Heartless (3 page)

“Did you see Tom and Taja this weekend?” I asked. His kids were nine and eleven now and they lived with their mom in Ojai. Everyday, I think Brian wished he hadn’t been divorced. It hadn’t been his choice, apparently, but after every other weekend he seemed to ruminate on what he could have done differently.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Take my advice, kid, appreciate everything you’ve got while you’ve got it. There are no guarantees in life.”

He was preaching to the choir and he knew it. He patted me on the shoulder. “Sorry, just feeling melancholy today.” But Brian’s melancholy was more chipper than most people’s best happy mood.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. I got busy organizing the storeroom and refilling the shelves.

Just as I was finishing up, the bells above the door tinkled as a harried looking woman entered the store. She strode up to the counter and dropped her oversized purse next to the register. I shifted my half empty coffee mug to the side so it wouldn’t get knocked over.

“Can I help you?” said Brian.

“I have five minutes to pick out a paint color for my family room. I sure hope you can help me.”

Brian waved over at the board of paint chips. “We can mix any color you want.”

The woman pursed her lips. “I don’t know what I want. That’s why I need the help.”

“Our designer isn’t in for another half hour. If you can come back then—”

“—Did you hear the part about five minutes?” The woman frowned.

Brian glanced nervously at me. He counted on his customers knowing what they wanted or having Eliana there to help them out. Most of the customers in this neighborhood were designers who knew exactly what they wanted on behalf of their building and renovation clients.

“Heather, would you please help out this lovely lady?”

I swallowed. I had only been working out front a couple of weeks so far. I didn’t know anything about choosing colors. Oddly, Brian knew less. He had a secret. Brian owned a paint shop but he was color blind. He was more of a chemist than a colorist. He followed the codes on the back of the paint chips and trusted his customers would tell him if they weren’t satisfied. His wasn’t the most popular paint store in LA but he did have a good return policy and a steady client base of contractors and designers.

I cleared my throat and said, “Certainly.”

I reminded myself of Miranda’s recent coaching words, ‘fake it till you make it’. Half the battle of changing and growing was acting out the change confidently before you believed it to be true. It was one of the short cuts in life, she said. Believing you can do something comes before actually being able to do it, and practicing doing it builds the confidence to make the belief a reality.

I came out from behind the counter and led the woman toward the paint chips. I recalled a bunch of questions Eliana might ask in this situation. Was the room light or dark? What kind of furniture was in it? What kind of mood did she want to set? And then I wracked my brain for the three most popular colors this season. Eliana said everyone always wanted what everyone else wanted so if in doubt say, “these are the top choices by designers lately”, and invariably the person would pick one of those. We cycled through the subtle creams and greys and then I pointed out the bold green and pink shades that were hot this summer. I was surprised when the woman picked pink.

When I handed the chip to Brian to do the mixing, he said, “There’s some rough looking guy over in the paint brush aisle. Make sure he’s not stealing anything.”

I hadn’t even heard the door bell jingle while I was picking out colors. I casually made my way along the end of each aisle straightening as I went. When I got to the brush aisle, my breath caught in my throat.

6’2, faded jeans, leather jacket, white T-shirt, black boots, reflective aviator glasses, perfectly mussed up dark hair and a motorcycle helmet in one hand. The free hand removed the glasses and two piercing blue eyes stared at me.

Full, perfect lips curled into a half-smile. “I’m looking for the softest one that can reach into the tightest corners.”

“Josh,” I whispered. He smiled fully at the surprised look on my face.

“So you haven’t forgotten me yet?”

“How did you find me?”

“All morning I’ve been looking for a convertible in a parking lot of a paint store.”

“I didn’t drive today.”

“Yes, I deduced that. So this is round two. I have half a dozen new paint brushes now.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Are you happy to see me?”

“Um, yeah. I guess so.” I feared I had turned the color of the paint Brian had just set in the shaking machine now grumbling away across the store.

Josh furrowed his brow. “You don’t sound all that enthusiastic.”

“Are you
stalking
me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ah, that explains the lack of enthusiasm.” He shoved his glasses into the thick hair above his forehead. “Look, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you over the weekend. I mean, that sounded wrong.
Not
in a stalkerish kind of way.”

His voice got a bit softer and he took a tentative step closer. “In a missed-opportunity kind of way. I’ve never jumped into a girl’s car before. Seriously. You can ask my buddy, Rob. I mean, I’ve never
abandoned
my bike before.” He tapped his foot nervously. “You, like, kind of did something to me and I’m curious to know what. And why.” He paused for a second but I couldn’t think of anything to say in response to all that; I was too busy trying to get my heart rate to slow down.

He looked over his shoulder at the door and then gestured toward it with his helmet.

“Look, I’ll just go. I really don’t want to freak you out any more than I already have. I just thought… you know, maybe you had felt something, too. After you got over the psycho part of your reaction.”

I grinned wildly all of sudden. “I watched it on the weekend,” I said. “I swear I’m never taking a shower again.” I started to laugh nervously. Why did I say that? I didn’t want him to conjure up images of me in the shower.

He cleared his throat. “Is that a weird way of saying you thought about me over the weekend?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” I wasn’t about to say I nearly ran off the PCH fantasizing about him making me bend over the hood of a car. “Yeah, I’m sorry I just dumped you at Dunkin’ Donuts. That was rude.”

He took another step toward me. “It was totally understandable. I can see how you freaked out. Can we start over?”

I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Well, I didn’t drive today so it’s not like you can jump into my car again.”

“Hey, you said ‘my car’ this time.”

I shrugged. “Fake it till you make it.”

He smiled. “I could come back when you’re off work? There’s fro-yo place over on Melrose that’s really good. We could go there.”

I figured a guy who said ‘fro-yo’ probably wasn’t a stalker.

“I guess so,” I said. “I”m off at five.”

His shoulders kind of relaxed and his smile looked so relieved. “Great,” he said, just as Brian turned into the aisle.

“Can I help you?” said Brian in an uncharacteristically unfriendly voice.

“It’s okay, Brian,” I said. “I’m taking care of it.”

Josh nodded politely at Brian. To me Josh said, “Thanks for your help, uh….?”

“Oh, it’s Heather.”

“Thanks, Heather.” He offered me another quick smile before heading toward the door.

Brian crossed his arms. “He didn’t buy anything.”

I shrugged and smiled as I walked back to the counter. Josh may not have bought anything, but I was pretty sure he got what he came for.

I felt nervous all day, which stretched on interminably. I couldn’t wait until five o’clock, but when 4:30 rolled around I suddenly wanted time to stop. What was I getting into? What did a dangerous charmer like Josh see in me? He could pick up a zillion hot babes at Venice Beach if he wanted to. He could strut down Rodeo drive and fulfill all kinds of desperate housewives’ fantasies. He could cruise his motorcycle down Santa Monica Boulevard and sweep any tourist or local off her feet. What the heck did he see in me?

I thought about asking Brian if I could leave early, so I wouldn’t have to worry if Josh showed up or not. But standing him up would be beyond rude. I might be shy and lack confidence but at heart I wasn’t a rude person. If he didn’t show I would feel stupid and embarrassed but I would probably get over it, eventually. I remembered that I still had a bit of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia in the freezer. That would help some.

Just before five, Brian asked me if I wanted a ride home.

“No, thanks. I’ll walk.” I did this fairly often but Brian always offered to drive me.

“All right,” said Brian, finishing the cash out. “I’ll lock up the back and go out that way. You can do the front.”

I nodded. That was perfect. I didn’t want Brian and Josh to cross paths again just yet.

After Brian left, I locked up and waited out front listening for the roar of a motorcycle engine. My heart was pounding. Cars swooshed by but I neither saw, nor heard, anything on two wheels.

At 5:06, my heart had stopped its pounding and was beginning to sink. I looked up and down Fairfax, telling myself to have faith for another 5 or 10 minutes in case Josh had gotten stuck in traffic. A couple more minutes passed, still no Josh. I was about to give up and start walking home when I heard someone yelling my name. I turned toward the end of the block and saw Josh jogging toward me. My emotions jumped all over the place: relief, irritation, nervousness, and my body did some weird stuff, too. My heart started pounding again, for one thing, and my knees felt a little weak. Without realizing it, I was holding my breath, so when he had jogged right up to me I had to let out a big sigh so I didn’t turn a funny shade of purple—a combination of blue from not breathing and red from nervous embarrassment.

“Sorry, sorry,” said Josh, breathing heavily. He had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, which he rubbed off and into his hair so that it stood up at rakish angles. He carried his leather jacket under the arm holding his helmet so I could clearly see his tanned muscles flexing under his white T-shirt. I stared up at him, still trying to catch up to the fact that he was here, standing in front of me, and I had to teach myself to breath all over again.

“Hi,” I said, working hard to even out my breathing and my heartbeats. “I almost gave up.”

He was still catching his breath when he pulled off his sunglasses and branded me with his hot blue gaze. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

I had to look away from those eyes. I caught sight of his helmet as my eyes dropped to the pavement.

“Where’s your bike?”

“That’s why I’m out of breath,” he explained. “I parked it over on Melrose and jogged over here.”

I looked up at him with a question in my eyes.

He shrugged. “I thought you’d feel more comfortable walking together first.”

He’d already been thinking about my comfort? I smiled. “Thanks. I do.”

We headed back to the corner and turned down one of the side streets starting a zig zag path toward Melrose.

“How was work?” said Josh.

“Nothing special.” Except for you coming in, I wanted to say, but didn’t.

“Was that guy Brian your boss?”

“Yeah, sorry he was a bit brusque. He’s pretty protective of me.”

“Why? You seem like you can take care of yourself.”

“I do?” That’s not at all how I felt and it’s certainly not how anyone had treated me for the last three years. Not since the Tragedy, but I wasn’t about to bring that up with a stranger. In fact, I was never going to bring it up ever again, except with Miranda.

“Maybe it’s just that ‘fake it till you make it thing’, but you seem pretty strong to me,” he said.

I looked up at Josh’s profile. He was the epitome of strong. I felt safer just walking next to him. Though the unfamiliar feelings he was arousing in me felt dangerous. I was looking forward to the cooling effects of the frozen yogurt.

“You still haven’t told me what you do for work,” I said.

He tossed his head back. “Ah, the first of the twenty questions. Why is that so important to girls? Does it really matter?”

“Within certain parameters, yes. Like what if you were a pimp or a hit man?”

“Or a professional stalker?”

“Well, you know. What a person does kind of defines who they are, don’t you think?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I think
why
a person does what he—or she—does define them. You work at a paint store, for an overly protective boss, and I’m more interested in the why than the what.”

“That’s just because you already know the what. Do you even have a job? I mean, it’s Monday and you were scoping out paint stores.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I have Mondays off, sometimes I work weekends. Each week’s a bit different.”

“The unpredictability sounds exciting, and mysterious.”

“Seriously,
not exciting
.” Sighing, he said, “I work in construction right now. That should dispel your sense of mystery.” Was it my imagination or did he seem kind of embarrassed by his job? It made me wonder if I should feel stupid working at a paint store, but honestly, it’s the most I could handle. So far.