The morning after the fundraiser is clear and warm, so I decide to walk to the Coalition office on the other side of town. Settled into a wooded area near the Roaring Fork River, the building overlooks the rambling gardens and boulders of the John Denver memorial garden. I’ve never been a huge fan of his music, but I’ll happily sit in the park named after him.
Waiting at a traffic light, I pull out my phone and check text messages. I have two from Sage, one asking if I want to meet for lunch at the vegan place she loves. And one that is only a pic of the tops of boobs in her yoga tank. Something tells me the second text isn’t intended for me. I hit reply and snap a pic of my own cleavage to return the favor.
Immediately, she responds with the horrified emoji scream face and then two apples and heart eyes. Laughing at her message, I add a bikini and flames to my response. We could communicate only in emojis all day, every day, and never stop being amused.
Crossing the street, I wonder if there will be a return to hieroglyphics instead of bothering to type words.
My phone pings with a new text. It’s Landon.
Yes, I saved him into my contacts and that’s as far as our commitment is going.
I open his text and read it.
*Great to see you last night. You looked beautiful.*
His words catch me off guard and I trip, but stop myself before I face-plant.
His words are polite, respectable, and flattering in an appropriate way.
Bouncing dots appear on the left side of the screen, indicating he’s still typing. I wait for a comment about my boobs or ass. This is Landon, after all.
*I apologize if any of my comments came off as rude. Working on my brain to mouth filter.*
A compliment and an apology is a whole new level of weird coming from the king of inappropriate.
*Thanks.* I use the whole word to be more formal. I’m about to type “new phone, who dis” when another text appears.
*It’s Landon, btw. In case you didn’t save my number. You should do that to avoid confusion.*
Now he’s a mind reader, too?
Someone jostles my shoulder and I realize I’m frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, staring down at my phone.
“Sorry,” I apologize to no one. Glancing up, I get my bearings, suddenly feeling like I’ve stepped through a wormhole into another dimension. The Hotel Jerome’s brick façade anchors the block ahead of me. Is nine-thirty too early for an adult beverage when not on vacation? Asking for a friend.
Probably not my best idea to show up to my volunteer job with mimosa or Bloody Mary breath. Not if I want to eventually get a paid position at a local non-profit if I stay in the area.
*I know it’s you.* Afraid he’ll read too much into it, I hate admitting I’ve already saved his number.
*What are you doing up so early?*
What does he think I do when I’m not working? Loaf around? Work on my tan at the pool? Sleep ’til noon?
*On my way to work.*
*At the La Belle Femme?*
*At Coalition. Are you surprised I’m one of those good doers and not just a pretty face?*
He responds instantly. *Never thought you were just one thing. Doesn’t surprise me you’re both beautiful and passionate.*
I wait for the sex joke. When it doesn’t come, I try to think of something snarky to bite back with, but I’m thrown off by his nice compliments. Could it be possible I saved the wrong number as Landon?
*I wish we had more time to talk last night. What are you doing this weekend?*
*Bridezilla festivities.*
*All weekend?* He adds a sad face to his message.
*Pretty much.*
*Too bad.*
*Why?*
*I want to catch up with you. Hear more about your work.*
Never once has Landon asked me about anything of substance. He said he’d try, and maybe this is him putting in effort not to be a human crotch rocket—fast and flashy.
I side-eye my screen. *Why are you being so nice?*
*Do I need a reason? Fine. It’s Monday. The sun’s out. I’m only pointing out the truth.*
*Prove you’re Landon. Show me proof.* He might be charming, but I’m not going to let my guard down around him.
Wait, that didn’t come out right. He isn’t going to send me a dick pic, is he?
I quickly close the text window out of fear. Another notification appears on my home screen and I peer at it with one eye closed in case it contains a tiny thumbnail of Landon’s dick. Relief floods my chest when I only see emojis.
Opening Sage’s response, I laugh at her invitation to tacos and margaritas with a thumb’s down on eggplant, aka penises. Tomorrow is Taco Tuesday and she’s crazy if she thinks I’m going to miss our weekly girls’ night. With everyone mated off, taco night is sacred friendship time. This week we seriously need to debrief about the charity event, Aiden’s reappearance, and what I’m going to do about my crazy family wedding.
Landon sends another text and I swipe up to ignore the notification.
Scrolling through emojis, I click on the taco, thumb’s up, lipstick, the eggplant, and the see no evil monkey before hitting send.
Texting while walking is distracting, and before I know, I’m standing outside of the Coalition’s office space. I tuck my phone into my bag and smooth a hand over my braided bun. If I’m going to stay in Aspen, I need to make a good impression in order to network my way into a job that doesn’t involve Nutella and grabby handed male customers.
Wow, I sound like a stripper. Not that there’s anything wrong with dancing for money. I’d earn more in tips if I were topless. Imagining how appalled my mother would be at me, I giggle. I guess I still have some of my rebellious streak.
Inside of the office, I greet Carmen who is both office manager and mother figure in the office for the tiny five-person staff, six including me. With her short salt and pepper hair, she’s no nonsense and not afraid to use her mom voice if needed, even when dealing with people older than she is.
“Who was that handsome man you were talking to last night?” she asks while I get settled at my small desk near the window.
I sling my bag over a hook next to my workstation, remove my phone from inside of it, and then pull out my chair. “Which one? I’m friends with a bunch of the rugby guys, but not all of them are good looking. What color hair?”
“Light brown, dark blond hair. So rugged and handsome,” she purrs. “I could probably be his mother, but I’m not blind. Please tell me you’re sleeping with him and he’s as gorgeous naked as he is clothed.”
Sweet lord. I should’ve had the morning cocktail. My iced latte is not going to get me through this morning if Carmen transforms into a rugby fangirl.
“Landon Roberts. Big guy? He’s one of the rugby players. Do you ever go to the matches at Wagner Park? You should. If you like watching men in shorts running and tackling and going all full contact on each other while grunting and sweating.” I think I’ve also described gay porn and hope she doesn’t come to the same conclusion.
“No, no. I know the players. I haven’t missed a Rugby Fest in twenty-five years. The whole weekend is blocked off on my calendar. I can’t wait.” She points at the wall calendar behind her, and sure enough, two weeks from now has a big red circle drawn around the weekend. “The man I’m talking about had a beard. Ring a bell? I’m hoping he’s a late-season recruit for the club. Do you have the scoop on him?”
Underneath her neatly trimmed hair, organic cotton clothes, and shoes made from recycled plastic bottles lies a woman who could probably make Landon and Easley blush.
“Bearded rugby player?” I’m stumped.
“White shirt. Jeans that hugged his ass like a lover’s hands.” She makes a cupping and squeezing motion with her own hands.
I feel my eyes bug out. “Aiden? Looks like he might have a squirrel’s nest hidden in his facial hair?”
“Nice name. I like my men a little bit feral. Keeps things interesting.” Her purr is back and she has a glimmer in her eyes.
I’m seeing a whole new side to Carmen this morning. Part of me wants to give her a high-five, but the bigger part wants to never speak of her lust for Aiden Roberts again.
She can have Landon. I’ll happily make the introductions.
“Sorry to pop your bubble, but Aiden’s not a player.” At least not on the rugby pitch. “More of fixer-upper, complete rehab project.”
Her face falls into a frown. “I didn’t get that vibe from him at all.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good guy. Having a little rough patch. Hopefully, he’ll figure things out and get back on his feet soon.”
I don’t want to gossip about him to Carmen. That’s how rumors are started. I tell her, she tells a friend, they tell two friends … and with each new person the story will change and grow. Not fair to Aiden.
“Interesting. Avery and I were going over the winning bids from the auction, and someone with the last name Roberts made a sizable donation by being the top bidder on three of the donated items.” She opens a folder. “At least I think the name was Aiden. Now I’m wondering if it was Landon.”
“I seriously doubt it was Aiden. You didn’t take a check from him, did you? It might bounce.” I cover my mouth with my hand. Seeing Carmen’s horrified expression, I add, “Haha. I’m joking.”
“Defrauding a charity isn’t a laughing matter.” Shuffling through the stack of bid sheets, she pulls out a group paper-clipped together. “Aha! I knew I remembered the name. Aiden Roberts.”
My morning coffee churns in my stomach. Why would he bid if he’s broke? “How much did he donate?”
“Thirty-one hundred. Certainly not the evening’s biggest donor, but enough that he caught Avery’s attention.” She pulls off the clip holding the bid sheets together.
Avery is our director of fundraising. A wealthy divorcée who got the ski house in her divorce settlement and decided to move here full time, she’s a master of getting money out of wealthy people, especially men. I don’t remember seeing her chatting with Aiden last night, but I was pretty busy doing my ninja maneuvers to avoid Landon.
“What did he win?” I stand on my toes so I can peer over her desk to read better.
Flapping the pages at me, she wards off my attempt. “Thought you said it was impossible for him to have bid and paid?”
This is worse than I imagined. “Did he pay by credit card or check?”
“Who carries checks around anymore? He paid by credit card, which was approved. I don’t know why you’re so concerned about this. Bid and bought. Done deal.” Casting a doubtful look at me, she slips the clip around the pages and hands them to me.
Silently, I ask what Aiden was thinking. Maybe he was trying to impress his brother or show him up. The two of them can be competitive, or at least they were growing up. Whatever Aiden could do, Landon had to do it better. The memory brings up a new theory.
“Did Landon win any items?” Perhaps Aiden bid to raise his brother’s bids and then got stuck as the top bidder. If he isn’t familiar with these kinds of events, he wouldn’t know that he could cancel before paying.
“No, I don’t see his name.” She closes the folder, patiently waiting for me to hand back the papers I’m holding.
“Hmm,” I hum out loud. “What have you done, Aiden?”
“Bought himself a balloon ride for two, four private yoga classes, and a night in a suite and a tasting menu dinner at the chef’s table at the Jerome. Not only is he hot in a feral way, he’s also a romantic and has a girlfriend. Lucky lady.” Carmen sighs.
I stare at the paper in my hand like some secret code or message in invisible ink will reveal the motivation behind Aiden’s actions. Girlfriend? Carmen has a point about him being handsome and he is the nicer of the two brothers, which isn’t saying a whole lot, but beyond those two points, he isn’t exactly a catch.
Are women so desperate these days that a nice ass, incredible abs—I assume based on the amount of muscles in his arms and shoulders— and a halfway decent personality are the best we can expect from men?
What happened to having a good job and a plan for the future? I’m not talking boring, conservative guys like Zoe’s ex who never want to get their heart rate elevated off of the slopes. There must be a happy zone between slacker and uptight overachiever.
Still confused, I hand back the papers and take the few steps to my desk. I specifically told him he didn’t have to feel pressured to bid. Now he’s out three grand for a balloon ride and some yoga classes.
“Hold on, those yoga sessions. Were they with Sage Blum?” I turn to face Carmen.
“She’s the only one who donated yoga, so yes.” Carmen gives me a funny look and then focuses on her computer. “None of my business, but you seem overly concerned about this man.”
“Trying to watch out for an old friend.” Not exactly the truth, but better than telling her about the gambling and hookers. Alleged gambling and hookers and rare rap albums.
A new theory about Aiden’s wasted millions crystalizes. What if he spent all of his money on random shit at charity auctions?
Needing to share this twist of events with the girls, I pull out my phone to send a group text. Another notification from Landon as well as a new text alert from Sage fill the home screen.
Landon’s text catches my eye because it’s a combination of eggplant, cherries, and a row of peaches.
“Okay. That’s weird,” I say to myself, clicking open the full message.
That’s when I see my last text to him.
Taco, thumbs-up, lipstick, and eggplant followed by three see no evil monkeys.
“No, fucking way,” I say softly, but not quietly enough.
“Language. This is a professional office,” Carmen chastises me like I’m a wild biker let loose in the pristine white, modern office with tasteful natural wood accents and succulents on every desk.
“Sorry. I just received shocking news.” If she only knew how shocking.
I think I just proposed sex with Landon using emojis.
Not sure what role the monkey plays in my bizarre scenario. Landon’s clearly open to the idea. Or he’s on a weird eggplant and fruit vegan diet.
“Are eggplants fruit?” I ask Carmen.
She sighs. “In fact, they are. You’re having a very Monday Monday, aren’t you? I don’t know if you need more caffeine or less.”
“Thanks. More coffee is always the answer.” I notice we’re the only two people in the office this morning. “Where is everyone?”
“It’s Monday. Staff meeting.” She throws some major shade in my direction. “You might want to get that second cup of coffee before you begin working.”
I’m off my game because of some random eggplant. This isn’t a big deal.
Picking up my phone, I walk over to the small kitchen to make myself a coffee. I forward a screenshot of my text and Landon’s response to the group, explaining the first text was for Sage.
Me: *Did I sext Landon by mistake?!!!*
Sage responds with ten horrified faces. Mara sends five laughing-crying emojis. Zoe must not be by her phone because I don’t receive an immediate response.
Mara: *At least you didn’t send that text to your mother.*
Me: *Like Margaret knows eggplant equals dick. She’d think it was a pictogram of my grocery list.*
Sage: *I wonder what he thinks the monkey means.*
Zoe: *Kinky, blindfolded monkey. And wow, he jumped from blowjobs to butt stuff in one text.*
I groan because she’s right. All those peaches. So disappointing. We’d been having a nice chat using words before I turned the conversation pervy.
Sage responds with more horrified scream faces.
Zoe: *Sorry, Sage. I keep forgetting you dated him.*
Me: *What should I do?* I pour some milk into my coffee, changing the black liquid to a light caramel.
Sage: *Burn your phone and get a new number?*
Mara: *Block him?*
Zoe: *See how far you can push him?* Zoe adds a banana, a shark, and a grinning face.
Sage: *Gross.*
Mara: *I don’t get it.*
Zoe: *Period sex.*
Mara: *That escalated quickly.*
Me: *Exactly my point.*
Zoe: *Fine. Text him back and say you sent it to the wrong person.*
Sage: *Genius. Will make him think you already have a man so he’ll back off.*
Me: *If I had a man, I wouldn’t need a wedding date.*
Zoe: *Want me to find you a cowboy on the ranch? I can’t promise he won’t smell like horses.*
I laugh at her suggestion. *Wouldn’t hurt to look.*
Zoe: *Done and done.*
Voices carry from the hall, indicating the staff meeting is over.
Me: *Gotta go*
Mara: *Me too. These cat testicles won’t remove themselves. :-)*
Sage: *So gross.*
I love my friends, but this morning has been a strange one.
Thankfully, there are no more sexts from Landon for the rest of the morning. Maybe my silence is response enough to keep him from responding.