Jobless days: 110
September Unemployment Log
Jobless days: 110 and at an end. I start Monday!
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!
—the typical job search with Leesa’s happy ending added.
Goals:
1. Land a most excellent job.
I upped EA two thousand dollars and got my three weeks of vacation along with sick leave. No signing bonus. But, hey, I did good! Especially considering I have no marketing experience and no MBA, either. Then I got to reject Hawk Engineering! Happy days are here again! Well, except on the man front. See goal two.
2. Have a hot love life, or find a perfect man and marry him in a fairy-tale wedding next June. Soul mate must: be 28-37, six feet tall or over, have dark hair, brown eyes, be smart, and handsome. He should be unattached, work hard, play well, make me laugh, and not leave me waiting for his call. He should also be logical, wealthy, creative like me, and always remember to put the toilet seat down. Also, must be faithful and committed to me. I was seriously considering signing up for an online dating service.
3. Spend an hour each day exercising in pursuit of the perfect body and health.
4. Eat at least one ounce of chocolate per day.
We met downtown at Coho’s on Pier 70. It wasn’t exactly four $$$$ cuisine, but it was right on the water. And it did have reasonable prices and excellent clam chowder, and, of course, salmon. In my defense, I didn’t get the big, fat bonus. Coho’s satisfied my budgetary requirements, meaning it didn’t break me. And the point was to be with friends, right?
Roger raised his glass of microbrew. "To Leesa and her success!"
Glasses clinked.
"Speech! Speech!" Bud said. Then Sean echoed it.
I stood at the end of the table with tears of joy in my eyes, suddenly choked up with uncharacteristic emotionalism as I surveyed my friends.
Sean sat with his arm around Julie. There was an office romance going on between those two. Barn and Cara sat as close together as humanly possible. Roger paid solicitous attention to Candy. Jean and Dan, the stealth husband I finally got to meet, sat together with the ease and comfort of an old married couple. Hank, Street Guy, Bud, and me, being single, were randomly interspersed among the couples.
"Come on! Give us a speech," Roger said.
I shook my head. "First, I have to know something—you aren’t going to kick Sean and me out of the group now that we’re gainfully employed, are you?"
"That’s not a speech," Roger said. He looked around the group. "What do you think? Keep them on as alumni? All in favor say ‘aye.’"
Lots of ayes.
"Nays?"
Silence.
"You’re an alum. Now, speak." Roger nodded.
"Okay. Sure." I took a deep breath. "I want to thank everybody for their help. Even my sister, who being a bossy big sis forced me to go to the ‘greatness’ seminar where I met Roger and Bud in the first place."
Everyone laughed.
"I couldn’t have gotten this job without all of you. Not to be sappy, but okay, I’m just overwhelmed with emotion." I took a sip of water in an effort to swallow the lump in my throat. "I can’t express, I really can’t, everything you guys mean to me. I was down and out and you came to my aid. And I’m going to return the favor. I really am. If there’s anything I can do—"
"Not too soon!" Candy held her hands up in mock self-defense. "This team is too good. We landed Lees a job in what, under a month? So don’t do me any favors right now! I still have nine months of severance left and I’m not going back to the old grind before it’s up."
"I’m mooching off Candy," Hank said. "We made a pact to take the time off together."
"I’ve still got a year and a half of nursing school and a book to finish writing first." Roger gave me a fat grin.
"No help needed. I have more gigs than I can handle," Street Guy said.
Sean raised his glass. "She already got me a job."
"And I have a sugar daddy, so I can take my time." Jean gave Dan a peck on the cheek. I had to say that Dan was a nice looking man, for a fortysomething guy. Graying in a distinguished pattern and not too much of the forty guy gut.
I looked at Barn and Bud. "I guess that means you two are our next victims." I raised my glass again. "Here’s to you all! Oh, and one last thing—since I just now got to meet Dan, I’d like to say thanks in person. And who was your contact? I’d like to send him a thank-you note." I used this tactic on purpose because Jean kept taking evasive action every time I’d asked her who I had to thank for my EA interview. So maybe being put on the spot . . .
"Sorry, kid, but I promised not to reveal my source," Dan said.
Shoot.
"Never mind. I’ll get it from you later." I sat down.
We chatted and laughed as we finished our meal.
I even ribbed Roger, leaning in and whispering to him, "I suppose your picture is at the top of the wall of fame now?"
"As high as she goes." He gave me a wink.
When everyone had pushed their plates away, I asked, "Dessert anyone?"
Head shakes all around.
"Remember, it’s on me."
Nothing, but a lot of funny looks being exchanged and a lot of clock watching. Hmmm . . . something was fishy here and it wasn’t just the chowder.
Jean, who sat opposite me facing the entrance, had been glancing at her watch every few minutes. I was about to call her on it when she held her wrist out in front of her, pointedly examining her watch. "Oh, look at the time. We should be getting home."
"It’s nine o’clock. Even old married people should be able to stay out later than that," I argued. Call it selfish, but I simply wasn’t ready for the evening to end.
"Um, Dan’s flying out of town on business tomorrow. Early. And you know with the security precautions at the airport . . ."
For the flash of an instant, Dan looked about to deny it, but Jean shot him an elbow and he prudently shut up. I frowned. What was going on here? Whatever it was, Jean had started a chain reaction.
Julie and Sean began making excuses. Candy and Roger chimed in, saying they had to take Hank and Bud home and Roger had a ton of studying to do.
Street Guy gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Always wanted to do that, Legs. Sorry to eat and run, but I’ve got a gig. Friday night’s my work night."
Cara and Barn wanted to catch a late movie.
And so there I sat. "Oh come on, people! Stay awhile longer. Have dessert, please! At least wait for me to take care of the check."
"I’m game for dessert."
I knew that voice.
I swiveled around in my chair. Ryne Garrett was right behind me, grinning and looking more delicious than chocolate in a crisp white cotton shirt and khakis. Belatedly, I smelled a setup and realized the reason for the clock watching.
Jean grabbed her sweater and purse and came round to lean in and give me a hug, whispering in my ear, "Give him a chance, Lees. You wanted Dan’s contact. You got it. It’s him. He called me and made the offer of the EA contact all on his own. Dan was just a ruse. I’ll give you the details later." Then she gave me a firm squeeze around my shoulders, took Dan’s arm, and made a quick exit as the rest of my group began fading away.
Sean leaned down on his way out to whisper, "I gifted him a certain drawing I made of you. Take advantage of it, babe."
"What drawing?" Rattled by Ryne’s presence, I couldn’t think.
Sean grinned and raised an eyebrow.
Then I remembered a particular picture that Sean had dubbed "Leesa in Ecstasy."
"Wait a minute! When did you do this gifting? How? By mail?"
"Ciao." Sean laughed and walked off with my sister on his arm.
I stared at Ryne, stunned by all the last-minute revelations. Not to mention his reappearance in my life.
"May I?" He pointed toward a chair.
"Suit yourself." Despite what he’d apparently done for me, I still hurt. And I wasn’t convinced he wasn’t a jerk.
He sat.
I played with crumbs on the table, and stared out the window at Puget Sound and a ferry making the crossing, anywhere but at Ryne, trying not to think how good he looked. Trying not to get my hopes up. Trying not to imagine what his crashing my party, with my so-called friends’ help, might mean. Silence followed. What was happening here?
A busboy began clearing the table. When he left, Ryne spoke. "I owe you an apology."
He tipped my chin up to stare me straight in the eye, which I have to admit made my heart beat off kilter. "You were right. I acted like a hypocrite when you came to me for help. But I’ve mended my selfish ways. Truce?"
I frowned. My head was spinning. "What ways, specifically, are we talking about?"
His selfish two-timing ways, or his selfish refusal-to-help-big-phony ways? I had to be clear.
"All ways, I hope." He gave me a small, apologetic smile. "I was wrong to lead you on. It’s just . . . once I met you . . . Portia." He shook his head. "Once I met you, I knew Portia wasn’t right for me. I just didn’t have the guts to act on my knowledge."
Not real clarifying. My turn to be gracious. "Jean tells me you’re my Engineering Associates contact. Thanks for referring me."
"My pleasure."
I frowned, puzzled. Completely unsure where this whole thing was headed. This time, I refused to make a stupid flirty fool out of myself. I played it straight and businesslike. "Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. But I thought you had a policy about not using your business contacts to help others? And what in the world were you thinking saying I wanted out of engineering and recommending me for marketing?"
He laughed. "One question at a time. First, I knew from the moment I met you in Starbucks that you aren’t an engineer, no matter what your degree’s in. You may be on the logical side of right-brained, but you’re a creative personality, not a logical."
I wondered for a brief second if he’d conned my personality test results out of Jean. If not, he was sharp.
"Secondly, there are exceptions to every rule. People to make exceptions for." He shot me a serious look and his voice went soft. "Sometimes it’s not just about helping enough people, but the right people. And then there was the little fact that you could blackmail me, threaten to expose my hypocrisy to the press." He flashed me a grin. He looked so sexy when he—
Stop it, Lees. I reminded myself that he was taken, by Portia no less. Still, I smiled, just a little. I couldn’t help myself. "Thank you. You got me the job."
He shook his head. "I got you the interview. You took it from there. All the praise in the world from me wouldn’t have persuaded Parker to hire you if he didn’t think you were the right person for the job."
"That’s nice of you to say."
"It’s the truth."
I felt myself thaw toward him. I’d been wrong on this point before, but was he flirting? Or was this just business now? Just him showing me that the head of the Northwest Institute was a good guy after all so I wouldn’t go around bad-mouthing it? And what about Portia?
"Parker said you really impressed him with your insights," Ryne said. He sounded genuine, like he really meant to flatter me, but . . .
I bit my lip to hold back a laugh. It came out an unattractive snort. "Insightful," I managed. "Yes, very insightful." And then the dam broke, and I started laughing outright.
"What?"
"Nothing. It’s just . . . Oh, I shouldn’t tell you this, but they were his insights. All I did was parrot them back."
"You did what?" He sounded astounded, but in an amused way.
"And imitate his body posture. There. We’re even. But I warn you, if you tell Parker, I’ll blab about the hypocrisy bit and take your institute down."
He laughed. "My lips are sealed. Using your NLP skills, were you?" He grinned and pulled Mr. Smiley from his pocket, holding it out to me. "Recognize this?"
I felt my face heat up with a blush as I reached for it. I thought I’d lost Mr. Smiley in Target. I tried to remain cool and teasing. "Treasuring a bandage I wore? Most people would have thrown this in the garbage."
He grinned again. "Yeah, well, most people wouldn’t have recognized it for a cheat sheet, either." He paused. "I’ve never met a girl who was so interested in my work that she actually studied up on it and tried to use it back on me." His lips twitched and his eyes twinkled. "Not even in grad school."
I tried not to sink into my chair, or let my face give away the fact that it hadn’t been his work I was interested in. Still wasn’t, really. "Logic and reason may not be the only things in the world that make sense," I said. "Maybe there’s a place for intuition and other things."
"Quite an admission," he said.
I shrugged. "Well, thanks again for everything. It was good of you to come and sneaky of all my friends to set me up like this."
"You wouldn’t have seen me otherwise."
"You’re right." I smiled at him and, much as I hated to, said, "It’s Friday night, date night, and everyone else has dashed off. Time for you to head out and hook up with your girl, too." I looked down at the table and toyed with the water ring my glass had made.
"Great. Then how about that dessert? I’m game if you are."
I looked up at him. "What about—"
"Portia? I thought everybody knew. Especially after Jake announced it on both Northwest PM and his morning radio show. I broke up with her."
"Oh." Big pause where I finally realized what I was supposed to say, even if I wasn’t sincere and my heart was doing flip-flops of joy. "I’m sorry."
He shrugged. "It was for the best. It’d been coming for a long time. I take it that you’re not a regular Northwest PM viewer, then?"
"Not usually, no. Only if there’s something of interest on."
He nodded and leaned in to whisper to me, so close I could smell his aftershave.
"You look beautiful tonight, Leesa. Pink suits you. Don’t ever wear purple again. And those shoes . . ." His gaze slid down my legs.
Oh, did I forget to mention it? For the occasion, I’d bought myself a skintight pink dress and a pair of killer pink heels. Little backless, strappy sandals with rhinestones, the next-best thing to the glamour girl pink slipper. A little overdressed for Coho’s? Maybe. But I had my vavavoom back! And a good thing, too!
"Now, about dessert—here or at my place?" His voice was deep and sexy and full of implications.
A dart of electric excitement flashed right through me. The pleasant kind, not the zapped-on-your-butt-by-a-short-circuit variety. But just as powerful. Was he asking what I thought he was? Just to be sure. "They have a seasonal blackberry cobbler here—"
"But do they have ice wine and privacy?"
I cocked my head and hesitated. I didn’t want her wine.
"A brand-new bottle," he said as if reading my mind. "Purchased just this morning and currently cooling in a bucket on my deck, which has a great view of the Sound and the Olympic Mountains."
I looked up at him from underneath lashes heavy with mascara. "Wine is all very good, but you can’t really dig into it with a fork, can you? Or sink your teeth into it." I shot him my sultry look. "What else are you offering?"
He put one arm around my shoulder. He covered my hand with his hand and stroked it with his thumb, sitting so close to me I heard the cotton of his shirt rustle and felt his thigh touch mine.
"I have the very finest vanilla ice cream available in Seattle, a jar of Dilettante hot fudge, and a can of whipped cream. I’d really like to talk things out and get to know you."
"Let me just grab the check," I said.
"It’s taken care of."