Playing It Safe

CHAPTER FOUR


Standing before my full-length mirror, I take one last look at myself before heading to the Art Gallery. It’s taken me almost a whole hour just to decide on this dress. It’s a halter, fifties-pinup-style dress in a deep red, very reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe’s famous white subway dress. So the front dips down a little to show off some of the goods. My hair, which has taken me the better part of the afternoon to finish, is in waves and pinned to one side so that most of my bare back is exposed. I don’t even want to delve into why I’m all of a sudden so worried about how I look tonight. Okay, maybe I do. I’ll give you one guess. His name starts with the letter A.

No, not him. I don’t even want to discuss or think too much about him … Aiden. Because as much as I hate to admit it, the guy has been in the back of my mind since I saw him a couple of nights ago, buzzing around like an annoying fly. And what gets me even more irritated is that the more I think about Aiden, the more I come up with better things I should have said to him when I had the chance the other night. Don’t you hate that? The best one-liners always come to you after you actually need them.

Anyway, enough about Aiden since the other guy whose name starts with the letter A is the reason why it’s taken me this long to get ready.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m so busted. I must be crazy, because first of all, there’s still that whole mess Alex had with Sabrina last year, but now there’s this new thing with Marisa. But flirting is harmless, right? I mean, it’s not like anything is going to happen between us, so why not just play along and enjoy the ride? If anything, it will provide me with at least a f*ck-ton of fantasies to hold me over until I decide to get back into the saddle again. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I adjust “the boys.”

“The boys” are what I affectionately call my breasts, and I currently have them showing off some nice cleavage in this dress. Well, the right amount of cleavage and in a totally tasteful manner because I’m not trying to look like a hooker walking the streets. It’s a well-proven fact that men fall under one of two categories: tits or ass men. I felt it was time I find out which one of those two categories Alex falls into. My money is on tits, hence the cleavage.

The opening itself doesn’t start until seven, but I always arrive at an event I’m handling about an hour earlier to double-check that everything is in place. When I pull into the gallery parking lot at just past six o’clock after dealing with Miami traffic—and if you haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with Miami during rush hour, consider yourself blessed—I’m already in a bad mood.

It would be important to point out that I have not spoken to Alex since we had that super-flirtatious text exchange a couple of nights ago, so I’m not sure what to expect. We’ve flirted and had witty repartee countless times before, but I’m still not sure how what occurred the other night will affect our friendship. Plus, when you throw Miss Teen USA into the mix, well, I could be facing a clusterf*ck of epic proportions.

I walk in through the back door of the gallery and make my way toward the front of the building where most of the action is already taking place. Sidestepping some of the catering staff and some of my own, I see Lisette talking to Sarah, the gallery’s receptionist. Before I reach them, both of them look up and spot me walking in their direction. Lisette has a grin on her face as she takes in my “look” for the evening, while Sarah lets out a low whistle.


“Holy shit, Julia! You look amazing!” Sarah says loudly.

“Thank you, girlie. You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Um, no. You’re totally going to be getting digits tonight.”

I glance over at Lisette, who’s still grinning from ear to ear. “What? Why are you grinning at me like that? You’re freaking me out.”

“Ni?a, with that dress, you’re going to be finding more than Prince Charming tonight. You look fabulous!”

I roll my eyes, trying to play it off like I don’t care what they think, but let’s be honest, every woman wants to hear they look good. Especially when you’ve put half the goddamn time I did into this ensemble.

“So,” I say, changing the subject quickly and jumping into organizing mode, “how is everything coming along?”

In unison, they answer, “Good.”

I chuckle and shake my head. These two together always give me a good laugh. And when I get them both at a happy hour, I might as well be wearing adult diapers from laughing so hard. Which, by the way, I can neither confirm nor deny that that’s actually happened before.

“Good. I’m going to do a walkthrough anyway. Lisette, can you come with me?”

She grabs her iPad from Sarah’s desk, and we head off to double-and triple-check the hell out of this thing before it’s go time. About forty-five minutes later, and after being completely satisfied that things are all good, I duck toward the back of the gallery to use the ladies’ room so I can freshen up. When I’m done, I quickly sashay back to the front of the gallery, where guests are already starting to file in. Normally, I don’t drink at any of these things, but when I’m working an event at the gallery, I do imbibe on occasion because I’ve handled so many events here that it usually runs like a well-oiled machine with little to no assistance from me. I stop in front of a person from the catering staff and grab a champagne flute off the tray. I spot Lisette at the far end of the room, then lift my glass in a salute and watch her laugh before heading off to keep an eye on everything.

Turning into one of the far rooms of the gallery, which is almost like an alcove that only a few people can fit in at a time, I finally spot Alex.

Alone.

Just me and him in this tiny space.

He’s dressed impeccably, as usual, in a pinstripe suit and a light blue dress shirt that perfectly accentuates his eyes. He’s not wearing a tie again, but that’s good for me because I get to look at his throat while his Adam’s apple bobs up and down while he talks. I know I’m being ridiculous, but something as insignificant as that is so very sexy to me in a really hot guy.

“What are you doing in here all by yourself?” I ask him before bringing the glass to my lips to take another sip. “Are you hiding or something?”

He smiles and ever so smoothly brings his line of vision down my body and back up again, but not before lingering a moment too long on “the boys.”

I knew it! Alex is a tits man, and I feel so vindicated it’s not even funny. In my head I’m doing the Running Man to the tune of Salt-N-Pepa’s “Push It” and giving myself a pat on the back.

“Why would I be hiding?” he asks.

“I don’t know, why would you be hiding?”

“Why do you care if I’m hiding or not?”

“Why do you answer every question with another question?”

Alex takes a step forward, and there he goes again crowding my personal space, but I’m standing my ground this time. He raises an eyebrow at my stance and says, “Maybe I like getting you all worked up.”

The double meaning in that is so not lost on me, and just like that, we went from zero to sixty in no time at all.

“Maybe?” I ask innocently while gazing up at him.

“Now look who’s answering with questions.”

His masculine chuckle resonates through me, making my toes curl while he takes the upper hand again. I seriously cannot keep up with this much longer. I’m either going to throw him against the wall and rub myself all over him like a slutty cat on a scratching post, or I’m going to douse myself with a bucket of ice-cold water.

“For your information, I’m not hiding … at least not from you,” he explains. “Just like the quiet sometimes.”

“Huh. Always figured you for the type that was into parties and shit.”

“That would imply you’re thinking about me,” he says without missing a beat.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He takes a step forward and moves to my side to leave, but not before ducking his head closer so that I feel his warm breath fan across my ear. “That’s a good question. Are you ready for the answer?”

And then he’s gone, disappearing behind me back into the gallery’s exhibit, while I ponder what just happened, kind of pissed off that the son of a bitch just answered me with another goddamn question. Even worse though, I’m so incredibly hot for him right now over his toying with me that I don’t know what to do with myself!

Frustrated in more ways than one, I turn on my heel and blend in with the crowd that has accumulated since I’ve been competing in the Flirting Olympics with Alex. Standing off to one side while I stare out in space with my now-empty champagne flute in hand, I feel a nudge on my side and turn around to see Lisette and Sarah looking worried.

“What’s the matter?” I ask quickly.

They turn to look at each other and then back at me while they debate who is going to be the sacrificial lamb who tells me whatever the hell the problem is.

“Guys, someone speak up and soon.”

“Sarah has something to tell you,” Lisette throws out.

Sarah gives her the stink eye before turning her attention back to me. “Okay, well … see … there’s this woman who’s going off on the catering manager, saying something about this not being what she ordered for the event. He called us over and said he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with brats—his words, not mine. Anyway, he’s threatening to pull his staff if someone doesn’t get that lady away from him.”

I’m already walking with them over to the catering manager, who is stationed in the back of the building, as she’s finishing the explanation. I swing the door open to the warehouse portion of the gallery, which is where the catering staff has all of their prep stuff set up and where they replenish hors d’oeuvre and drink trays. Joey, the catering manager, who is the nicest guy, by the way, is probably freaking out over having to deal with some random woman complaining about the order. This, for the record, is news to me. Lisette and I only deal with Alex or Sarah at the gallery, so this mystery lady is about to get a f*cking earful by yours truly in about two seconds.

The mystery woman’s back is to me as she’s going off on Joey, something about how he’s inept and clueless and that she demands to speak to whomever is in charge.

I tap her on the shoulder and announce, “You’re looking for me?”

The woman swings her torso around, causing her pin-straight brown hair to whip behind her and almost slap me in the face.

You have got to be kidding me. Marisa, a.k.a. Miss Teen USA, is the bitch on wheels?

Her face goes through a myriad of looks while scrutinizing me before settling on recognition. Took her long enough to recognize me. Call me crazy, but I love a good smackdown. And a tip for all of you playing along at home: never ever let it show that they’re getting a rise out of you. The key to a good smackdown is to kill them with kindness. Unless, of course, they cross the line, and then all bets are off.


“Julia, right? What are you doing here?” she asks with obvious distaste in her voice.

I smile. “I’m the person in charge. What can I do for you?”

“You?” she says with a laugh. “Well, isn’t that just perfect.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I can assure you that I am in charge, and I ask that you please stop harassing Joey and direct all your inquiries to me instead.”

She looks between Joey and me as I give him the go-ahead to get back to work so I can deal with her. This is when I get a really good look at her. She’s beautiful, no doubt, with her almond-shaped brown eyes and lithe figure. Too bad for her she’s wearing a dress that was so last season and, worse, is coming across like a whiny baby in her mommy’s big-girl clothes for a night out on the town.

“Fine, I’ll deal with you if I have to,” she says as she rolls her eyes. “This isn’t the menu I wanted at this thing.”

“This is the menu that was provided to me and my staff,” I say, motioning behind me to Lisette and Sarah. I turn my head in their direction. “Ladies, if you don’t mind, can you please bring Alex back here to discuss this further.”

Marisa crosses her arms and sticks her foot out while pouting as we wait on Alex. Every minute I hate this girl more and more.

“You look different,” she says.

“You look the same.”

“What does that mean?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It means whatever the hell you want it to mean.”

The sound of the door swinging open smoothes the look of disdain off her face. Her mouth morphs into a syrupy sweet smile, letting me know that Alex has just arrived.

“Marisa, what are you doing back here?” he asks calmly, but he looks so incredibly annoyed at the same time.

“Alex,” she gushes as she rushes to his side. “I was just trying to explain to this person that the menu isn’t what I wanted.”

Did she just say “this person” like I’m some piece of gum on the bottom of her Jimmy Choos? Oh hell to the no! All bets are officially off!

I open my mouth to unleash the unholy string of curse words that are on the tip of my tongue, but I stop short when I see Alex giving me an apologetic look before directing his attention back to Marisa.

“I told you that I let Julia handle everything at these events because she’s the best at what she does. I would appreciate it if you would apologize to her right now so I can get back inside and deal with more pressing matters than this nonsense.”

Suck it, bitch!

She looks pained when she turns her head to me and says, “Julia, please accept my apology.”

Smiling like a Cheshire cat, I answer, “Apology accepted.”

Of course I don’t mean it, and now I know for sure I’m going to have to watch this one like a freaking hawk. All mini-drama over and done with, Alex, still looking as uncomfortable as ever, mouths an “I’m sorry” as he guides Marisa toward the door to leave. The moment he turns his head, she shoots me a look over her shoulder and then sticks her tongue out at me.

Let me repeat. Sticks. Her. Tongue. Out. At. Me.

I don’t even hesitate; I lift my hand and give her the finger with a huge smile on my face as Sarah and Lisette try to contain their giggling.

“That girl really hates you!” Lisette exclaims.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Sarah asks.

“I don’t even want to talk about it,” I mumble.

“Well, we do!” she says.

I put my hands on my hips and let out a heavy sigh. “There’s not much to tell. I met her the other night when she was Alex’s date at the Grandersons’ party. She didn’t like me then, and obviously from that whole display, she really doesn’t like me now.”

Lisette puts in her two cents. “She’s jealous of you.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I was going to say,” Sarah says.

“Jealous of what?”

They both look at each other and then back at me like I just grew two heads. I know what they’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. I feel like if someone else says it out loud, then it confirms whatever it is I’m feeling for Alex and vice versa. And maybe, just maybe, I’m not imagining that this crazy flirting between us isn’t just flirting.

“That Alex is head over heels in lust with you and you’re head over heels in lust with him,” Sarah says so quickly that it comes out sounding like one long-ass word with a few syllables thrown in there for good measure.

“You two are nuts, you know that?” I say, rushing to deflect the attention.

“Ni?a, I have been praying to Santa Bárbara for this day.” Lisette crosses herself while looking up to the heavens, but she’s really looking at a dingy ceiling.

“I know, right?” Sarah says right behind her.

Now they’re just staring and waiting for me to say something. They have another thing coming if they think I’m going to say a goddamn thing about Alex and our flirting and where it isn’t going. I only have one way out of this mess.

“Alrighty then, I’m out. I’m leaving you two in charge. If Alex asks where I am, tell him I wasn’t feeling good and went home.”

“Chickenshit!” Lisette yells to my back while I gather my belongings and start to walk out the door to my car.

Whatever. Let them think what they want. Between the two of them, I’m going to get an ulcer. Then throw in the verbal f*cking sessions with Alex, and this girl is sticking a fork in herself. I’m done.

I get home about a half hour later, and as soon as I get in the door, my cell phone rings. I answer without checking to see who it is while plopping myself down on the couch, completely exhausted and frustrated.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Then you’re not fine.”

“I’m fine, Alex.”

Silence. Utter silence from both of us. Not for nothing, but it’s an uncomfortable silence. Like shit-just-got-real-between-us kind of silence, and I don’t really know what to do with it. I hear him breathing on the phone and notice for the first time that it’s quiet wherever he is. Like he’s in his office or something.

“Where are you?” I ask in a rush of breath.

“In my office.”

“Where’s your date?”

“Why do you want to know?” he asks with a smile in his tone.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“You know what, Alex? The better question would be why are you calling me in the confines of your cozy office, all alone I might add, when you have a date?”

He chuckles, and the sound is one that I will catalog in the recesses of my mind for future reference because it sends a chill down my spine.

“That would be the better question,” he says smoothly. “Too bad you didn’t ask it.”

And he hangs up. The smug bastard just hung up on me!

I throw my cell phone onto the couch next to me and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. My phone dings, and I’m almost afraid to see what it says, but curiosity gets the better of me, and I snatch it up to see a text from Alex that brings a huge smile to my face.

You looked beautiful tonight.

Swoon.