She's Out of Control (6 page)

I pull my hand under the desk. “It's getting fitted. It's a recent engagement.” Oh, I so hate myself right now. This is bad reality television at its finest, and I'm the scheming, low-down girl you root against. I don't know how I ever thought I'd get away with that whopper in the first place.

“We were all just talking about how
we'd
say yes to Hans in a minute. He only goes for you educated types, though.” Tracy crinkles her nose. “To each his own, I guess. Plus, we gals think you have more of a German facial structure, so maybe he finds that attractive.”

“A German facial structure?” I'm thinking this isn't necessarily a compliment.

“You know, not ugly or anything, but just . . .” She holds her fists out in front of her. “You know, squarer. Solid.” Tracy obviously sees my dismay. “Not that that's a bad thing. I mean, it's sexy to a lot of guys.”

“Can you get these patents filed for me?” I hand Tracy a bundle of folders. “Cross reference them by their product name and their category, which is on the side of the folders.”
That ought to keep you out of trouble for a while.
I pick up the patent I worked all night on. “I'll be in Hands's, I mean Hans's, office if you need anything.”

I make my way across the office floor, and I can feel that all eyes are on me. It's like my skirt is in my pantyhose. It's an ominous moment for me, because I'm never thought to be “that” kind of a girl. I'm a thirty-one-year-old virgin, for crying out loud. The fact that I'm being seen as seductress would be comical if it wasn't so eerily creepy. I knock on Hans's door, and he opens it, lifting his wheat-colored eye-brows at the sight of me.

“Ashley,” he oozes. “Here's your coat.” I turn around and see the admins huddled in a knowing circle. “You girls get to work!” Hans yells, and they scatter like cockroaches in the light.

You know, I have a theory, and why I was too desperate to notice it here before I took this job is beyond me at the moment. When a company hires half-dressed secretaries, it's usually a good sign that the CEO has issues. A “normal” CEO doesn't allow his company to give off that kind of a message, which really says,
our company can be bought for a price, so name it.
Sweeping my gaze across the room, I realize that Gainnet's image reminds me of bad politicians vying for the gaming lobby: guilty and sleazy.

“Thanks for my coat.” I look Hans dead in the eye, hoping to tell him that I'm not afraid and that I'm not available. But inside I'm just praying,
Help me, Lord. Help me, Lord. I'm in way over my head.
All the while I suspect my lies are probably keeping me from any divine protection that might have been otherwise available.

“Don't rush off now. I want to talk to you about the patent. What I've seen so far, just last night, is genius. I know you started here as a simple patent attorney, but it's clear you're general counsel material, and I don't want to let another company figure that out first.”

I let my guard down a bit and sit in the proffered chair in Hans's office. “Yes, I was offered the position of general counsel before I left Selectech. I didn't take the job for personal reasons.”

“We haven't had a general counsel here at Gainnet, but with our revenue growing by such leaps and bounds, I think it's time we brought counsel in-house. Would you be interested in the job if the board approved such a position?”

I can feel the blood rising in my cheeks. “Absolutely!” By now my face is hot and red. “I'm just about to purchase half my room-mate's house, and the title would help immensely on my loan apps.”

“It's more than a title I'm offering. It's an increase in your stock options, which would also help financially.” He pauses for a moment. “Did you say you're purchasing half your fiancé's house?”

“Not my fiancé, my roommate.” Okay, major blunder. Lying seems so easy on TV. They don't show all the other lies that have to accompany the first one.

“But I thought you were getting married.”

“Well, I am, but just not presently.”

“Are you going to have kids?”
Yes, this is an illegal question, but Hans cares little for American proprieties.

“We're not sure yet about children. We're still working out the details of the wedding.”
Like, whether we're actually having one
.

“These are things you have to think about as a woman with a career. Plot your course, as they say.”

“Right.” I'm like a Pavlovian dog at the moment, salivating over a job that hasn't even been created yet. Kay is right. No job is worth my self-respect. Do I have any of that left? “I'd like to have a bushel of kids,” I suddenly blurt.

“Really?” Hans clasps his hands together on his desk. “I have four of them. Lot of work and money, those kids.”

“You have four? I thought you only had two.”

“Here in America, I only have two. They're from my marriage, but I was young once.” He winks. “I have two that were born when I lived in France as a bachelor. I never see those kids, but they cost me a bundle.” He whistles. “They're getting ready for college.” He chuckles here, and I can't even force a smile.
Ewww,
is all I can think. He has kids as old as Sophia the nanny.

“Well, back to work,” I say brightly. “I'd be happy to talk to you about the general counsel job when you have more time.”

“I'll be in touch with the board.” Hans stands up, and when I exit, the admins are huddled together again, like a high-school foot-ball team.

“Ahem,” I say and they go back to pretending they're working.
I have a major headache
.

I clamber with the phone, struggling to punch in Brea's numbers, but I keep missing them. On the third try, I get her. “Hi, Ash, what's up?”

“I so need a friend. I have no friends here, Brea. They all think I'm the office . . . you know . . . but they are the ones dressed up like off-duty strippers. I'm so out of my element. I feel like I should wear a chastity belt at this job.”

“You've just made a big change, Ashley. You're like the Israelites who remember the good things of Egypt instead of the slavery. Miles,” Brea coos. “Say hello to Auntie Ashley. Auntie is having a bad day. Give her kisses.” I hear the baby gurgling in the phone, and I just start to laugh. Brea can always make me laugh. Pretty soon, the gurgling turns into a healthy smacking sound. “No, no. Don't eat the phone, Miles. Icky. Dirty. Hello,” she says to me.

“He's a doll. Can I have him yet? He's the only man I know worth having.”

“No, he still remembers that you wanted a girl. He'll never for-give you for that.”

“Story of my life.”

“I have something to cheer you up, but you have to promise not to root me out,” Brea says.

“Would I ever do that?”

“Seth invited us over on Friday night to share in a ‘surprise' for you.”

“No way!”

“Yep. He said he's been planning this for weeks now, and wants it to be perfect.”

“This is after Arin came home?”

“Just this morning.”

I scream into the phone. “Finally. Finally, something in my life is going right.”

“I knew you'd have a cow if you came home with sloshy, day-old makeup, so I made up my mind to tell you, but you can't tell John. He'll call me a gossip.”

“You
are
a gossip!”

“Shh. Only with you. Otherwise, I'm the perfect, Proverbs 31 woman. Miles thinks so, and that's all that matters to this mama. But I'd have a connip if John was coming to ask me to marry him and inviting people over, and I looked like I'd been at work all day. Shoot me now.”

“Um, yeah.” I lower my voice into the phone. “Any idea what the ring looks like?”

“He wouldn't tell me a thing, Ash. And believe me, I tried. I called John right away to tell him.”

“Why didn't you call
me?
You traitor.”

“Because for a few minutes I thought I could keep it from you. I thought I could rise above my personal anguish and keep a secret from my best friend. But I was wrong. As soon as I heard your voice, I knew I'd blurt it out.”

“Thank goodness!”

“Listen, I gotta run. It seems Miles has been using this time productively, and the aroma is overwhelming me. Don't let that boss of yours get to you. Remember, you are a star patent attorney, and nothing he implies means anything, and the gals are just talking about what they know from experience. You'll be Seth's wife soon and won't have to worry about this, anyway.”

Seth's wife
. I'll be Seth's wife soon. “See ya.” I hang up the phone and type on my to-do list.

THINGS TO DO BEFORE BECOMING A FIANCÉE

1. Tell Kay no on the house.

2. Get my nails done!

3. Practice enthusiastic facial expressions in the mirror.

4. Wax & shape eyebrows for a thoroughly surprised arch.

5. Invest in lingerie for wedding night.
I'm having a wedding night!

6. Buy my own high-quality game controller to let Seth know I care about his needs too.

7. Make an appt for seaweed wrap, must have baby bum skin.

8. Practice hand gestures that will show off sparkling diamond!

6

W
ednesday nights are the highlight of my week. It's Bible study, Reason Style! Like I said before, we all have various reasons for being woefully single. Not the least of which being that we're all weird in our own special way. We live in Silicon Valley, so I guess that goes without saying. But I digress. Bible study is a highlight because I get to hear Seth speak the Truth. I fall hopelessly in love with him all over again when I hear his knowledge of Scripture. I find myself day-dreaming about what kind of husband he'll make, lulling me to sleep with God's Word. It makes me think about turning in my Audi convertible for a minivan. Well, let's not get too crazy. Maybe just a foreign SUV.

Our house is spotless, and Kay is going through her regular ritual of praying in every room before the study, and secretly, I think she stays in the kitchen the longest, hoping that everyone will love her fabulous culinary creations. She used to have people take turns with snacks, but after one too many bag-o-chips and no beverages, she gave that up. You know that saying, “He's all that and a bag of chips?” Well, that was our group: all that and one bag of measly, half-priced, grocery-store-brand chips.

(California is health conscious, so if you're going to buy chips here, you'll find they generally are made with expellerpressed safflower oil, not hydrogenated oil, which is so artery-clogging. Normally Californians buy the fancy stuff for themselves. But not the Reasons—not for Bible study.)

One of the issues the Reasons share is a complete inability to think practically. Case in point: Thanksgiving 2002. Someone is signed up to bring mashed potatoes. I kid you not, for twenty-two people, he showed up with a pint of potatoes from Boston Market—with beef gravy. We had to explain that turkey is a poultry dish—and generally goes best with a poultry, i.e., chicken or turkey gravy.
And I thought I was lame in the kitchen.

So now, Kay ensures her kitchen will never be tortured again: It's a clipboard issue. Kay controls that clipboard like every other aspect of her life. Meanwhile my life wildly spins off its axis. Tonight I feel like a million. I feel like I am the winning bachelorette and general counsel all rolled into one, well-dressed chick. The way I see it, it's my last Reason Bible Study
as
a Reason. Next week, I'll have a ring and a date, and most importantly, a fiancé.

“The bathrooms look great. Thanks for cleaning them. I love that bleach smell.” Kay inhales deeply and continues. “Have you thought anything more about my offer? I'd like to get things started before the rates go up.”

“I have! This should be kept quiet, but . . .” Doorbell. “Hang on, I'll get the door.”

I race to the door, and my stomach flips as I see it's Arin. She's back from the rain forest mission field, looking as emaciated as ever.
I wish I had my ring and my date now.
Her blonde hair shines like a tow-headed toddler. It's the kind of color you can't get from a bottle. It makes me finger my fake auburn lowlights, for which I paid a fortune.

“Ashley!” Arin squeals and pulls me into a hug, then steps back. “You look great. You have that glow about you. I know you're not pregnant. Are you in love?”

I smile sheepishly. “Seth and I are dating. We've been together nine months now.”

“Nine months, you're kidding? I feel so old being away that long. You have to fill me in on everything.” She spots Kay. “Kay, it's so good to see you. Kevin told me a lot, but clearly not everything if you're living together, and Ashley is dating Seth and not Kevin.”

Kevin is her ex. Well, he's mine too, but we won't go into that. Suffice it to say, it was brief and completely unrealistic. Kevin looks like Hugh Jackman, and he's a pediatric surgeon at Stanford Children's Hospital. Way out of my league, and quite frankly, that's okay with me. I have morning issues anyway. I don't want to wake up next to someone prettier than me. I've seen those women on Oprah whose family hasn't seen them without makeup. It's too weird for me.

So I'm still talking, unable to stop my blatant oversharing, trying to compensate for my feelings of inadequacy. “Seth came up to Las Vegas at my brother's wedding, and we've been dating ever since.”

“Well, good. Those blue eyes of his are too precious to waste. They would be so pretty on a little girl.” Arin is completely sincere. You want to hate her because she's so darling, but she makes it impossible. Generally she's pure of speech and motive, but Lord for-bid if she wants something and you're standing in her way. It's that one little tick that makes you keep an eye on her, just in case.