Love.com (7 page)

She knew from Evan
, that unlike most men in his position, Ian didn’t throw money around to impress anyone. He didn’t have to. He charmed people with his direct, honest stare.

He
made six figures, but earned it by being at Ambidor’s whims when it came to putting out fires around the world. He was much more than a mere rep, Evan confided to her recently. Ian was more like a consultant to the huge pharmaceutical group. She was impressed by the fact he was self-made. He survived by his wits, his success evident.

Evan said
Ian could swing a golf club as good as any pro and never ran out of interesting conversations. He was disarming and witty; funny and down to earth. Evan said Ian had ‘game’; whatever that meant.

Emily
liked to think he was worth all the time she spent pining over him, thinking he had to be perfect to command such steady interest from all women. The women in her office were ridiculous in their attempts to get his attention. Ian was merely polite to them, and gently refused to meet them for a drink after work. She knew from Evan, Ian had a clause in his contract with Ambidor; restricting him from fraternizing with employees of any agency that represented them.

It seemed unfair in her opinion, but it explained his obvious restraint in taking any of the women in the office up on their offers.
Realizing he could lose his job if he gave into such temptation, made her understand why he avoided social situations while here in Sacramento.

Evan and
Ian were friendly outside of work, but even Evan didn’t know a thing about Ian’s personal life; if he was seeing someone while in Sacramento. Evan assured her a guy like Ian had a woman in every city, chuckling appreciatively in admiration.

It cut Emily to the quick to think of him as some
sleazy womanizer.
Her Ian
, as she’d begun to think of him, would never treat a woman so callously.
Her Ian
was the epitome of male perfection, good and kind. The man was growing to sainthood in her mind. He could do nothing wrong. These thoughts were dangerous and distorted. She was referring to men, for God’s sake! When did one ever achieve such an exalted status?

Her father left her mother
when she was four; leaving his wife and two daughters for his secretary. While Emily had grown to like Martha over the years; his current wife, she never forgave her father for leaving them. They had never been close. Marrying Eddie was her way of smiting her snobbish father, who was a high-paid attorney for an investment firm back in Connecticut.

Her older sister, Kathy, stayed
on in Greenwich, Connecticut; married her high school sweetheart, and had a whole passel of kids. Kathy was content with her life, towing the line between their neurotic mother and austere, distant father.

Leila Jones,
their embittered mother, was still very much living in the past. Leila never got over her husband leaving her for his secretary. Her mother never failed to induce negativity into their phone conversations. Emily knew if she wanted to wallow in her own misery; she need only pick up the phone. Leila knew exactly what to say to make her feel worse. Leila would mock her feelings for Ian Sawyer; tell her to give it up. She would also say all men were pigs, her favorite saying, and get into a rant on their basest instincts. Yes, Leila wouldn’t be hearing from her anytime soon. She didn’t need to hear the truth.

Once home, Emily turned on the computer
; not surprised when she went to her profile page on Love.com to see she had no messages. She felt absurd to expect a stampede of emails since joining the dating site. Still, she was sore with raw, bruised feminine pride to see her mailbox was once more empty.

She glared at the screen, determined to arouse somebody’s interest
; anybody’s at that moment. The one hundred and eighty-six dollars she paid to join the site reminded her of her present dilemma. The light bill was due, the water bill, and she didn’t get paid for another week.

She was determined to put her profile into a more positive light.
Just a few changes were needed. Emily pulled her current profile photo from the site, agreeing to herself it was much too lame. She needed something to grab at men’s attention. She chewed her lower lip, unsure if she dare do what she was contemplating.

An hour later
; Emily stared at the false picture in satisfaction. After combing the Victoria’s Secret website, she cropped an image of a model sure to make men drool. The fact it wasn’t her wouldn’t be lost on any of her dates the moment they met her, but she craved attention. She would definitely have plenty of mail come tomorrow. Maybe that was enough?

Pushing away the voice
s of caution that warned she was being dishonest, Emily uploaded the image as her profile picture. What could it hurt? She was positive everyone did this to make them look better. Sure, she wasn’t a Victoria Secret model. Everybody did it, she was sure. There was nothing wrong with stretching the truth a bit. She warmed to her new persona; even exaggerated about herself in her biography.

Emily wasn’t merely an account representative at Stone and
Watterman anymore. She was a full partner. She giggled as she went on to increase her potential by replacing her alma mater, listed as UCLA, with an Ivy League school back east. She was a Harvard grad who claimed time spent in The Peace Corps. She added she was on a first name basis with several well-known celebrities.

Emily got so caught up in the drama
; she forgot the time. She cursed to see it was nearly eleven o’clock before she finished her new profile on the dating site. She was going to be tired come morning. It would be worth it when she arrived home with a mailbox jammed full of messages from men who would see the new her. She trudged off to bed. Her last thought was of Ian before her eyes closed, feeling the hopelessness the crush induced as never before. In her dreams, Ian appealed to her every need.

When the alarm went off at six A.M., Emily groaned in protest, rolling over and hitting the snooze without thinking. Twice she thumped the button before her conscious mind reminded her of the meeting th
at morning. She bounded out of bed; swearing to see she had less than thirty minutes to get ready for work.

Emily
was dressed in a smart black suit and glaring at her hair. Yes, the promised make-over Joan insisted upon couldn’t come at a better time. She combed her hair into a neat bun and whipped on a glaze of mascara, howling when she stabbed herself in the eye with the wand.

Emily
could hardly see out of her watering eye as she made her way to the kitchen, her stomach growling as she saw the bag of fresh bagels on the counter. She glared at them and grabbed the bag. She tossed them into the trash container. She grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter near her. She munched on the apple as she hefted her briefcase and coffee cup to the garage. The door wasn’t automatic. She had to put everything down to open it. Eddie talked about getting an automatic garage door opener too.
What was your hurry, Eddie?
She was muttering under her breath when she realized she had company.

A tall
, dark-haired man in a Minnesota Twins tee-shirt and plaid sleep pants was walking barefoot up the driveway towards her. It was Jay Wilson, her neighbor from across the street. His wife left him the year before when his trading card business went under.

Jenna Wilson moved back in with her parents across town. Jay got the house, the dog, and all the bills their ten
-year marriage incurred. They had two kids, a boy and a girl. The divorce was a shock to the whole neighborhood. The Wilsons appeared happy. The arrival of the U-haul the previous spring said otherwise.

Jay was
good friends with Eddie up until Jenna left him. He’d not been over since. He refrained from attending the funeral, citing illness, and sent a card. What brought him over this morning? Emily glanced at her watch in annoyance. She hefted up the garage door, estimating she had less than ten minutes or be late for work.

“
Hiya, Em,” Jay said and looked apologetic. “I thought we might have a cup of coffee sometime.”

“I’m
really late, Jay. I can’t do it this morning.” Emily shielded her gaze in the morning sun, hardly looking at the man. “Maybe some other time?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t go to the funeral, Emily.”

She realized he thought she was mad at him for that slight. She quickly disabused him of that. He had his own share of grief the last year. “No, it’s ok. A lot of people couldn’t make it. Don’t worry about it.”

Jay stepped closer
. She could tell he’d been up all night drinking again. The faint, stale smell of beer and cigarettes lingered on him. She wanted to tell him to go home and shower, disgusted to see he had no clue how messed up he appeared.

“I’m sorry about Eddie.
I’m sorry about a lot of things, Emily.”

This wasn’t the time or the place
, Emily thought, wanting to ditch Jay and this pointless conversation. She was going to be late while her party animal neighbor monopolized her in her driveway. “Thank you, Jay, but I’m running late. We can have that cup of coffee some other time.”

“I
noticed you went back to work.” Jay rubbed his dark stubble-covered chin. “Must have been hard, I bet.”

“Yeah, it’s been difficult
.” Emily glared at the tips of her new black pumps, wishing Jay and his hangover would leave.

“I meant to come over sooner,” Jay mumbled and looked away from her. “I should have come over sooner. Don’t think I’m a piece of shit, Emily. Eddie was my
best friend.”

The emphasis on
was
didn’t escape her. She wondered why the pair stopped hanging out before Eddie’s diagnosis. Eddie said Jay was going through a personal thing over his business going under and his wife leaving him. Eddie was vague in his explanation of why his closest buddy became so distant. She was suddenly curious about the rift between them.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I understand
.” Emily felt mean for trying to blow the guy off. It was obvious Jay lost just as much as her this last year. “Why did you and Eddie stop talking? You guys used to be so tight.”

Jay went rigid
. His fists clenched slightly. He gazed back at his house. He looked like he wanted to say one thing; when he looked back at her, and said another. “It was a stupid disagreement over a football pool... just dumb shit. Don’t worry about it.”

Emily knew Jay was lying, could see it in the way he refused to look her in the eye
s. She shrugged. Maybe she was reading too much into it? Still, the guy looked in no hurry to leave. She tapped her foot, irritated he still stood there.

“I’d like to finish this conversation, Jay
, but I have to get to work.”

Jay looked like he suddenly realized he was keeping her from leaving. He smiled apologetically. “Yeah, we can have that cup of coffee another time, Emily. Sorry to hold
ya up.”

“No problem
.” Emily watched as Jay turned and walked back home. She picked up her coffee cup and briefcase and fumbled with her keys.

The five year-old
light blue Nissan Sentra was the best investment she ever made. Affordable maintenance and good on gas; she never had any issues with it. When she turned the key, it started right up. She had to agree her car was the most reliable thing in her life.
Too bad cars weren’t people
, she thought in despair. She backed out of the garage and got out to close the door, fuming with those few extra steps.

Emily drove the seven mile distance to the downtown parking garage; glad to see she was ten minutes earl
y given light traffic. She got out of her car. She paused to see Ian the Unattainable in all his glory. He was wearing running shorts and a tee-shirt, getting out of a shiny, silver Porsche across the lot.

Her breath held as she traced those long muscular legs as he walked to the elevator, ducking behind her car door so he wouldn’t see her
there, sighing at the sight of him that morning. Emily couldn’t bring herself to join him, just wanted to spy on him, and feel every bit of angst she couldn’t strut confidently up to the elevator to join him.

Emily stood up straight after the doors shut. She walked to the elevator and cursed her innate shyness. Why was it that she couldn’t stand to be near him and couldn’t stand to be away
from him? What was the man doing to her? The dreams she had of him the night before made her want to go to the nearest confessional booth and throw herself on a priest’s mercy.

Would
Ian see it in her flushed face she was completely, crazily, totally gaga over him? The thought he would laugh at her made her stiffen in dread. She spent those few minutes waiting for the elevator imagining amusing dialogue they might have shared on the ride up until she caught herself, knowing she was insane for creating these bizarre scenarios in her head. It wasn’t real, she reminded herself, but couldn’t help but lapse back into another random conversation with the object of her desires.

These
interactions were flirty, highly-sexual, and always ended with him tossing her upon any available surface and having his way with her. She felt disgusted with herself for continuing this absurd, daily ritual.