9. Chapter Eight London
Chapter Eight: London
I t’s Monday, so of course I woke up late after my alarm didn’t go off and the French press at work is broken.
Instead of making my usual black coffee, I use the Keurig to make a cup of pu’erh tea from the stash in my desk drawer.
I take a tentative sip. Fortunately, the water doesn’t taste too strongly of coffee, since most people at work are coffee snobs and usually bring their own drinks.
As I pick up the mug to return to my desk, Reggie corners me in the break room.
I say ‘corners’ because despite being in his sixties, Reggie is physically intimidating. He’s tall and ruddy, built like a pro wrestler, and covered in mysterious tattoos. We also have no idea what his job was before he started here as an IT guy five years ago.
“Hey, London!” He claps me heartily on the back, fortunately after I put my mug down. “It’s good to see you this fine Monday morning.”
“And you, too, Reggie.” I take another sip of tea. “How was your weekend?”
He looks like he spends weekends working as a bruiser for local organized crime groups, which is why his answers are always so hilarious. “About as relaxing as it could be. I went to church with the missus, then had to get my blood drawn for some silly test my doctor’s running on me. ”
He makes a face at the mention of getting his blood drawn. Then he leans forward and adds, “Just between you and me, I hate needles.”
I glance at his tattoos. “You don’t say.”
“The tats don’t count. I got them all when I was drunk.”
My eyebrows rise. “You got all your tattoos in one session when you were drunk?”
“No, I just always had to be three sheets to the wind to get them. Oh, hey, Giorgio!” Reggie waves at our coworker, who enters the break room.
“We’re out of coffee,” I say in lieu of a greeting.
“Dreadful news. Morning, Reggie.” Giorgio frowns. “What are you drinking?”
“Tea.” I extend it to him and he sniffs it.
“Hmm. That smells like the terrible stuff Kostas always drinks.” He pulls out a Keurig pod instead. “Did you hear about that position for senior associate opening up?”
“Yeah, Gloria mentioned it to me,” I say.
“Are you going to apply for it?” Giorgio asks, arching an eyebrow.
I shrug. “I’m happy where I am.”
I wouldn’t mind a promotion, but that would mean more work in addition to a higher salary. And frankly, I have enough on my plate without the added responsibilities of being a senior associate.
The conversation changes to what Giorgio did over the weekend. “So there I was at the mini golf course, on a date with the hottest woman you’ve ever seen—“
I nudge Reggie. “Doubtful.”
He snickers. “The hottest woman a blind man’s ever seen.”
“And then, she took a swing and her club hit me in the stomach.”
“Did she apologize?” I ask. Giorgio always has the worst date stories. I have no idea how he gets so many women to go out with him .
“I think she was going to, but I didn’t hear it.”
“Too busy screaming in pain?” Reggie asks, nodding like he knows exactly how it feels to be hit in the stomach with a golf club.
“No, I couldn’t hear it over her yelling when a wasp flew down her top.”
I bust out laughing at the mental image. “Giorgio, how do you manage to get so many women to go out with you when you have such horrific stories of your time with them?”
“Oh, it’s not over yet. She was running around, trying to get the wasp out of her bra, so I pushed her into the pond.”
“You what ?“ Reggie and I exclaim at the same time.
“Yeah, I figured in the movies, the actor always dives into the lake to avoid the bees chasing him, so I thought it would work for her.”
“You didn’t think she would be a little mad? Or that she might hit her head and drown?”
“She was fine. Really fine.” Giorgio smirks. “If you know what I mean. Especially when she was soaking wet.”
I shake my head. “There’s no second date, is there?”
“No, but that’s because she’s terrified of how strongly she’s attracted to me and worries that if we go on a second date, she’ll end up mauling me.
” Giorgio gives a confident nod. He’s certifiably delusional.
“At least, once she calmed down from cursing at me and saying she hopes I never sire children.”
“Oh, she’ll maul you, alright,” Reggie mutters. I chuckle.
“So, that was my exciting weekend. What did you do with yours?” Giorgio looks expectantly from me to Reggie.
Reggie repeats his weekend activities. I tell them about my horseback riding experience with my nieces.
“Babysitting, huh?” Giorgio arches an eyebrow at me. “Are you practicing for when you have kids of your own? ”
I try to dodge the question, since I’ve never told them I don’t want to have kids. In fact, Gloria is the only person who knows that aside from my brother Troy.
“I’d have to find a woman who wants to date me first,” I say.
Giorgio perks up. I swear, he’s like a bloodhound when it comes to the topic of dating. I have a feeling it has to do with his hand in pairing up his cousin, Prince Kostas, and his wife, Raina. Deep down, he’s a mushy romantic. On the surface, he believes he’s a matchmaking genius.
“You know, I’m always here to help with any matchmaking you need. I did find a wife for my cousin,” he says as he waggles his eyebrows.
“Telling him to get married to the first woman he saw doesn’t strike me as sound matchmaking advice,” I retort.
Giorgio and I start squabbling about what counts as matchmaking success.
Reggie just shakes his head and goes back to work, reminding me that I should also get back to work, since I have a case to figure out.
A company was withholding bonuses to their employees but accruing them so they could deduct them from their income and pay fewer taxes.
“I’m not going to take matchmaking advice from a man who comes to work and tells us a fresh dating horror story every weekend.” I roll my eyes and walk back to my desk, my tea now lukewarm.
“Okay, but you’ll regret it when you’re sad and lonely this weekend!” Giorgio calls out, loud enough for the whole office to hear.
Rolling my eyes, I sit down at my desk and open up my computer. By noon, once I’ve finished drafting several legal documents and have called two clients, I see him again in the break room, eating a Greek salad with chicken.
“Have you considered my matchmaking services?” He arches an eyebrow at me. He looks like a mischievous elf, sans the pointy ears.
“I haven’t considered your so-called matchmaking services.”
“Too bad. I think you and Gloria would make a great couple. ”
I pause in my tracks as I walk toward the Keurig to make myself a second cup of tea.
“Ha! I knew that would get your attention.”
Darn. I should’ve known better than to show him he affects me. I say nothing, hoping he gets bored and goes away. I enjoy working with Giorgio, but when it comes to my personal life, he can be exhausting.
“You two have been friends for years. Are you really telling me you never hooked up? No accidental drunken kiss at a house party?”
“I think you’ve been watching too many CW shows if you think that’s what our lives are like.”
“Tell me: Have you ever thought about Gloria Romero as more than a friend?”
Of course I have. Lately, I haven’t stopped.
Gloria walks in holding her lunch bag. “What’s up, guys?”
“Gloria! We were just talking about you,” Giorgio says. Because he’s a sadist who loves watching his friends suffer.
“About how I’m going to get the senior associate promotion and beat you two?” she asks, leaning against the sofa in the break room without sitting down.
As she passes me, I catch a whiff of her perfume—oranges and cinnamon.
“Please, discussing work at work? That’s ridiculous.” Giorgio waves a hand. I stand by the Keurig mutely, hoping Gloria didn’t hear what we were talking about. “I was asking London here—“
“If I could give you twenty dollars to go buy lunch.” I pull out my wallet before he can continue speaking. “Here you go, man.”
Giorgio and Gloria both glance at his Greek salad and then back at me like I’m crazy .
“I mean, five dollars to buy coffee. Since the French press is broken.” I fish out a five dollar bill and wave it in the air like it will entice Giorgio to shut up and leave the room.
“Oh. Right.” Giorgio thankfully takes the hint—and the five dollar bill—and gives me a look of utter disapproval as he exits the break room with his salad.
Gloria furrows her brows at me. “Was that weird?”
“Weird? No. That wasn’t weird. You made that weird.” God, if you’re listening, this would be a great time for one of those notorious California earthquakes to appear and swallow me in a sinkhole. Also, how many times can I say the word ‘weird’ until it sounds weird?
She suppresses a grin as finally takes a seat and unpacks her lunch, a delicious-smelling Thermos that looks way better than the deli-meat-and-soggy-lettuce sandwich I stashed it in the fridge.
“ I made that weird? You threw money at Giorgio like he was a stripper and shooed him out of the room with crazy eyes.”
I frown. “First of all, he took the bill from me. I didn’t throw it at him like he was a stripper.” I shudder in horror. “Second of all, Giorgio left willingly to go buy coffee.”
“Whatever you say, Leeds.” She gives me a grin as she eats a spoonful of her food. “I guess you guys were having private ‘guy talk’ that you didn’t want me to know about?”
I take a huge bite of my sandwich so I don’t have to respond. “Mm-hmm.”
Gloria speaks. “I’ll let you keep your secrets.”
Finally swallowing the food with the help of a swig of tea, I manage to say, “Thanks.”
But what I really want to say is, No! I’m a wide-open book of secrets, ready for you to read all of the pages! Especially the one about my feelings for you !
I must be losing my mind. Maybe there were mold spores on the bread that are making me hallucinate. That has to be the only explanation for my crazy thoughts.
“I’m going on a date tonight,” Gloria says. Now I really wish I was hallucinating due to moldy bread.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” I try to keep my tone neutral. Fortunately, the look of disgust on my face can be attributed to my sandwich. I hope.
“His name is Lindon, he’s an architect, and—“
“Lindon?” I repeat. “What kind of name is Lindon ?”
Lindon is just one letter off from London.
Which is a ridiculous thought, but I hate the idea of her ending up with some jerk named Lindon and him slowly overshadowing my place in her life.
His name being so close to mine makes me wonder if it’s a sign that I’ll be replaced.
That Gloria and I will drift apart as she builds her own life and family.
“Paulo asked me the same question.”
“Well, great minds think alike.”
Gloria dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to act like my older brother and go all overprotective on me. I already have one brother. I can’t handle another.”
“I have no interest in treating you like a sister.” Or in you seeing me as a brother. I wouldn’t want any guy to be thinking about my sister the way I’ve thought about Gloria. “Don’t worry.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “So you’re not going to stalk me and Lindon on our date?”
“I mean, if Paulo asks me to…” I let my voice trail off purposely. I would never interfere with her date, but it’s amusing to let her think so.
As expected, she puts down her spoon and sets her hands on her hips, reminding me of an adorable teacup-sized dog pretending they can face off with a pit bull. It doesn’t help that she’s shorter than me by eight inches, a gap only slightly mitigated by her heels when we’re standing. “You wouldn’t!”
“No. But it was cute watching you get all riled up.” The words fall from my lips before I can stop them or think better of them. Shoot.
“Cute?” Her lips spread into a sly smile. “You think I’m cute ?”
“Sure. Like a puppy pretending they can catch a squirrel. Cute.”
Is it just me, or do her shoulders slump in disappointment when I say that?
“Just what every woman wants to hear,” she deadpans.
“From her friend , yes, I would think so.“ I emphasize the word ‘friends’ despite the ache in my chest that comes from saying we’re only that.
“Right.” She folds her arms across her chest.
“Where is Lindon taking you?”
“Some fancy restaurant.”
“Is it a French place?” I tease. Gloria and French have a love-hate relationship. She once mispronounced Bordeaux as Bored-ox in a presentation, and all our classmates laughed at her.
She scowls at me. “I don’t think so.”
“Is he picking you up?” I ask.
Gloria gives me the eye-roll to end all eye-rolls. “I’m not stupid. I’m meeting him in a public location.”
“Well, have fun,” I say, unsure of what else I can ask without seeming overprotective. Or worse, jealous and possessive. “Text me if he turns out to be a loser and you need an emergency reason to escape, okay?”
“I will.” A smile softens her face. “Thanks for being there for me, London.”
I want to be there for her in so many other ways. But I can’t tell her that.