LIKE (Social Media #2) (5 page)

Good morning, #MrsInvisibleMan.

Wow. I smile. I’m smiling like… huge. It almost feels like we’re friends now. I stare up at the ceiling for a few seconds. Vaughn Asher is texting me good morning. And he’s calling me MrsInvisibleMan. It’s weird that he’s calling me that, but I started it last night with the
#MrsInvisibleOnline
hashtag. I tap the screen to pull up the keypad and type out a response.

What kind of perks do I get for being your Mrs?

He texts back immediately and I bite my lip as I wait, my eyes glued to the little
typing
message.

I take care of what’s mine. Whatever you want.

Haha. Then I will get you my list. :) I gotta go to work. Toots.

I throw the phone down and get up so I’m not tempted to stay in bed and chat with him. I have to mentally shake myself for a second, because it’s just so surreal. I’m starstruck and yet not all at the same time. Last week this man was the star of all my sexual fantasies. And this week I know him intimately.

Not as intimately as I’d like, it’s been a strange introduction. But holy hell, I had sex with him. Twice.

Yeah, it was the same day, and they were both on vacation. But still. Twice.

And he’s still calling—and texting, and messaging—so that means he wants more than sex. Right? I’m not delusional, am I? He’s definitely interested in something else, because for whatever reason, he’s making sure he leaves a lasting impression. And he might even be going out of his way to make it… well, maybe not good. But certainly satisfactory.

I take care of what’s mine.

That’s not something a man says when he’s looking to move past a one-night stand.

Am I way off here? Is he just blowing smoke up my ass? But why do that? I’m nobody.

Maybe that’s why he wants you, Grace? Because you’re safe. You’re secret. You’re invisible.

But I even met his parents. Sure, it was the briefest of meetings. I barely said hello. But I met the famous Adam Asher. And his weird brother Conner. And his beautiful fragile sister, who really did marry the wrong man, even I picked up on that.

I take a shower and my fingers wander down to the cleft of my sex. I consider it for a moment, but I pull back before I even get started. If I’m going to be twexting with Vaughn Asher tonight, I want to be aching for release.

Thirty minutes later I’m heading out the door and out of habit I head to my car, but just as I’m clicking the door locks, I remember—I don’t have to drive.

Yes. I even do a fist pump.

The full meaning of my promotion hits me and I allow myself a wide, broad, beaming smile as I walk back into my building, exit the front door, and find myself out on Wazee Street. It’s always been a dream of mine to be able to live and work locally. And now that I’m working in our Downtown office instead of the Cherry Creek office, I can do that.

I walk up to the Sixteenth Street Mall and the free mall bus is just pulling up. My Starbucks is only a block and a half down, but what the hell? How many people get to take the mall bus to work? I get on, stand, weaving a little as the bus moves, then get off on the next stop with a grin. My Starbucks is only a few steps away and my new work—right across the street.

I do a little happy dance in my head and pull the door open on my favorite coffee establishment. I keep my coffee money on my handy Starbucks app, so I pull that up as I stand in line and wait my turn.

And this is when my dream comes crashing back to reality.

I spent almost all my money on that first-class plane ticket home and I won’t be paid for another week. I have to make a car payment in a few days, and that right there will wipe out my whole account. I will be short, in fact, once I pay insurance. The prepaid balance on my Starbucks card is even worse. I might not even be able to afford my coffee right now. If my memory serves, my card might have about three dollars left.

Maybe I can sell my car? Then I wouldn’t have that payment. Two payments if I stopped my insurance.

I dig through my purse, looking for change.

“What can I get you?” the overworked cashier asks me.

“Um, just a venti Coffee of the Day, thanks.” I look longingly at the muffins as I wait for him to fill up my cup. That’s one perk of getting cheap coffee. They fill it up for you as you wait. “And a blueberry muffin,” I add quickly once he sets down my drink.

“Four seventy-five.”

I flash my app under the scanner and gather up my nickels and dimes. I know I don’t have that much on my card.

But he hands it back with a receipt and says, “Next!”

I take my coffee over to the milk station and add in three sugars and half-and-half, still thinking about my card balance.

I guess it’s my lucky day. I smile again as I stir my coffee and put a lid on it. My step is a bit lighter as I walk out the door and enjoy the crisp fall air as I stroll across the street to my office.

The downtown office of Big Guys Events, of which I am now an employee, is run by Scott Baker and his brother, Blake. They own the Cherry Creek office too, but they call that one Little Lady Events, and it’s run by the bitchy sisters, Leah and Ali—gag, they are a
Mean Girls
movie waiting to happen. I was never a favorite of theirs, so I was a little surprised when I got promoted up to Big Guys, but hey, I’m just living, breathing proof that hard work pays off.

The Big Guys are super-cool. We hit it off immediately at my interview and I’m hoping they give me club events to manage as my first gig. Big Guys handles a bunch of those, all of them hip, trendy rock clubs that have up-and-coming bands playing every weekend and special events once a month.

I’d be the special events girl. I wouldn’t be dealing with rock bands, thank God. Just planning one or two fantastic parties for each club every month.

Whew.

The reality of that is sort of stressing me out as I pull open the door to our building and push the button for the elevator. Our building is six stories tall and only has our offices on the top two floors. The bottom floor is a sandwich shop, but there’s a separate entrance for that.

The doors open so I get in and hit the button for the fifth floor for a quick stop at my office—squee—before I have to check in with the Big Guys on the top floor for my assignments. The doors open and Flora, the main receptionist, greets me with a wave as she talks to someone on the phone through her headset. My office is the last on this floor. It’s small and dark, but I do not care.

I flip on the light and stand there for a moment to let it sink in.

I’ve made it. I’m here. And even though the thirty-two-thousand-dollar salary isn’t a lot, it’s two thousand dollars more than I was making in Cherry Creek.

So squee again!

I sit at my old desk and take out my laptop and set it up next to my new desktop so I can check my mail.

I have a bunch of spam and an email from MrInvisible. I have to smirk as I open that up.

Enjoy your first day!

Wait. Did I tell him I started a new job? Did I give him my email?

“Grace?” Flora calls from outside my door. “You have a delivery.”

“Delivery?” I get up and peek out the door and spy the most ginormous bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen. They are like two feet tall and four feet wide, I’m not even joking. “What’s that?” I ask, walking up to the reception desk.

“Flowers, obviously.” Flora says, peeking out from behind them and pushing up her nerd glasses. “You have a great guy, I’m so jealous.”

“Um, yeah. He’s really great. I don’t know if I can even carry—”

“I’ll get them, Grace,” Scott says as he walks up to us. “I was just coming to see if you were in yet.” He grabs the massive arrangement with ease, since he and Blake really are big guys, and walks it down to my office. He sets it down on the only table and then turns to face me. “We have a serious problem,” he says.

“Oh?”

“Yes, now listen, I don’t want you to think we’re taking advantage of you, but Grace, you’re the only person who can do this job.”

“What job?”

“The wedding,” he huffs out. “I know we don’t do weddings here, and the whole reason you wanted a promotion was so you can move away from weddings, but this is John Blazen’s fiancée. And Johnny went to school with us—with my sister, specifically—and wants us to handle the wedding, but the new Mrs. refuses to use Leah over at Little Lady.”

“Blazen? He’s the new quarterback for the Broncos?”

“Uh, yeeeahhh,” Scott says back, like he can’t believe I had to ask. “This wedding is the event of the year and it’s happening in two weeks. But Leah pissed off the future Mrs. Blazen, and now she wants Big Guys to handle everything. So…” He hesitates and shuffles from one foot to the next. “Will you do it?”

“How come I’ve never heard of this wedding?”

“Total hush-hush,” Scott says as he wipes his brow. He’s really sweating my answers. Which is ridiculous. I never say no. I’m a yes-girl. And besides, like I’d really turn down my first assignment. It’s something I do well and they need me. “Blazen just got raked over the coals by his ex after that whole cheating scandal, and didn’t want the media to know about it until after it’s over.”

“OK, I mean, sure, Scott. Whatever you guys need.”

He claps me on the shoulder—hard, like he must do to his brother—and beams a smile at me. “That’s great. I’ll make sure your club events are all taken care of this month. The wedding’s in Vegas in two weeks. I’ll have Flora get all Leah’s preparations over to you, stat, and you can set up a meet-and-greet with the future Mrs. Blazen today.”

Before I can ask if the future Mrs. Blazen has a name that might not reference the husband she doesn’t yet have, Scott is off, being his usual boisterous self to my new co-worker Adam.

I let out a deep breath. OK, for a first assignment, a wedding is right up my alley. It’s a good thing, really. It will give me time to settle in without the pressure of setting up club events on top of it.

Just one wedding in two weeks.

How hard can it be?

Plus, it’s a celebrity wedding. Sorta. The Broncos are superstars in this town, and everyone knows of Johnny Blazen, both on the field and off. He’s a huge playboy and his recent divorce from second wife Amber was a scandal this town will never forget.

At least until they have the new wedding to gossip about.

“Here you go, Grace,” Flora says as she hands me a thick paper file. “This is the hard copy of receipts and stuff that Linda sent. She said to tell you good luck. Apparently Mrs. Blazen is pretty difficult.”

“Oh, great.” I smile at her. “Hey, by any chance, do you know Mrs. Blazen’s first name?”

“Um…” Flora stops to think. “No, actually. I think she refers to herself that way.”

And then she’s gone and I’m alone in my office with my new assignment. I flip the folder open and find Mrs. Blazen’s number, key it into my phone, and then hit send.

“Hola,” a chirpy woman says on the other line. “Future Mrs. Blazen here.”

“Um, hi, Mrs. Blazen, this is Grace Kinsella from Big Guy Events. I’m your new—”

“Yes, Grace. We’ve met down at Little Lady Events. I’m thrilled to see you’ve been moved. I asked for you specifically a few months ago, but Leah refused to let you be my planner.”

“Oh, I had no idea. I just—”

“I have time to meet in an hour, can you come to my house in Park Hill?”

“Sure—”

“Great, see you then.”

And the call cuts off.

I just stare at my phone for a few seconds and then it rings in my hand. I press accept automatically without looking at the number. “Big Guy Events, Grace Kinsella speaking, can I help you?” Shit, I just answered my personal phone with my business greeting.

“Miss Kinsella, this Mr. Whitman at the bank.”

“Yeah?” Double shit, I bounced a check.

“I just wanted to personally let you know that your savings account conversion has been completed, and I wanted to check to make sure you didn’t need anything else before I leave for the day. My mother is not well and I’d like to—”

“Wait, what’s going on?”

“Oh, my mother, she’s a diabetic and she’s got a toe infection, so I have to go take her—”

“No, I mean…” I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that, so yes, of course you should go—”

“Great. Your new interest rate on your savings has been doubled.” He stops to chuckle. “After all, with a deposit like that, we offer special perks to our best customers.”

“Perks?”

“You have concierge service now. I’m your personal attendant and I will attend to everything you need, Miss Kinsella, but tomorrow, if that’s OK?”

“Yeah, sure, but—”

“Great, call me at this number whenever you need anything. Just not—”

“Today, yeah, I get it.”

“Thank you,” he sings back at me. And then I get the disconnect beeps again.

Jesus. Can life get any stranger? These flowers are not mine, this bank concierge is not mine, and this celebrity wedding is not… well, yeah, that one is mine. I smirk at that, but still. Weird.