Emma vs. The Tech Guy (10 page)

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Authors: Lia Fairchild

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary Fiction, #Humor

BOOK: Emma vs. The Tech Guy
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“He calls himself Mr. Humphries?” Howard asked. I was thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, it’s on his profile,” Jayne said.

Howard and I exchanged dual glances. Psycho or letch? Jayne saw my eyes and read my mind.

“It’s okay. We just talk.” Her expression brightened a beat. “He’s really sweet. An accountant. So Hank called me, and I told Mr. Humphries I had to go.” Jayne checked us for understanding before moving on. “He was pretty upset. He said Hank Jr. had run away, so I—”

“Hank has a kid?” Howard cut in.

“Hank Jr. is his dog,” I snapped. “Stop interrupting.” I turned back to Jayne. “Go ahead.”

“So I offered to go over and help him look. Hank said it was too late and he’d try again in the morning. Then he asked if he could come over.” Jayne finally realized it was food that was in her hand and took a bite of the loaded bread.

“Mmm.” She smiled at Howard, knowing it had to be his creation.

I filled in while she chewed. “So you told him he could come over.”

She swallowed hard and said, “Yeah.”

I waited for the “one thing led to another” part of the conversation and formulated my response. She took two more bites, leaving Howard and me staring at her chewing mouth.

“So what did he say when he got there?” Howard asked.

“Not much, really. He just seemed so sad. So upset about Hank Jr. I was only trying to comfort him, you know?”

Howard and I gave her the empathetic nods she needed.

“So what happened … after?” I asked.

“I told him he could spend the night. That I’d go with him in the morning to start looking again. I even offered to call in sick to work.”

“That was nice of you,” Howard said. He rubbed her arm, and I mirrored him on my side.

“So what’d he say?” I asked. I knew whatever was coming next would make me want to find Hank and beat him over the head with Hank Jr.’s doggy bone. I wouldn’t be intimated by the gorilla with the lobotomy. Maybe Emilia had something after all.

“At first, nothing. Then later, he must have thought I was asleep because I heard him in the bathroom getting dressed. When I got up to see what he was doing, he said he needed to go. That Hank Jr. could come home any minute, and he needed to be there.”

“Well, that sort of makes sense,” Howard said.

I nodded, but given this was Hank we were talking about, I knew there was more coming.

“Yeah, I figured that too,” Jayne said. Then she smoothed down her hair as if being more presentable would help the situation. “But when I asked if I could go with him, he said he better go alone. That he didn’t want me to have to deal with it. Then he left.”

Two words came to mind: booty call. I was sure Howard was thinking the same thing, but neither of us said it.

“I’m sorry, Jaynie.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Howard said. “What can I say? Men are pigs.”

The corners of Jayne’s mouth bounced up a hint, and that’s when I knew she wasn’t that heartbroken. Her ego was damaged more than anything. I could work with that. We just needed to build up her confidence. I had plenty of that when it came to my work, but on a personal level, I was no expert. But we weren’t talking about me. And I held out hope that Howard wasn’t entirely correct. There had to be men out there besides Pop and Howard who didn’t smell like pork and sizzle in the morning.

“You were too good for him anyway,” I said. I’d heard that in movies more times than I can remember and hoped it didn’t sound too clichéd.

“Thanks, you two.” Her grateful eyes darted between the two of us. “I really appreciate it. I guess I just feel like an idiot.”

“Hank’s the idiot,” Howard said. He got up to get the wine bottle. Then he gave us all a small refill, finishing it off. “Jayne, Emma’s right. You’re too good for him.”

I smiled at Howard and then at Jayne. I realized that those weren’t mere words. That Jayne did deserve better. And if the better that she wanted was Guy, then why not? He was single as far as I knew, and though Jayne was a little aggressive at times, she was a wonderful person. Guy would be lucky to have her. She’d been a great friend to me, the first in the office to really accept and like me. And the way she always tried to get me to have some fun and not be so obsessed with work really showed how much she cared about me. I’d made up my mind.

“Time for you to move on, Jaynie girl.” I raised my glass. Howard and Jayne took my cue. Looks like I’d end up match-making after all.

 

 

Chapter 11

 

It was the day before Adam, Guy, and I were to leave for the Vegas trade show. Nannette was home sick, and we all pitched in to catch the phones. I wasn’t yanking my hair out, thanks to Nannette, who knew I always crossed the crap out of those Ts and dotted the Is into certain death. She had everything confirmed for our trip, the tickets were on her desk, and she’d called earlier to go over every detail with me.

Guy had been working more hours before and after our work day, so my match-making plan for him and Jayne was dead in the water. At least until we got back from Vegas, where I planned to drop some subtle hints about Jayne. Maybe that was for the best. It would give her more time to forget about that Hank incident first. Needless to say, Hank Jr. never came home. Smart boy.

Bill and I had had lunch with the events coordinator for our launch party. Originally we were going to have the new issue come out with a news release and ad campaign. But I convinced Bill we needed to “go big or go home.” After a short rant about me spending all his money, he finally agreed.

It was nearing the end of my day, so I was feeling pretty confident that I’d pulled it all off until Nannette called for the last time. Just when I thought I had all the balls masterfully soaring through the air, my panties rode up my ass and one of the balls fell to the ground.

“Has the basket arrived yet?” Nannette said.

“Basket?” It took only two seconds for me to realize what she was talking about

“Did you forget about the auction at the senior center?”

Shit, the basket.
“I did until now.” Our church doubles as a senior center, and Pop and a couple of the boys often hang out there. Pop volunteers, mostly keeping up the garden, and tries to pretend that’s the only reason he goes. Tonight was an auction/fundraiser. I had offered to donate a basket from the magazine. It was to be an entertainment theme, with books, dvds, treats, and gift cards to various places in the community.

“I can’t believe it hasn’t arrived yet,” Nannette said. She was probably as surprised as I was that two people with butts as tight as ours had let that detail fall through the cracks. My apologies for the visual. “I told them it had to be delivered by two.”

It was a little after five and I needed to pick up Pop before we headed to the church. “Where’s the number? I’ll see what’s going on.”

“I have it here. You get going and I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you deal with this when you’re sick.”

“It’s fine, really. Just get going and I’ll make sure it gets to the church on time.”

I knew the mistake had to be on someone else, so I didn’t blame Nannette. “Thanks, girl. I really appreciate that.” I hung up knowing she’d come through for me. Did I have a choice?

 

***

 

I phoned Pop right before I left to pick him up. Apparently he was the only one who remembered the auction, and I thought I knew why. It was tough to resist asking if Mrs. Elwood would be there. I hadn’t heard anything since we dropped her off after her doctor’s appointment.

As I approached the door, I hoped Pop would at least look his best in case she was there. The challenge for him would be to dress nice enough for her, but not so fancy that the boys would notice and give him a hard time. Lou would probably be there, maybe Fred too, but most of the others didn’t venture out much.

When he opened the door, I smelled him before I saw him. His outfit was a presentable pair of jeans with a maroon pullover polo shirt. The scent brought me back home. I remembered the last time he’d used the cologne I’d bought him for Christmas more than a dozen years ago. It was my fourteenth birthday. Dad was away on “business,” or at least that’s what he told us, and Pop wanted to do something special for me. He took me to the Lobster Claw for all-you-can-eat crab legs, and then we went to the movies. I don’t remember what we saw, just that we got shushed for laughing. It wasn’t even about something from the movie. Pop and I often laughed about jokes or incidents long after they happened. It took but one word or sideways glance to start the cackling.

When we walked out of the show, I saw some girls from my school. I didn’t want them to see me, to think my dad was an old guy, so I turned my back to them and my Pop. Then I strode over to the concession counter. I pretended to be looking at the Whoppers. My Pop knew we didn’t intend to buy anything after the movie was over, but he joined me, leaned in, and said, “Those are my favorite. Guess we’ll have to get some next time.” When I peered up and our eyes met, my heart sank. I saw it all in his understanding gaze.

I aged five years in that moment. I never took my Pop for granted after that. I was still a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but I was always proud to call him my Pop, my father.

By the time we pulled into the parking lot, a text was waiting from Nannette. She said the basket was on the way. I wondered if Jayne was the one bringing it. A while back she’d offered to come with me to keep me company. I never told her I actually enjoyed hanging with the senior citizens. The elderly tended to be pleasant, funny, and low stress. They didn’t expect anything from me, and I didn’t need to impress them. They could be ornery, and they talked incessantly about their various ailments, but I could handle that. I always thought it was because I was raised by someone older, but Howard said it was an obvious sign of relationship phobia. I gravitated to where it was safe. I guess that’s what led me to Howard as well.

Lou was waiting at the door when we arrived. He was Pop’s right-hand man, and the two fought, teased, and loved each other like brothers. He whistled as we approached.

“Thanks,” I said, though I knew he wasn’t looking at me.

“You do look lovely, Emma Jean, but I was talking to this handsome lad.”

“Pipe down, Tweetie Bird.” Pop walked right past Lou and opened the door. We both knew he wasn’t mad, and we followed him in. The first thing I noticed was the heat. I’d forgotten how stifling it could get in there. I never bothered to ask if they were too cheap to turn up the AC, or if they figured that was how the seniors liked it.

A small entryway led us to tables lined up in rows displaying the auction items. Each basket had a clipboard next to it that described the contents. Lined spaces below were provided for people to bid on the basket. The double doors in the back were propped open. One of the pastors was grilling dogs and burgers.

It was a pretty good turnout, and as I scanned the room, I noticed some familiar faces. But none were Mrs. Elwood, Jayne, or anyone holding a basket that appeared to be looking for me. I wondered if it had arrived already and was placed on a table, so I told Pop and Lou I was going to take a look. All I knew was that I spoke to someone named Tracey, whose makeup was so thick and pale I thought she’d escaped from the mortuary viewing room. That was almost two months ago.

After strolling down two rows, I finally found an empty spot with a placard, but no basket, that read “
New You
magazine.” Great advertisement for the company—an empty table. A tap on my shoulder sent me whirling around to find Jayne along with an expertly dressed older gentleman. If I was lucky, he was in charge and about to help me with my missing basket situation.

“Hey, Emma.” Jayne seemed to be overly chipper for being at a senior event. She reached out and touched my arm. “How’s it going?”

“Just got here, but the damn basket’s not here yet. Do you have it?”

“Sorry, no. Was I supposed to?” Her smile faded a hint, but bounced right back up. The man next to her stroked a bushy salt-and-pepper mustache with one hand. My gaze trailed his other arm to find his hand clasped with Jayne’s. This would be interesting.

“I don’t know. Nannette said someone was bringing it.”

“Oh, I left early.” She glanced to her side. “I’m sorry. This is my close friend, Emma. We work together at the magazine.” Then she turned to me, “Emma, this is Mr. Humphries.”

Amusement won over confusion, causing the right side of my mouth to fight against an upward stretch. “Nice to meet you.”

As we shook hands he added a head nod and said, “It’s a pleasure.” He had a pleasant twinkle in his eye, and though he sported a tweed jacket, the heat didn’t seem to affect him. I figured it had to be a Hank-rebound thing, but with Jayne, you never really knew.

“Do you want me to help you?” Jayne asked.

Mr. Humphries got the hint. “I saw a Golf Country Club basket back there I wanted to bid on, so I’ll let you ladies do your business.” He kissed Jayne’s cheek before leaving, and Jayne blushed like a schoolgirl.

“You know what? I’ll call Nannette. You go ahead.” My head motioned in the direction of Mr. Humphries, who could have been close to Pop’s age. I didn’t say a word.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Jayne asked.

“About what?”

“Mr. Humphries. I mean I’m sure you must be wondering.”

“Jayne … it’s none of my business.”

“Don’t you care?” Jayne appeared confused, almost hurt.

Was this some sort of a test? It was new territory for me. Of course I cared, but I didn’t want to butt in. “Jaynie, what would you like me to say?”

“I don’t know! Something!”

“Okay, what the hell are you thinking? That old geezer looks as old as my Pop.”

Her eyes popped out and her neck rose up like a giraffe.

“I know you’re upset about Hank, but really?”

“Emma!”

“What? You wanted me to say something.”

“Yeah, but not that.”

“Okay, he’s lovely. Go for it. I hear Viagra does wonders.” I put on a sickening smile and rubbed her arm. “Better?”

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