Cliff, the Gigify security guard, looked sharp standing next to the lobby desk in his freshly pressed uniform. The tired frown he’d been sporting for the last couple of months was gone, and he’d been watching for Izzy all morning to talk about it. He called out to her as she exited the elevator.
“Hey, Izzy, the gift certificate to the spa was perfect. My wife hasn’t been so relaxed since before the kids were born.”
Izzy was on her way to lunch but stopped to chat. “Was she surprised?”
“Heck, yeah. She thought she had forgotten our anniversary or something.” Cliff chuckled.
Izzy narrowed her eyes. “What did you say when you gave it to her?”
“Don’t worry. I took your advice.” He hitched up his holster. Gigify took security for the high-tech campus seriously. “I didn’t tell her she looked tired as hell or mention I was sick of her nagging me all the time. Instead, I just told her I appreciated all the stuff she does for the family, and I thought she might want to take a mini vacation.”
Izzy raked her hands through her short blond hair and nodded her approval. “People like to feel appreciated.”
“Well, thanks to you, I’m not sleeping on the couch anymore. It worked like magic. She’s back to her old self now. I owe you one.” He pointed his finger like a gun and clicked his tongue.
Izzy drummed her hands on the marble counter and backed toward the doors. “Remember those words when I forget my badge next time.”
He winked. “Even if you do forget it three times in one week. Again.”
“Hey! I told you, being forgetful goes hand in hand with brilliance. I read that in Psychology Today!” Izzy laughed.
One more floundering relationship fixed. Her friends didn’t call her The Love Doctor for nothing. She always had the right advice at the right time, at least for everyone else. Not so much for herself. But it didn’t matter. Love was for other people. She had enough issues to deal with without adding that sort of risk and complication to her carefully structured life. In the meantime, she silently patted herself on the back for helping Cliff see beyond his own Neanderthal nose for once. Maybe helping others with their love lives was her real calling in life. She could live vicariously through them.
She pushed open the glass doors of the building and stepped outside. California sunshine glinted off the glass façade of the four identical five-story buildings situated around the outdoor quad of the Silicon Valley tech company. Developers, program managers, and corporate honchos in their super-expensive jeans and ironic silk-screened tees moved along pathways among perfectly landscaped greenery and serene water features. Picnic tables and patio furniture, shaded by brightly colored canvas awnings, dotted the area. Subtle strips of rubber with texture designed to cause suction when pressure was applied were installed around the perimeter of the water features to prevent people distracted by handhelds from walking into them. The campus was home to Gigify, San Jose’s largest online recruitment-software development firm, where Izzy worked as senior manager of the technical documentation team.
Izzy crossed the campus and waved her employee card in front of the card reader to the creatively named North Building, entered her PIN number, looked up at the facial-recognition reader, and pressed her thumb on the fingerprint reader. “Only one shall pass, Isadora P. Treadway,” intoned a deep voice as the glass door clicked, and she pulled it open to enter the building. The approval phrase had been a fun novelty the first few times, but it got old very quickly.
Four or five people waited for their turn to perform the same sequence of events to gain entry to the Gigify commissary. It was noon straight up, and the tech masses were descending upon the sprawling space for nourishment and socialization. Indie rock strummed quietly in the background, and large television monitors played various cable programs throughout the room. She walked across the main dining room while tables started to fill with her colleagues. Thousands worked on campus, and she didn’t know everyone, but many faces were familiar. She greeted several people as she passed, stopped to talk briefly with the senior director of the application performance team, and confirmed a meeting with one of the marketing managers before she made it to the café, where a cacophony of smells inundated her.
Izzy’s stomach growled in response, and she paused near the mochi ice cream freezer, trying to choose what to have for lunch. Diversity and inclusion were primary objectives at Gigify. The International Café offered the usual grill fare, a huge salad bar, and varied entrees, with cultural delicacies from half a dozen countries. As if testing the resolve of dieters and healthy diners, there was even a wood-fired stove where one could get their own personal-sized pizza.
She was leaning toward the pizza when a familiar voice sang out behind her. “Hey, hey, hey!”
A tall, gorgeous Latino man strolled up to stand beside her.
Izzy shoulder-bumped him. “Hey, Hector! How are you?”
Hector grinned his million-dollar smile. “You know me. I’m chillin’ like a villain. Are you having mochi for lunch again?”
She scowled. “I only did that one time, and I’ve never heard the end of it. It was a bad day.”
Hector raised an eyebrow in clear disbelief, but Izzy didn’t care. He didn’t have room to judge. She had beat his time at the last San Francisco Rock ’n’ Roll half marathon by over thirty minutes, and she was a slow runner. Even if she did have mochi for lunch, she could do it without remorse.
Hector was fifteen years younger than Izzy, but she loved him like a brother. Everyone, including her, warmed to Hector’s handsome smile and stylish look. He always appeared put together, even after working an eighteen-hour day, which he often did. On more than one occasion they’d walked to the parking garage after a long day, he with the barest hint of a five o’clock shadow and his sleeves rolled up, she with her hair standing at various angles of attention and her clothes rumpled as if maybe she’d slept in them—and maybe she had, since she sometimes took a power nap on the couch near the foosball machine in the purple breakroom.
She and Hector had started at Gigify on the same day seven years earlier and had bonded during new-hire training. Although they didn’t work in the same department—Hector was a platform developer—they worked on the same floor and often sought each other out when they happened to be near one or the other’s desks. Once in a while, they had lunch together when they happened to run into each other in the commissary.
Izzy followed Hector, still unsure what she wanted to eat. When Hector stopped between the grill and the counter where a dozen prepared pizzas waited to be claimed, Izzy made her decision.
“Are you ordering to go? Or do you want to join me?” Izzy selected a tasty-looking margherita pizza.
Hector eyed her warily. “I’m craving a hamburger today. Will you be regaling me with all the details from the latest anti-meat book you’ve read? I seriously don’t need to get grossed out and not be able to finish my lunch again. It’ll force me to graze the bulk snack wall in the breakroom later. I’m doing my best to cut back on the Peanut M&M’s right now.”
“I’m off the vegetarianism.” She picked a tomato from her pizza and popped it into her mouth.
He gave his order to the woman dressed in white behind the grill. “What? I thought you were locked in.”
“I was.” She shrugged. “And then St. Patrick’s Day happened.”
“Don’t tell me. You caved to the corned beef?”
She grimaced. “Yep.”
He made a face. “Seriously? That’s a pretty huge jump. I mean, boiled meat is pretty much the bottom of the meat chain.”
This was coming from a guy who liked menudo! She knew better than to go there. “No. Haggis is. Trust me. My grandmother may be from Ireland, but my grandfather is from Scotland.”
She shivered, pushing the childhood memory of a Sunday dinner of haggis and neeps at her grandparents’ house from her mind. Neeps. Double shiver.
“I’ll trust you.” Hector laughed. “Let’s hold that thought. I’ve been thinking about this cheeseburger all morning and don’t want to ruin it with carnivore guilt. As far as I’m concerned, this cheeseburger was created as is, delicious and complete with lettuce, cheese, tomato, secret sauce, and a soft, fluffy bun. It’s always existed like this, and it’ll make my stomach so happy.”
They paid for the meals via a chip in their employee badges as they walked from the café and into the dining area. Lucky for them, they snagged a table vacated by a group of systems engineers discussing the finer points of their ongoing game of D&D.
Seated, Izzy took a bite of her pizza, expecting bitter disappointment considering Hector’s look of ecstasy when he bit into his cheeseburger. She’d never enjoyed food in any form as much as Hector enjoyed his cheeseburger. Instead, she was pleasantly pleased. She finished the first piece in four bites and picked up her second.
“So, how’s Jillian?” she asked through a bite, but covering her mouth with her hand. She wasn’t a barbarian.
Hector’s face lost all its elation. His shoulders drooped. Uh-oh. Was that a glisten in his eyes? Izzy wasn’t sure she could handle it if he started to cry.
“I wouldn’t know. She moved out.” He put down his burger.
“What? When did this happen?” Izzy kept eating. She felt bad for him, but the pizza was so good.
“A week ago.”
“I take it from the look on your face, it wasn’t your idea.”
“I didn’t have a clue.” He picked up a fry, made a face at it, and tossed it back down. The sadness in his voice pulled at her heart. “One day she was happy, and the next she wasn’t.”
“Did she tell you why?” She snatched his discarded fry and put it in her mouth.
“She said we didn’t have anything in common, and she was sick of coming second to my friends.”
“Oh.” No surprise there. Anyone paying even the slightest attention would have heard Jillian’s none-too-subtle remarks when Hector wasn’t paying enough attention to her.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Izzy concentrated on her third piece of pizza.
“I know that face,” he said, pointing. “You know something you’re not telling me.”
She blew a breath out. “Well, I guess I saw something coming.”
He crossed his arms across his massive chest. “What? And you didn’t tell me?”
He was right. She should have said something. He didn’t respond when Jillian said something, though. Why would she think he would listen to her? Besides, she hadn’t thought Jillian would break up with him. Maybe threaten to, but not actually do it. Jillian was crazy about Hector.
She put down her pizza. “Wait. Maybe I could have said something, but why would I meddle in your relationship if you didn’t ask me to? At the worst, I expected something would bubble up and you guys might have to have a serious discussion. I didn’t expect her to move out.”
Hector wadded his napkin and threw it on the table. He dropped his head and ran both hands through his hair. When he looked up, he was still perfectly groomed. How did he do that? “Well, she did. And I didn’t see anything coming at all. How did you?” He pushed his hardly touched burger and fries to the side. Izzy made a note to take some Peanut M&M’s to his desk later.
“It actually wasn’t much of a secret.” She went back to her pizza. “Anyone could see she was unhappy, especially when you were around your friends.”
“When?” His brows furrowed.
Seriously? He had no clue? She dropped the remaining crust into the box and pushed it to the side.
“Just occasionally. Look, I think she was happy with you. Most of the time.” Now wasn’t the time to be gentle. “It’s just, when you’re with your friends, you forget to pay attention to her.”
“Not true,” he said. “I pay attention to her. I’m always aware of her when she’s there.”
“You may be aware of her, but when you’re playing video games, you’re pretty single focused. Especially when you get into your multiplayer games. Nothing registers except the screen.”
“Again, not true.” He pressed his forefinger against the table. “Well, maybe sometimes when it’s intense. But you play. You know how it is. She knows how it is.”
How could he not see it? Even now, in hindsight.
“My guess is she was more into spending time with you.”
“Oh.” He dropped his hands to the table and looked into the distance as if maybe he was starting to see what Izzy was telling him.
“Do you think it’s final?” Izzy asked. She hoped not. Despite his shortcomings, Hector and Jillian were actually good together. Hector could get her back so easily if he simply pulled his head out of the sand.
“I don’t know. I hope not. I just don’t know what I can do.”
Ugh. Clueless man!
“You need to make it about her for a while. Forever, if you want it to last. Make her feel special.” Izzy couldn’t believe she had to spell it out for him. Well, actually, she could. As long as she’d known him, women had thrown themselves at him. He’d never had to try to get a date. He’d never had to try to make something work. He hadn’t built the skills. But Jillian was special. Hell, if Jillian had been into women, Izzy would have been first in line to date her—if Izzy dated, which she didn’t.
Hector squared his shoulders. Hope shone in his eyes. “I’ll do it. I’ll show her she’s the center of my universe. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I have to try. Thanks, Izzy. You always know what to do.”
A pleasant warmth filled her to know she might have helped her friend. At least he had hope. “Just saying it like it is, Hector.”
“The Love Doctor strikes again. You’re better than Dear Abby or any of those other advice people out there. You should do a podcast or something. People could call in and—”
“Hey, there, you two! How’s it hanging?” a familiar voice chimed in.
“Hey, Audie,” Izzy said as her best friend approached.
Audie’s fitted bright-yellow bowling shirt with a cat on the right breast combined with yellow and blue striped pants with the cuffs rolled up should have assaulted her eyes, but it didn’t. Audie rocked her individual style with confidence, and it worked for her. Today, a spiffy hat—the kind an old man would wear, complete with a little feather on the side—topped her spiked platinum hair. She wore dramatic makeup, which would have come off as clownish on anyone else. Izzy should have felt invisible around Audie, but Audie always made her feel like the center of attention.
Audie studied Hector. “Whoa. Should I find another table? You look like someone just took away your favorite kitten and you’re plotting revenge.”
“Izzy was just telling me how to get Jillian back.” Resolution still gleamed in his eyes.
“You guys broke up? Really?” Audie dropped into an empty seat, giving Izzy a “duh, everyone knew it was gonna happen” look.
Izzy shook her head, hoping Audie wouldn’t go there.
“Yeah,” Hector said, “but good old Iz had the perfect advice, as usual. I’ll get her back. She won’t know what hit her.”
“Truth.” Audie dropped a mailbox-shaped lunch box painted with various dog faces on the table. “I’ll bet Iz has saved more marriages than Dr. Phil.”
“Exactly what I was just telling her.” Hector stood and gathered the remains of his lunch. “Well, I have to get back. It’s merge day, and I have to work a couple bugs out of my code. The new intern still needs a little guidance on code reviews.”
“I’m surprised you even took a lunch today.” Izzy handed him the empty pizza box in response to his outstretched hand. “See ya.”
He tossed the trash, waved, and strode toward the main doors.
“The new interns are here already?” Audie asked, pulling an assortment of small containers out of her lunch box and placing them on the table. “Jesus, it feels like the last group just rolled out.”
Izzy didn’t answer. The way Audie used the interns as a frequently refreshed dating pool made her uncomfortable.
“What do you have there?” she asked. “It looks like…I don’t want to say what it looks like.” Audie’s lunches were never run-of-the-mill.
“Boiled eggplant. It’s super good for you.” Audie shook a gray, shapeless glob onto the pile of green. “You can put anything in salads.”
Izzy almost gagged. “I’ll trust you.”
“Says the woman with the metabolism of a teenage boy.” Audie tossed a lone green leaf that had fallen on the table at Izzy.
“I run.” Izzy caught the leaf and started to tear it up.
“The only time I run is if I’m chased. If they’re cute, I don’t bother to run at all.” Audie gave her a wry smile. “So, you helped Hector with the Jillian situation? God, I was wondering when he’d get a clue. That woman needs someone who will treat her like a queen.”
“Like you?” Izzy asked, knowing the answer. Audie found almost anyone attractive, male or female. She was pansexual and not terribly picky. She just loved sex, and she loved people.
Audie smirked. “You know I’d never cross the lines with a friend’s significant other. But if she wasn’t with Hector, I’d be all over her like a bee on honey.”
“I believe you.” Izzy laughed. She dropped the shredded leaf into a pile on the table.
“You are amazing, you know,” Audie said through a mouthful of salad greens, slimy eggplant, and some sort of boiled grains. No dressing. Gross. “You always have the perfect advice to help people with their love lives.”
“I just tell people what’s obvious.”
Audie pointed her fork at Izzy. “There are entire industries devoted to what you do over a tuna sandwich and SunChips.”
Izzy waved a hand, dismissing the comment. It was true, but she didn’t want anyone thinking she had a big head about it. “It’s what friends do, Audie. I listen, and I give advice. You do the same for me.”
“I try, but I don’t have your magic with it.” Audie made a face and moved the eggplant to the side. She stabbed at her salad and then waved her fork at Izzy, pieces of salad dropping to the table. “You have a talent. Admit it.”
“I like helping people. It makes me feel good.” Izzy rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed.
Audie shoveled the forkful of greens into her mouth. She made eating a salad look like work. “You should figure out a way to charge people for it.”
“Yeah, right.” Izzy stole one of Audie’s napkins and tore a strip from it.
Audie cocked one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Why? You’re providing a service.”
“I can’t charge my friends for advice. I’m not Lucy from Peanuts. The Doctor is not in. I’m a technical writer, not a therapist. They can keep their nickels.” Izzy ripped a couple more strips and added them to the pile in front of her.
“Maybe not having a degree in it is a good thing. It makes you more relatable.” Audie dropped her fork into her lunch box and grimaced. “I can’t with this salad. I think this diet only works because it’s inedible.”
Izzy laughed. “Exercise, and you wouldn’t need to diet.”
“The only exercise I enjoy is the horizontal kind.” Audie wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m serious. You need to monetize your talent.”
Izzy snorted. “You’re a riot. Who’s going to listen to me? I’m forty-seven. I’m single. I’ve always been single.”
Audie narrowed her eyes. “The best bartenders are the ones who don’t drink. Besides, not true. You were with Siobhan for over a year.”
Izzy laughed wryly. “Yes, Siobhan. My longest relationship, which only lasted a year because we lived in different countries.”
Audie whisked her hands to the side. “Okay, your own relationship status aside, you still give the best advice of anyone I’ve ever known. You need to capitalize on it.”
“What am I supposed to do, put flyers in the breakrooms with the tear-off thingies on them and wait for people to call me? No way.” Izzy wadded up the napkin strips and bounced the ratty ball in her palm. “Besides, I like my job. I don’t need another one.”
Audie smacked Izzy’s hand from below. The ball broke into smaller pieces and drifted down like confetti. “Hey, you’re a writer. People spend a shit-ton on self-help books. You can write one of those.”
“I’m not that kind of a writer,” Izzy said. “I write technical documents, user’s guides, white papers. I wouldn’t know a thing about writing a self-help book. I’m not touchy-feely like that.”
Audie took a package of Twinkies out of her lunch box, and Izzy laughed. Only Audie would have boiled eggplant and Twinkies in her lunch.
Audie’s finger shot up, and she pointed at Izzy. “Hey, how about a user’s guide?”
Izzy stopped laughing. “What? You mean like an idiot’s guide to fixing your love life or something?”
“Yeah! That’s it!” Audie dropped the Twinkies and spread her hands in the air as if reading a large marquee or billboard. “An Idiot’s Guide to Love.” She nodded knowingly. “There you go. Now you even have a title. You’re welcome. I expect to be the first person in the acknowledgments. It’s gonna be a best seller. Mark my words.”
Izzy’s stomach fell. Audie wouldn’t be happy until she had a book in her hands. How had she gotten herself involved in this harebrained idea?
* * *
Izzy sat at her desk after lunch and spun her desk chair from left to right and back again, staring at the ceiling tiles. What business did she have writing a self-help book about finding love when she hadn’t been on a date in more years than she could remember? She laughed to herself. Maybe she could write a book on how to stay out of love. At least it would be more in her bailiwick. Audie’s suggestion was hilarious. She sighed and opened her laptop. The release notes weren’t going to edit themselves.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Izzy couldn’t remember a word of the release document she had just read. The book idea kept slinking its way into her thoughts. She raised her hands over her head and stretched. An Idiot’s Guide to Love. It was a catchy title, she had to admit. Something she’d probably look at if she were browsing the aisles of a bookstore. Not to buy, of course, since she definitely wasn’t in the market, but just to skim to see what it was all about.
She opened a new document on her laptop. After a check to make sure none of her coworkers were around, she typed An Idiot’s Guide to Love in the middle of the first page. She then inserted a page break, and…nothing.
She leaned back in her chair. Cool title aside, she didn’t have to write it just because Audie suggested it. But she knew Audie. She was like a dog with a bone when she put her mind to something. She’d seen the look in her eyes, the excitement in her voice when she’d talked about it. As much as she hated to admit it, Audie’s enthusiasm was contagious, and she’d always harbored a secret desire to write a book. So, why not?
She rolled her eyes.
The subject, that was why not.
She closed her laptop. Giving advice to her friends, as good as it was, didn’t make her an expert. In fact, she was the furthest from being an expert anyone could be, an anti-expert. Love had nearly, quite literally, killed her once.
An image of her first love, Kelly, rushed to mind. Beautiful. Perfect…until Kelly had broken her heart and nearly killed her. Izzy grimaced. Since then, she’d shunned love, avoiding anything to do with dating or relationships. Siobhan had been a one-off. They hadn’t dated. They hadn’t been in love. She had almost no experience and, thus, no credibility. No one would buy a book she wrote on the subject.
She needed to stop with the negative self-talk. She heard her therapist’s voice in her head. What do we do when we recognize negative self-talk? We counter it with proof of our positives. So, hey, she wasn’t a recruiter either, but she’d written thousands of user’s guides for recruiters about how to use the Gigify software. Proof she didn’t need to do it to write about it. All she had to do was a little research.
The idea of writing the book was now a challenge she could get behind. She opened her laptop again and started taking notes.
* * *
My name is Izzy Treadway, and I’m an idiot.
An idiot at love, to be specific.
I know what you’re thinking: Why would you ever take advice from a self-proclaimed idiot?
I thought the exact same thing when my friends bullied me into writing this book. Who’s going to want to listen to someone like me? A person who’s spent her life avoiding love? The thing is—and not to be braggy—the one thing I happen to be pretty good at is giving advice that successfully leads to deep and lasting love. At least for other people. Maybe my lack of entanglement gives me an untarnished view into the hearts of others. Whatever it is, I bat nearly a thousand percent at giving advice that works. That’s the reason why I wrote this book, An Idiot’s Guide to Love. Oh, and to get my friend Audie off my back.
What are my qualifications, you may ask? Great question! But first, let me ask you this: is anyone actually qualified to give advice about love? It’s not like there’s a degree program out there to teach you the fine art of finding and keeping love. Nevertheless, I’ve helped countless people over the years. I’m not sure if it makes me qualified, but as long as someone needs advice about their love life, I’m willing to give it. I don’t claim to be an expert—thus the “Idiot” in the title—however, to my knowledge, I’ve never led anyone astray.
So, take my advice. Read this book. See how it improves your love life. What have you got to lose except loneliness and heartache?