His Pretend Maid

October 2017 As far as first meetings go, theirs was nothing special. A typical storybook cliché of eyes meeting across the room -- how many times have people heard that story before? She had just returned home from a trip and was leaving again in a month. A simple night out with friends was exactly what she needed. Meanwhile, he listened to his friends ramble on about their girls (who were otherwise absent for the night) while his bright blue eyes trailed the room. She stood at the bar, half-listening to a guy desperately trying to get into her pants. Claiming he needed another drink, he headed to the bar, stopping a few seats from the girl. He struggled to hear the guy’s pathetic, wooing words. He tried to keep a straight face and pushed his way beside her. Brushing his hand against her back, he leaned towards the couple. “Is there a problem here, babe?” “Not at all honey; Dustin here was telling me about . . . what was it again?” She smirked in the stranger’s direction before pulling him into her. “I was telling her about the charity soccer match my mates and I are playing in this weekend. Ugh . . . I didn’t realize you had a guy. I apologize.” Dustin stuttered, looking between the guy and the girl he had his arm curled around. Watching Dustin walk away, the girl turned to the stranger with a smile. “Thanks but you didn’t have to do that.” “You looked like you needed some help so I was happy to rescue you.” She snorted shaking her head. “Honey, I don’t need you or any other man saving me.” “Oh yeah? You look scared out of your mind talking to Dustin.” He said with a grin. Leaning closer to him, she bit back a laugh at his nervous smile. “Honey, I’ve done stuff that little boys like you could only dream of.” “How about you have a drink with me and we can talk about everything you’ve done?” His eyes held a sparkle of mischief in them as they bore into her soul. His eyes reminded her of her older brother who always got into trouble with his pranks. Shaking her head, she took a sip from her glass. “You’re going to have to work a little bit harder than that cowboy. Any other pickup lines you want to try out?” He was never one to back away from a challenge. “You’re different than most girls I run into. How about we ditch this place and take a walk around the city? I swear I’m not a psychopath or a mass murder.” He raised his hands to demonstrate his pure intention. She ran through the pros and cons of his offer as she put her glass down. “How do you know I’m not the psychopath mass murderer who gets her victims by pretending to be a damsel in distress?” “Are you?” He laughed at her attempt to look tough before raising his eyebrows. “I’m guessing you’re not. If you were a psycho, you wouldn’t have looked me in the eyes. You miss, are bullshitting me. Come on; what do you have to lose? A couple of hours of your free time? I’ll even buy you ice cream!” She spoke quickly with the barkeep and slipped him a 10-pound note before pushing back from the bar. “I can be persuaded to join you for a walk around the city. Only because you promised ice cream.” He ushered her out of the bar and used the throng of people they passed through as an excuse to hold her hand. She pretended not to have noticed it. She took a deep breath and exhaled as they stumbled into the cool autumn air. “So where are we headed exactly? Or did you not figure that out yet hotshot?” He took her raised eyebrows as a challenge and tugged on her arm, leading her down the street to the sleepy city center. He muttered about getting ‘no respect’ causing her to giggle behind him. “So how about your name? I mean if I’m going to spend the next however many hours with you, I might as well know it. I’m trying to rack up brownie points here, not earn creeper points. I don’t want to call you babe or hun – unless you’re into those corny nicknames? Because I’m good at making up nicknames, Psycho.” “Number one, damn you talk a lot. Number two, you’re not a creeper; at least I haven’t made up my mind about that yet. And third, it’s Megs.” Nodding his head in approval, he smiled. “Is it short for anything, Damsel?” She laughed at the nicknames he called her. “Meghan . . . my parents are Italian. I have three older brothers and when they found out they were finally having a girl, they fell in love with the name Meghan. What about you, Popstar?” She chuckled because her nickname for him also revealed she knew who he was all along. He stopped walking, causing her to plow into his back. “You know who I am? Are you not a fan?” “Oh your music is catchy as hell, constantly getting stuck in my head, and it doesn’t help that I have two nieces who are in love with you and your bandmates. Sadly, they’re 6 and 8 though one of them is convinced her and the curly haired mofo are going to live happily ever after.” Megs laughed thinking about the two little brunettes she would see in days. They continued walking and ended up in an empty ice cream parlor. “Besides your three brothers, do you have any additional siblings? I mean, you’re Italian after all.” “Yup.” She hit his shoulder for joking about Italians having huge families – even though he was right about her family. “In addition to the pain in the butt older brothers, I also have a younger sister. The house was always chaotic. Never a dull moment. Not exactly sure how my poor parents survived us growing up.” Taking a moment to look up at the board, she weighed her options. Should she be good and go for the strawberry shake or go for the so-good-it’s-bad peanut butter chocolate shake? Strawberry shake won out. He, however, ordered a chocolate concoction with so many fillings and additives that made her head spin. “You’re destined for a sugar rush!” “Good thing you’re here to keep me company then, Italia. Of all the things to choose from, you pick a plain old strawberry shake; I however like to live on the edge. I took a walk with a potential mass murder.” He teased as she went to find a booth for them to sit. Taking a moment to herself to internally freak out, Megs took a deep breath before looking at the man at the counter. She had heard a thousand things from her nieces but the man she walked into the parlour with was nothing of the sort. He made her laugh and paid attention to every little thing she had said. He hadn’t been offended by her banter; in fact, he gave just as much back as she dished out. “Uh oh . . . I sense an internal battle of thoughts occurring. Am I moving too fast for your liking or you taking a moment to pinch yourself that I’m real and not what you thought I’d be?" She looked at him like he had grown two heads. “How the hell are you inside my head? It’s like you knew exactly what I was thinking!” “I have sisters . . . sisters who just started dating so I’m very aware of the look that was just on your face.” Taking her shake from his hands, she smiled in thanks before taking a long sip and thinking about how to word her next sentence without offending him. “My nieces seem to know everything about you and your bandmates. But I’ve realized everything they’ve mentioned is completely and utterly untrue.” “Does it surprise you?” She found herself shaking her head. Megs placed a hand on his. “No, not in the slightest.” They sat in silence and enjoyed their shakes. Their minds each were in different places but both were curious about the other person in the booth. “So this is a little unfair. You know way too much about me but I hardly know anything about you. So have at it. . . tell me everything about you.” Glaring in his direction, she took another sip of her shake and savored the sweet mix of ice cream and strawberries. “Oh boy - where do you want me to start? Can I at least have some questions to answer?” He wanted to hear everything about her. “Welcome to my life, sweet cheeks. Questions? Hmmm . . . what can I ask you?” He put the hand that wasn’t holding hers to his chin. “When is your birthday? What do you do for a living? Favorite food? What do you do in your spare time, aside from shooting down guys like Dustin?” Her eyes widened at the rapid succession of questions from him. “All right; birthday is the 6th of January; favorite food is pasta and cereal; and spare time . . . don’t have much of that but when I do I love to get lost in the city exploring antique stores.” He liked those answers. “You missed one – what do you do for a living?” His eyebrows raised in anticipation. “And remember that Psycho or Damsel is not an official title for anything.” Taking a deep breath, she pushed her shake aside before leaning forward a bit. His grip tightened on their joined hands. Letting the breath out slowly, her eyes met his in a nervous flick. “I’m a bombardier for the British Army.” He was silent for a few seconds. His eyes were wide with astonishment and he kept opening and shutting his mouth without a sound. “Wait, what?” She laughed at his sudden discovery of his voice. “You heard me.” “So you were serious when you said that you’ve done stuff that I could only dream of?” He was still in that shocked as hell trance. He couldn’t believe the woman sitting in front of him was a bombardier – his grandfather was one back in his heyday and the stories he told were absolutely amazing. Nodding, she thought back on all the places she had traveled to and all the opportunities she had because of her career. “Oh yeah; I’ve been to places you only thought of and worked with equipment you can only dream about. I take it you know what a bombardier is?” “My granddad was one and the stories he used to tell would keep me entertained for days. The way he talked with such pride held you in a trance that was hard to break from. So I know what he did as a bombardier but what does the job entail today?” He leaned back and looked at her with nothing but curiosity on his face. Good, she thought, at least he had some knowledge of her job. It was always hard telling people what she did for a living so the fact he had some background knowledge was a huge weight off her shoulders. “I am the lead engineer on the bomber airplanes for the Royal British Army. I have held bombs in my hands that could level cities and installed automatic guns into those same bombers. I have to travel often to inspect those bombers and make sure they are in tip top shape in case they are called into action.” “Where have you traveled? Are you currently on leave? When do you go back? How did you get involved with the Army?” He was curious about all that she had accomplished and wanted to ask more questions but managed to hold back. Taking a slurp of her shake before running a hand through her hair, she sighed. “Of course you’d jump right in. I’ve been to Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Africa, and Indonesia. I am currently on leave and will go back to base in four weeks. How did I get into the Army? My granddad and dad were both in the army and the stories they told were amazing. I went to uni for engineering, graduated first in my class, and the Army recruited me from there. I’ve been with them for about two years now.” “Wow . . . I honestly don’t know what to say.” He slowly said as she laughed. “You mean the celebrity who wouldn’t shut up a few minutes ago is in awe of me? Surprised by what I do?” He nodded. “Massively . . . never did I think that would come out of your mouth.” “Most guys are shocked as hell when I tell them what I do. A lot of times guys are intimidated by it, but I absolutely love my job; I get such a thrill every time I stand in front of those bombers.” He smiled at the excitement and passion in her voice as she talked about her job. “You get so excited about your job. Have you ever been hurt or in any danger?” “Anytime I go into any country with a war going on I’m in some kind of danger. I was a prisoner for four days in Afghanistan, which scared the hell out of me. The forces stormed in and rescued me and four other hostages. But any real danger? Not really.” She shrugged her shoulders smirking at the look of horror on his face. “So what did you think I did for a living, popstar?” He looked at their still intertwined fingers, squeezing her hand gently. “No real danger? You’re scaring the hell out of me just by talking. I thought you were a nurse or teacher or something along those lines. Can you fly the bombers or just work on them?” “I’ve had my pilot’s license since I was 16. I had a lot of great memories of being in an airplane cockpit from the time I was a baby. It was just natural that I’d get my pilot’s license before I got my driver’s license. My granddad and dad were both pilots while in the Army. So it was natural my brothers Alex, Leo and I all have our pilot licenses. Ava and Ryan hate flying so they avoid planes like they are the plague.” “So Leo and Alex are pilots? What about Ava and Ryan? What do they do?” He shifted in the booth trying to get more comfortable. “Ava is at uni studying nursing and Ryan in a mechanical engineer. Our family is not normal at all. We’re really a bunch of misfits. Leo and Alex are twins who act more like 6 year olds than the 32 year olds they really are. Both of them are married; Leo is the one with the girls and Alex’s wife is pregnant with their first and second, ironically twins. Ryan is 28 and Ava is 23. I’m 24. Whenever the five of us are together its mayhem and we drive my parents crazy. There have been pranks that have put yours to shame.” A hint of a smile tugged on her lips as she thought about her siblings. “Are you sure about those pranks? I pull the best ones off.” Squeezing her hand, he watched her eyes meet his. “When was the last time you saw them? I can’t even imagine what your parents and siblings go through every time you walk into a war zone.” “Uh huh . . . sure we’ll have to put those ‘pranks’ to test one day. I saw them two months ago. Ryan just got married so we were all together for that. Skype is a fabulous thing while you’re away, as I assume you know all too well about. Are you off tour for a while or you heading back out in a few weeks? When was the last time you saw your family?” He let himself slip back into a daydream of his family. He could still hear his four sisters laughing as they ran around the yard or his mother banging pots and pans in the kitchen, baking and cooking his favorite dishes. “I saw them a couple of days ago. We’ve got a few weeks off before we head into the studio to start recording.” “You obviously love your job but it has to get old after a while. I can’t imagine being on the road for months on end. I would get too homesick and miss my family too much.” Shifting in her seat, she stretched her back with a huff. Shrugging, he smiled. “You definitely have to love this job and have a passion for it. The road does get tiring but I’m with my best friends. Performing every night, there’s nothing like it. But don’t you do the same thing? Aren’t you always traveling and moving from one place to another?” “Nah I’ve got a flat here but base is in Hampshire. I only travel for a couple of days at a time. Jet lag is a b***h though . . . I’m typically riding the red eye back so my body is messed up for days afterwards.” She stuck her tongue out at him as he chuckled. “Here’s your fair warning popstar, do not contact me for 48 hours after I return from a trip! I’m miserable for those precious hours after returning while my body kicks back to normal time.” He nodded knowing exactly what she was talking about. “I’m the same. We typically stay up until one in the morning and then hit the sack but our bodies are up by 5:30. That’s the worse part of returning home from tour.” “So any other questions, Mr. Park? Or is this the part we continue on our adventure of the city?” Standing up, he offered her his hand. They gathered their trash before walking out into the chilly night. “Ummmm what’s a guy have to do to get a second date with you?” “Wasn’t it torture enough to spend the last 2 hours with me? Now you want to spend even more time with me?” Giving her a look, he tried to look serious but failed miserably. “Megs…” It was the first time he used her real name. He let it roll in his mouth. Something told him he would get used to saying her name. “Megs. Come on, give a guy a chance. If you just want to be friends, then that’s cool but I really enjoyed hanging out with you tonight. Like I said earlier, you are different than most girls and something is telling me to keep you around as long as possible.” “I’ll bite, how about we have lunch together tomorrow? You can think of some decent questions to ask and we’ll go from there.” Stopping at the curb waiting for the light to change, he pulled out his phone before handing it over. “Can I get your number to call you?” “That was pathetic, Park. I anticipated a much better way of asking for my number.” Frowning, she accepted the phone and quickly put in her number before saving it. “I thought they taught you how to be suave and cool in Popstar School. Apparently you failed that part miserably.” He chuckled, knowing that any upcoming hangout times with her would be anything but dull. “I got your number anyway, didn’t I, you quick whippersnapper.” “And apparently your mind forgot to tell your mouth that it’s 2013 not 1920.” She teased, sticking out her tongue. She walked ahead of him a bit, giving him a chance to think on the past few hours. He couldn’t believe that the girl he had ‘saved’ at the bar had been the same girl that is currently putting him in his place. He knew that she was going to definitely change his life for the better. “Yo Park . . . did I lose you?” Her voice called knocking him out of his thoughts. “Where did you go?” He smiled catching up to her. “I never left.” “Uh huh . . . sure. You were in Neverland, Peter Pan. What were you thinking about?” Shaking his head, he linked hands with her. “Nothing in particular but I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Megs.” “Yeah? I think it’s the start of a pain in my butt popstar interrupting my quiet life.” Throwing back his head, a loud laugh escaped, echoing off the building causing her to join in laughter as he walked her back to her flat. They both agreed it was the start of something beautiful.