Chapter 2
1585 Words
2
Teegan
I really need to work out more often, I think as I huff and puff my way up the stairs. Go back to that damn gym I sponsor with my bank account bi-weekly.
As I round the corner of the stairs that lead to my third-floor apartment, every muscle in my body tenses when I see her lying in front of my door. Asleep or passed out, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that she’s here for her post-relationship crash cycle.
I crouch down and shake her shoulder, noticing her overnight bag on the floor next to her. “Mom.”
A soft smile graces her lips before her eyes open. “Tee?” she asks.
“Yeah, Mom.” I hook my arm under hers to help her to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Carl broke up with me. Went back to his wife.” She lays her head on my shoulder as I unlock the door while holding her and my bags in my arms.
“I wish I could say I was surprised,” I mumble, more to myself than anything because throwing out ‘I told you so’s’ won’t speed up the process of her moving on any faster. “Head to the spare bedroom and I’ll make us some dinner.”
She stumbles into my apartment, stopping right before I can make my way inside. Her cold hands land on both my cheeks and she looks at me like I’m her savior. “You’re the best, baby.” She heads down the hall, saying, “I have the best daughter.”
She has the biggest pushover for a daughter.
Grabbing her bag from the hallway, I lock up behind me.
I still can’t get Leo’s face out of my head as I unload the groceries I bought on my way home. He’s completely hot and manly. Nothing like I expected to find when I walked into Canine Couture. The bunching muscles in his arms every time he moved and the natural blond highlights in his light hair are keeping him forefront in my mind. His million-dollar smile works like a sledgehammer on the brick wall that separates professionalism from p*********y in my brain.
Maybe it’s just been too long.
Who am I kidding? It’s been too long.
I get out the chicken and peppers and leave them on the counter when there’s a knock on my door.
Peeking through the peephole first, I unlock the three locks and open the door, where my neighbor Sophie is there with a bottle of wine clutched in her hand.
“You feed me and I’ll keep you hydrated.” She walks in without an invitation, heading straight to the kitchen.
“My mom’s here.” I join her and pull out two glasses for us. “She’s in the spare room.”
Sophie sighs but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. I know that sigh says that one day I’ll have to say no. I understand where she’s coming from, but it’s my mom.
Sophie opens the wine and pours it into the glasses. “Let’s down this and trash the bottle before she wakes up,” she says.
Sophie knows the drill. Alcohol and my mom don’t mix—or they do, maybe too well. I’ve never really been able to figure out which it is.
I place the chicken into the skillet, sipping my wine while stirring.
“Tell me about your day,” I say because all I can think of right now is either the hot client I might catch or how long it will take my mom to get back on her feet this time.
Sophie slides up on the counter, her wine clasped in both her hands. “Well, my article will be on the cover of the magazine next month.” She’s a good friend. She should have started with that. It’s probably the reason for the wine.
“Soph,” I whine. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
She shrugs, but we both know why and the reason is sleeping one off in my spare room.
I clink wine glasses with her before continuing to cook the chicken. “I’m so proud of you. So was this the article on the food trucks?”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t keep her smile from forming if she had her lips nailed shut. “It’s not much and I think I gained about twenty pounds doing the research, but I’ve never had my name on an article that made the cover before.”
“Stop it. You should be so proud, Soph.” I bring my wine glass to my lips and take a small sip.
“Maybe one day I’ll get to New York with those big magazines, but What’s Up L.A. is a start.”
It’s further than I’ve gone since graduation. I wasted three years at Fink and Deed.
“Wait!” She jumps down from the counter.
I wave my hands in the air, nodding in the direction of the back bedroom. Jeez, what am I, thirteen? Sneaking in at three am?
“Sorry.” She lowers her voice. “Didn’t you have a new client meeting today?”
“Next topic, please.” I huff out a sigh of frustration.
She leans against the counter, bringing the glass of wine to her lips. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Let’s just say he gave me a week to make something happen, otherwise he won’t be signing on with me. And get this. He’s so damn fine I could barely sell myself, I was so distracted. At least the businesswoman inside of me was. The other side may have pushed out my t**s and walked with sway in the hopes that he’d forget the dog and throw me over the counter.”
She stifles a laugh, making sure to swallow her wine. “Tee, there’s no way it was that bad. Who was this guy?”
“Leo Vaughn is his name. He started on Etsy and he owns—”
“Canine Couture. I know it. I’ve heard of him.” Her eyes bulge out and she nods her head in rapid fashion.
“Then you know how hot he is?”
Her smile widens further, then a second later it falls completely. “He’s gay.” You’d think she just told me that my boyfriend was cheating on me from the way she’s looking at me.
“Gay? I don’t think so.” I shake my head and stir the chicken around in the pan.
“Seriously. I’ve heard women line up against the wall where he grooms the dogs just to watch him, but that he lives a super-secret life that includes lovers of the male variety.”
“Who did you hear that from? I’m telling you, the man I met today was not gay. His eyes kept dipping to my cleavage.”
She shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s a fact, Tee, he’s gay.”
“My gaydar is usually spot on and I was not getting that vibe from him.” I grab my wine glass and take a healthy sip, more disappointed by this news than I should be.
Sophie shrugs. “You know I’m never wrong about the gossip I help proliferate. Maybe your tit was hanging out.”
I mentally track the meeting. No, I’m ninety-nine percent my boobs were tucked away safely in my bra and my blouse was closed.
“He was probably staring at that small coffee stain.” Sophie points and I look down at my shirt and sigh.
“Oh, jeez, no wonder he didn’t want to give me the job.” I drop the wooden spoon on the stove and reach for a washcloth to try to get the stain out. It isn’t until I’m dabbing at the stain that I recall the words of the older woman who was in the pet spa.
“You’re right. There was a lady in there when I arrived and when she left she said something about Grindr to him. I didn’t even think about it at the time.”
“Told you,” she says, her lips still on her wine glass.
“I’ll have to make sure I look presentable next time I see him. I don’t blame him for not wanting to hire me.”
“I thought you said he’s giving you a week?” she asks.
I give up and toss the washcloth into the sink. Another dry-cleaning bill. “It’s like a hanging sentence. What can I accomplish in a week when I still have to learn his brand? I need at least a month to figure something out. He knows I can’t produce, but this way he doesn’t have to feel bad.”
“Take off the blouse.” Sophie holds her hands out.
I unbutton my shirt, and the air conditioning chills my arms when I strip it off and pass it to Sophie. She grabs the dish detergent from under the sink and starts using all her finger and forearm muscles to get the stain out.
“I’ll help you. I have contacts. What does he want?” she asks as I go back to finishing the stir-fry while she gets my stain out.
“He wants to get his clothing into a pet store, but to do that he needs more visibility that will lead to more sales to show them that there’s a demand for his product.”
She nods. “Okay, give me a few days and I’ll figure something out, because you are going to get this job. And just think, now that you know he’s gay, all that pent-up s****l energy can be focused on the job.”
“He’s really good-looking, Soph.” The spoon drops out of my hand just imagining how his t-shirt tightened on his shoulders when he picked up the dog from the gated area.
“The good ones are always gay. You never see a gay man sitting on a couch with his hand down his pants watching the game.”
“Um…”
We both laugh.
“You know what I mean,” she says. “Regardless, this job is yours, Tee.”
I nod, secretly hoping she’s channeled the future and knows for sure, because Leo Vaughn could put me on the map. I refuse to let another man come between me and success again.
- Writer
