Zach
I nearly fall off my stool turning around to scan the restaurant. It is Abby, sitting in a corner table in the shadows … with another guy.
I’m half on, half off my barstool, beer glass slack in my hand. I’m staring like a fool, giving myself away to Austin, the bartender, and everyone in Mason’s.
For the moment, I see nothing but Abby. She’s radiant. Her dark hair is pulled into a style that frames her face, her brown eyes sparkle as she leans into the guy and smiles at him. Abby’s wearing a dress of black or gray or dark blue—hard to tell in this light—topped with a thin jacket, as though she’s come directly from work. The skirt bares her legs and draws my gaze straight to them.
“Who’s that with her?” Austin’s next to me, his voice in my ear.
I shrug as though I don’t care, but I’m burning with curiosity and uneasiness. Is this her old boyfriend? The idiot she told me about and Brooke said she was done with? Or is it a new one?
“Want to leave?” Austin asks it casually, but I hear in his tone that he’s got my back. Whether I stay or go, he’ll be right beside me.
I shrug again. “Why?”
“Because the woman you slept with Saturday night is with another guy.” Austin likes stating the obvious. “Because it’s weird.”
“It’s not weird. We’re not together.” If I say it adamantly enough, I’ll believe it.
“Okay.” Austin sets his beer on the counter. “We stay. Probably you should watch the game.”
Sounds like exciting things are happening on the screen. Fans are screaming, or booing. The Suns center is setting up a free throw. He’s a great shooter, and he’ll put them ahead again.
I can’t be bothered to watch. He’ll do it with me or without me. I hear the guys at the bar shouting, Yes! and know the throw is good.
At the same time I realize Austin is right. I can’t hover on my stool and stare across the restaurant. Worried. Also drooling a little. I lift a napkin and wipe my mouth.
Abby glances up from her conversation and sees me.
I wait for her to show dismay, mortification, to turn away quickly and pretend I don’t exist.
Instead, she flashes a huge smile, one that smacks me right in my heart. She waves, says something to her date, and now she’s getting up, she’s walking over. What the hell?
Play it cool. Play it cool. Austin’s whispering the same thing, like I don’t know I should.
I drop my crumpled napkin and move to meet her. We intersect halfway between the bar and the tables, far enough from the television to cut its noise, and far enough from the tables that our conversation won’t be overheard.
Not that Abby keeps her voice down. While I desperately try to think of what to say, she cries, “Zach. How great to see you. I remembered you mentioning this place.”
It had been in both our heads, I guess. Me for a place to mope, her for somewhere to bring her next conquest.
Abby glances past me as I stand mutely. “Austin. Hey.” She waves at him. Presumably he waves back or otherwise makes a sign of greeting. I can’t turn around to check.
Abby resumes gazing at me, her smile full of warmth. “How have you been?” she asks. “You know, in the last twenty-four hours or so?”
Her teasing takes me back to our warm bed, the two of us surrounded by sheets and too many pillows while we loved each other hard.
“I’m … good. Been busy today.”
“Me too.”
More staring. My attempt at brilliant conversation peters out.
Again, Abby glances beyond me. Austin must be giving her signals, because she jumps.
“Oh, yeah. Come and meet Brent Savidge. He’s head of marketing at Global Innovations. He wanted to talk to me somewhere not near my office, and I remembered you recommending Mason’s. It’s not far from the airport, so I thought … perfect.”
Brent Savidge. What kind of name is that? Sounds like a comic book supervillain genius. One who can turn into a giant flying bug. Or a porn star.
Head of marketing. Abby works in sales and marketing. The ideas finally click in my slow brain.
“Wait, is this a job interview?”
“Yes.” Abby beams in animation that makes her eyes shine. “Well, sort of a preliminary interview. He’s a head hunter for his company, which is international.” She flashes me a card, which I assume has Brent’s name on it, but her hand is at her side the next instant. “He emailed me today and asked to meet me. Isn’t that great? I’d love to get out of the rat maze I work in.”
Abby hadn’t sounded happy with her job when she’d mentioned it. Excitement radiates from her now. I relax about her being with Brent romantically, but caution rises.
“He contacted you out of the blue?”
“Not really out of the blue. I met him at a convention last month—everyone in the business knows Brent Savidge—and hinted to him I was looking around for something better. Today he said he knows of an opening that might suit me. I couldn’t wait to talk to him, so I made an appointment with him this evening. He’s flying out tonight, so this is a good opportunity.”
She knows what she’s doing, my Abby. She nearly bounces on her toes with happiness, and it’s intoxicating.
“Awesome,” I say with enthusiasm. “Go back and talk to him. Don’t let me screw it up for you.”
Abby laughs. “You won’t. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
She grabs my hand. Whatever I feel about meeting Brent no longer matters. Abby’s hand is in mine, and that’s all that’s important.
The man stands as we reach the table. He’s tall, in a charcoal gray business suit—which screams he’s not from around here—has wavy brown hair, and a smile full of too many straight teeth. He gleams with all those teeth. His face should be on the side of a bus.
“Brent Savidge,” he says, shaking my hand heartily.
“Zach McLaughlin.”
“Zach’s one of my oldest friends,” Abby tells Brent, as though it’s true. “His family owns a renovation business, one of the top-rated in the Valley. They win awards and everything. Zach is also head of McLaughlin Charities.”
I’m dumbfounded Abby knows all this, but Brent takes on a look of professional interest. “Great to meet you. It’s hard to be a small business in a big city.”
“People like dealing with locals,” I say, giving the standard defense. “The personal touch.”
“That’s true. We’re a big corporation but we like the personal touch too.” Another brilliant smile. “Abby said you recommended this restaurant. She’s right. It’s excellent.”
“Also locally owned,” I point out.
He laughs, everyone’s friend. “Touché.”
“This is Austin, Zach’s brother,” Abby goes on, and I’m aware of a curious Austin by my side. “Also with the family business. He does PR and client leads.”
“A man after my own heart.” Brent seizes Austin’s hand and they size each other up. “Can I give you my card?”
“You can, but I’m pretty happy where I am,” Austin says. “I have my own office, can come and go as I please, swim in Mom and Dad’s pool …”
Brent laughs his professional laugh. “I’ll give you my card anyway. You never know. I can always help you all find employees.”
“True, we do need a receptionist.” Austin palms the card and slides it into his pocket. He may or may not ever do anything with it. I don’t worry. Whatever his quirks, Austin is utterly loyal to the family.
“What do you all do around here for fun?” Brent asks.
I wave at the television where the Suns have just stolen the ball and made a three-point shot. There’s a lot of cheering and beer hoisting.
“Pretty much this,” I say. “More fun when the games are at home and we’re at the arena. In the summer, we go to the lakes. In the winter, to the mountains for skiing.”
“Arizona is so outdoorsy.” Brent nods his approval. “I’m always looking for an excuse to come here. I snowboard.”
Of course he did.
“I hang out at Snowbowl all winter long,” Austin said. “Snowboarding can be great up there.”
I sense kindred spirits about to bond. I glance at Abby, not wanting to steal her job interview. “Get you another drink?” I offer to Brent.
He perks up, ready to accept, but he glances at his watch.
“Wish I could. Flying out at nine, so better get going. Abby, it was wonderful to talk to you.” Brent shakes her hand, holding it a little longer than I like, but he’s trying to be sincere. “I’ll call you Wednesday. What time is good for you?”
“After work,” Abby says. “If my boss knew I was talking to you, he’d fire me on the spot.”
Brent looks disgusted. “If he was smart, he’d offer you a raise. There’s a reason your company bleeds decent people. He should fight to keep you.”
“Well aren’t you a lovely man?” Abby says with a smile. “I look forward to talking to you Wednesday.”
Brent finally releases Abby’s hand. “Let me call a ride, and I’ll be out of here. Nice to meet you Zach. Austin.”
“I can drive you,” Austin offers. “It’s not far out of my way.”
He’s fibbing—Austin lives north of here, and the airport is south, but he’s probably dying to talk more about snowboarding. We brothers are a disappointment to him in that area.
“Thanks. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” Austin waves him to the door. Austin gives Abby a long look, a very long look, before he walks away with Brent.
Brent might be effusive with his good-byes, but he also knows when to cut them off. He lets Austin precede him out, then waves farewell, like a royal prince taking his leave.
Abby and I are on our own, standing next to the table. Staring at each other some more.
Abby
Zach, the man I’ve been daydreaming about nonstop since Sunday morning, is in front of me. I was thinking about him during my drive over, during my discussion with Brent, even during my visions of an office of my own and a secretary to help me.
I brought Brent to this restaurant not only because it was convenient for him and far from where I work, but the back of my mind told me there’d be an off chance Zach would be here. Why he would be, on a random Monday night, I didn’t know, but it was a possibility.
We keep standing. People are staring at us, probably wanting us to sit down and stop blocking the television.
“So,” Zach says. “Brent’s a slick talker.”
I nod nervously. “Yes. I know. But he’s truly good, and he has the power to bring people and great jobs at his company together. I might even have my own window.”
I clasp my hands and flutter my eyelashes. Zach dissolves into laughter and waves me to my chair. “Hey, gotta love a guy who can get you that.”
We sit, gingerly. I’m on the edge of my seat as though I’ll tackle Zach if he tries to run out the door.
“Do you have your own office window, Zach?” I continue playing the enchanted ninny.
“I do. With a view of the parking lot. Very exciting. Gets a little hot on a summer’s day.”
“I’ll bet.” I drop the pose and lift my half-drunk glass of wine. “But at least you can see sunshine. The sky. Cars going in and out. People. I’m in the middle of the building. I mean the exact middle. If I want to see outside, I have to take a longer than usual break and hike about half a mile.”
“That’s why you’re jumping on Brent’s offer.”
“He hasn’t offered anything,” I say quickly. “Are you hungry? I guess I’m interrupting your dinner.”
Brent had ordered starters, which he’d downed most of, because I was too keyed up to eat. Zach took in the plates and my unused silverware and signaled a waitress.
“Hey, Zach,” the waitress says as she stops at our table. “Welcome back.” She casts me a glance of unbridled curiosity, and I can’t stop my blush. “Your usual?” She starts jotting a note even before Zach answers in the affirmative. “And for you?” she asks me.
Her smile is friendly. And again curious.
I order a chicken dish that looks nice. “Thanks,” I say. Why not a salad? Because 1) I’m not a rabbit, and 2) it’s very hard to daintily eat a salad in front of someone you want to impress. Stuffing recalcitrant lettuce into the corners of your mouth and chewing like a cow is not attractive.
“He hasn’t offered,” I repeat as the waitress strides to the kitchen. “Like I said, this was a preliminary interview. He’s been talking to several people while he’s in Phoenix.”
Zach takes a casual sip of his beer. “You’d be leaving town if you accept?”
Is he worried? Or only interested, as a friend?
A friend who ran those big, warm hands along my waist, cradled the weight of my breasts …
I clear my throat. “No, they have offices all over. There’s one in the Scottsdale Airpark. Most likely, I’d go there.”
“That wouldn’t suck.”
“No, it would be great.”
“We do a lot of business in Scottsdale,” Zach says.
He leaves it there. No maybe we could meet for lunch one day. Or after work for a drink. He says nothing at all.
I can’t think of a way to suggest a meet-up, so I ask him about his day. I don’t want to talk about mine, which sucked until I came here. I listen, interested, as Zach describes the house their charity is renovating for a family. Zach is enthusiastic, and I warm. He has a good heart.
The food comes and we mutually decide, without words, to enjoy the meal. It’s very, very good, which is why this restaurant, in an out-of-the-way strip mall, is full on a Monday night.
We linger over coffee. We don’t mention the wedding, what happened Saturday night, or when, if ever, we’ll get together again. We talk about what we like to do—he loves basketball, when it isn’t football season, though he hasn’t looked at the game on TV since we sat down. He and his brothers shoot hoops for fun on a Sunday at his folks’ house. The family has a boat they take to Lake Pleasant in the summer, and he waterskis and jet-skis.
I don’t do any of this. I work. In the summer I work, and I swim in my mom’s pool. He says waterskiing is great—maybe I’d like to join them one time this summer?
Summer is a few months away—official summer, I mean. It will be in the 100s here soon. I noncommittally say it sounds like fun.
The waitress brings over the check. Looks a question, and Zach reaches for it.
“On me,” he says. When I protest, he says, “To celebrate you maybe getting a window.”
It’s nice of him. I say so, and he waves it off. We dance around it, both of us doing anything to make sure this is not a date.
Once the bill is paid, Zach stands up with me. Then his face falls. “Crap. The only way Austin drove Brent to the airport is in my truck.”
I blink in surprise. “I never saw you give him the keys.”
“We all have keys to each other’s cars. In case.” Zach scans the restaurant. “I don’t notice him coming back for me, the shit. I’ll call him. Or Ben, if Austin can’t be bothered.”
He slides out his phone but I put my hand on his wrist.
“It’s no problem.” I try to stop my voice from shaking. “I don’t mind running you home.”