you’ve done an incredible job.”

Compliments had always been my kryptonite, sucking the life force from me. I turned away and headed towards the server room. “Should we take a look? Maybe you can make it back to the restaurant.”

“Either way,” he said, following close behind me. “I sort of got the feeling that going out and having parties wasn’t a rare occasion around here.” He chuckled.

“Put it this way: if you tell Adam you found your lost car keys, he’ll schedule a DJ and caterer before you reach your car.”

As I entered the room, a quick flashback of our last congregation there hit me. I glanced at the evil printing device, made a wide course around it, and then turned back at Guy. His face flushed a rosy hue before he said, “Sorry about the other day. Did you ever get that stain out?”

“It’s still at the dry cleaners.”

Guy shrugged and gestured to a chair. “Have a seat.”

“Me?” I asked.

“Sure. You should know how this works as well as I do.”

“Uh, okay.” I took a seat, surprised at how right he was. The more I knew the inner workings of the magazine, the more valuable I’d be. It’s not like I was technically challenged, though. I was usually too busy to deal with those types of issues.

Guy knelt down beside me, so close I could smell the battle between freshly clean man and party scene. A faint aroma of beer floated from his mouth to under my nose. “So, first click here,” he said and he pointed.

“I know that part,” I answered flatly.

For the next few minutes he maneuvered me through our server, email server, and back-up system. He pointed out a number of weak spots and outlined his plans for our upgrade, including some great efficiency tips. I stifled the urge to show how impressed I was with his ideas, but he didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Guess he was as much of an overachiever as I was.

“So you see,” he finally said, looking at me. “That email never even made it to our side of things. If you were worried maybe someone got their hands on it … didn’t happen.”

“I’m sorry I wasted your time,” I said, turning to face him. Only he was still kneeling next to me, so our faces were uncomfortably close. A sudden craving for a cold beer flash through me.

“I really didn’t mind,” he said, without moving.

He reminded me of Adam with his easy-going attitude. Was he just as much of a ladies man, too? I reminded myself that it was none of my business what he did and with whom. He was so close that I noticed tiny gold smudges hiding in his deep blue eyes, hypnotizing me for a few seconds. I felt lost in them, like I was in that room in
Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory
where you can’t tell how to get out. What did he say? “You’ve got to go forwards to go back.” But damned if I was going any deeper into those baby blues. That could only mean trouble.

The small, poorly ventilated room turned stifling hot before I could say “Wonka Bar.” I stood with awkward speed like I’d just been announced the raffle ticket winner, almost knocking him on his ass.

“Well, thanks anyway.” I walked over to the doorway and turned. “You still have time to get back and sing a few more numbers.”

He stood and faced me. “How’d you know I was singing?” The right side of his mouth perked up into a sexy, confident smirk.

“I didn’t.” I wasn’t about to tell him Jayne and I were talking about him. “I just assumed.”

“So you think I’m the type of guy that would jump on stage like an idiot and start singing in front of strangers?”

“I don’t know. Are you that type of idiot?” My smile gave me away.

“Actually, I am,” he said. He ran his fingers through that thick, dark hair. “But you know, I think I’ll stay here for a while. I was going to come in tomorrow to start a back-up, so I might as well start it now that I’m here.”

“Oh, okay.”

He followed me out to the main lobby, where I lingered with guilt once again.

“You need anything?” What was I going to bring him? A six-pack and some loose women to keep him company? I’d turned his night from fun to work because of my paranoia, but there was nothing I could do. Time to move on.

“No, I’m fine.” With his hands shoved in his pockets he added, “This actually works out for me since I needed everyone off the server. So don’t feel bad.”

He’d read my mind, or my expression was more obvious than I thought.

“Don’t work too hard,” I said, heading for the door, then cringed.
So lame
.

As I drove back home, I wondered if I’d have been better off match-making for Pop.

***

The living room was dark when I entered, except for the glow from the television. Howard slouched on the couch with his feet stretched across an ottoman. I hung up my coat, walked between him and the TV, and then stood staring at him.
Uh, hello? Anyone care I’m home?
I kicked off my shoes, letting them fall next to the table. Then I proceeded to stare at the candle centerpiece like I was trying to telekinetically move it.

My mind suddenly flashed to an imaginary scene at the office, everyone huddled in a corner of the lounge whispering among themselves, glancing my way with disgusted expressions. I blinked and shook my head.
No, that’s not happening.
Why was I suddenly doubting myself? When Bill hired me to write the “Newlywed News” column, I was thrilled and eager, but he knew I had my sights on something bigger. I put my time in, not to mention my soul and the sacrifices I’d made.
Now I’m questioning whether I deserve it
? Something was throwing me off my game, something—or someone—was the only reason I could see for second-guessing myself.

As clear as the glass candleholder in front of me, I pictured the culprit: Guy. Though not funny, the thought made me laugh. I was better than that, and I wouldn’t let him shake me. I know—I’d said it before, but sometimes a girl needs an extra pep talk. Even if she has to be the one to give it to herself. I started to wonder why Howard hadn’t shushed me or even acknowledged my presence.

“What’s up?” I asked, flopping down next him. I needed something to take my mind off my hideous psychosis.

The beer I hadn’t noticed wedged between his legs shook and splashed the side of his pants.

“Aw, come on!” Howard said, grabbing at the bottle.

I took the hint that his night was not as super fun as mine was. “Sorry, honey. Didn’t see it.”

He took a long swig and continued staring at a rerun of
Doogie Howser, MD
that I was sure he wasn’t really watching.

“Something happen tonight?”

“No.” He shook his head like he always did when he wanted me to exorcise the problem from him.

No problem.
I learned a long time ago that sometimes men are still little boys that need coddling. Even the biggest and strongest of them require a little baby talk or ego stroking to get them back on track. Grabbing my chin with my thumb and forefinger I spied up at the ceiling and uttered a couple of “hmms.” Then I put my arm around him.

“Demotion at work? Lose an account?”

No response.

God I hope it’s not me
. “I’m sorry. You’re razor is better than mine.”

He shot me an annoyed look but went right back to the tube.

“I put it back; hanging right in its little spot, one inch from the shaving cream.”

Silence

“C’mon what is it?”

“My mother called,” he said, staring at Doogie, who was flirting with a young girl.

“Oh. Right on schedule.” Howard hadn’t seen his parents in years after a falling out with his dad. As parents, those two showed about as much emotion and affection as plywood. His mother’s effort came in the form of a once-a-month phone call. Usually, Howard didn’t take the call, and her message was always the same. “Hi, Howard. It’s mom. Just wanted to see how you were doing. Watched the game with Dad last night. They had nice uniforms. Let’s talk, baby.” Howard was willing to overlook the fact that she had no clue about his business, which didn’t have anything to do with NFL uniforms. But stubborn as he was, there was no way he’d let them into his life again until his father called to apologize.

I pulled my optimistic face together and asked brightly, “So what did she say?”

Howard looked over and gave me the
really?
eye roll.

“Sorry.” I turned to the TV to see if the young doctor could inspire an idea. When neither of us spoke and the credits started rolling, I thought of Howard’s sister. “What about Emilia?”

“What about her?” Howard said. He clicked the off button.

“She should talk to your parents.” Howard didn’t know that Emilia and I had actually already had this conversation. She reminded me that Howard wasn’t the only one in the family that was stubborn.

“No, she shouldn’t. I don’t want her mixed up in this. And besides, should she really have to talk to them?” Howard was finally starting to come to life and show some emotion. Maybe I was better off with zombie man. “Should anyone have to talk with them?”

“No,” I answered solemnly. Sadness washed over me at the realization that Howard was right. His parents, mostly his dad, should care. He should want a relationship with his son. Even though my own father was a total flake, at least he showed me a smidgen of kindness … when he was around. And besides, I had my Pop. Howard deserved at least that much.

“Exactly. So screw it. I don’t need them.”

I kissed his cheek and grabbed his beer to steal a sip. “Well, you still have Pop. And don’t forget we’ve got Bill and Eleanor.”

“Yep,” he said with a brave grin. “They’re the best fake parents I ever had.”

A ping on my computer caught my attention. I jumped up to investigate. Mason had emailed me that his original message hadn’t gone through and resent it. There sat my new cover. I opened the file and gaped.
Holy crap! My vision is live!

Chapter 7

The grumble in the pit of my stomach felt strangely satisfying as Jayne and I entered the gym. I liked to think that working out hungry burned more fat and calories. Not to mention the overall added suffering. Howard’s sister and I regularly met at Future Fitness after work, but this time I had Jayne with me. She claimed it had nothing to do with the fact that some of the guys from the office would be there practicing for the basketball tournament. Unfortunately, Jayne and Emilia didn’t get along, so I’d have to find a way to show my
I’m sorry
face to Emilia without Jayne seeing it. I would never admit it to either of them, but I was beginning to realize that my friendship with Emilia did not have a strong foundation. And the closer I got to Jayne, the more I realized how much I needed her as a friend.

A text from Emilia told me she was running late, so Jayne and I headed to the indoor court to check on the fellas. I spotted Bill on the court practicing free throws and couldn’t help but smile. The big boss was shorter than everyone but was giving it his all. If there was anyone more competitive than I was, it was Bill. His next shot hit the rim and flung back so fast he had to duck to avoid getting hit.

“Son of a bitch!” His scream echoed throughout the gym. He flinched and executed a 360-degree scan to make sure nobody witnessed his shot or his blowup. Of course, all eyes scattered, busy with other things.

Adam noticed me and jogged over. Jayne stopped short to take a call on her cell.

“What’s up, girl?” Adam offered me a fist bump, which I appreciated given his sweatiness. “Where’s your cheerleading outfit?”

“Very funny. How’s it going?” I asked. I surveyed the area trying make out who was participating. “We any better than last year?” I hid my smirk as I watched Marty’s shot fly through the air and miss the rim by at least four feet. Poor guy was wasting his time. He had to know his hands would never touch that ball during the game.