Layers (12 page)

“Can we stay in and get drunk? I won’t have the strength to carry you home later after this very long day, and Ian is yet again doing some miserable bastard that will wake up broken-hearted by the conquering Ian-ness.” We both crack up.

“Then staying home and getting drunk it is.” I nod.

~~~

Around midnight, tipsy with the wine I’ve consumed, I lie in my bed wide-awake, thinking about him. His concerned eyes as he looked at me in the hospital come back to haunt me. I take my laptop and type the words “Daniel Stark” and “dates,” in the Google browser, choosing the images option. I’m taken aback by the photos that appear on the screen. All are pictures from different events; none of them are a simple day-to-day picture. In all of them Daniel looks his stunning self, though dressed up mostly in smart suits. All of the women by his side look as though they were taken out of glossy magazines, magazines that do not refrain from massive usage of airbrush: perfect bodies, perfect hair and perfect, plastic smiles. My heart sinks as I keep obsessing over these images.
I never stood a chance
; I know it deep inside now. I am not what he’s looking for.
Are these all call girls? Were all these ladies paid to accompany him to events or is there more to the job description?
I’m repulsed by the thought.
But who am I really kidding here
 …

This is too disturbing; it bothers me on a level that overwhelms me; I close the screen and snuggle under my blanket, shutting my eyes tight, trying to push the images away and force myself to sleep.

Chapter 11: YOU

“Are you coming with me tonight?” Tasha asks hesitantly, as we drink our morning coffee together. Her eyes run over my sleepy face as she waits for my reply.

“Don’t know. I’m not certain how I feel about it,” I reply tentatively. On one hand, I don’t want to go and perhaps run into Daniel, and on the other hand a masochistic part of me wants to go, maybe even too much. Focusing my uncertainty on my mug, I run my finger over its round lip.

“Please, Hales, this would mean so much to me,” she says, lacing her hands around her warm cup.

“I’m not sure I want to meet him.”
And then again, perhaps being a good friend will justify going in my mind as a favor rather than my wish to see him
. I take a sip, looking at her as I do.

“You won’t necessarily have to. There’ll be about a few hundred people there tonight; you could very easily avoid him,” she tries. “And everyone says it’s supposed to be an amazing event. Please.”

“Let’s see how the day goes, shall we? And Tash, begging doesn’t agree with you,” I answer, hoping that my reply will satisfy her for now.

“So, what are you wearing to the meeting?” She changes the subject.

“I think I’ll go with my usual. It’s supposed to be a casual, laid-back place, so I heard. I believe my basic me will do the job.”

Her face is light as she observes me. “Your basic you is more than enough. It’s perfect.”

I beam and send her a kiss through the air.

~~~

YOU
offices are located in the bay area, not far from the notorious Stark Software.
Will everything I do remind me of him?
The thought irritates me.

“Hello.” A young, pink-haired receptionist with too many eyebrow piercings greets me.

“Hello, I’m Hayley Grace. For Mr. Wilde.” I smile, a smile that is left ignored.

“Josh’s office is the last one to the left.” She signals, tipping her chin forward toward a bright, sun-illuminated area consisting of about fifteen open spaces, floor-to-ceiling windows and a floor mosaic pattern in lively contrasting colors lamination.

Gathering that she won’t accompany me to the room, I start walking toward the dark green door. This place has a style that’s 60’s retro yet modern chic; I admire the old framed ads covering the walls. The open space area seems to be deserted. It is noon though. My phone vibrates and I quickly retrieve it out of my deep purple Chanel-style bag. Checking the screen, I click on the envelope icon to find out that it’s a message from Daniel.
Exactly what I needed right now
.

Daniel: Are you coming tonight?

What do you think, genius
? I scowl at the phone. For a young, successful, so-called whiz kid he’s not acting too bright. I tuck the phone back into my purse and decide to disregard it for now, though a small part of me is delighted that he still hasn’t given up.

Knocking on the door in front of me, I hear a male voice on the other side telling me to come in.

“Hello, I’m Hayley Grace,” I say to the person sitting behind a wide screen.

“Hello, Hayley.” He stands up and walks over to me with a grin full of white teeth on his face.
This smile should come with a warning hazard sign: “use leaded glasses in case of direct exposure”.
He extends his hand for a shake. He’s an athletic, handsome Ken doll. My private best friend Barbie, Natasha, would drool over him. Ken doll is checking me out, and I counter with a disturbed grin.
Not so professional, Ken
.

“Have a seat, Miss Grace.” He gestures to an empty chair. I sit down and look around the room as I wait for him to sit as well. The walls are a subtle green tone; behind Josh’s desk is a large framed poster of the movie
American Beauty.
The red of the scattered rose petals is enhanced by the background of the olive wall. To my right the wall is a scattered colorful collage of framed
YOU
magazine covers.

“Do you like what you see?”

I’m a bit distracted by Ken doll’s question.

“The magazine cover décor.” His brows lift as he looks at the wall.

“Yes, I do. I like the style of this room and the offices.” I take another glance at the room.

“Me too. So, Hayley, you’d like to be my assistant. I’m aware of the fact that you’ve already been accepted to
YOU
, but I just thought we could meet before you actually begin.”

“My assistant …”

“Yes, I’m interested in the position of assistant and content specialist,” I answer, businesslike. His lips arch in a small curve as he skims through what looks like my résumé.

“You don’t seem to have any prior experience at a magazine. What makes you think you’d be the right person for me, us?” His face shows delight as though he’s amused by an in-joke.

“I do have some experience working at the university newspaper and I believe I would bring a different perspective.” I square my shoulders. He cocks his head to the side and grins my way, widening his smile at the last part of my answer, waiting for me to go on.

“I like
YOU;
I think it’s fresh and, as opposed to some other magazines in your genre, it doesn’t offend its readers by aiming low.”

“Care to elaborate?” Josh says, looking intrigued. His disturbing smile is finally gone, meaning he’s listening to what I have to say rather than just scrutinizing me. He straightens his posture as I proceed.

“I find the language to be rich.” I inhale. “It seems to have legitimate and well-researched news rather than low level, eye catching yellow journalism for airhead teens.” I play with the metallic band of my watch, sliding it around my wrist.

“That’s one way to put it,” he answers, pondering, then his lips curve up, pleased. “How would you feel about doing dull secretarial work?”

Trying to scare me off, Ken?
“As long as it’s combined in equal measure with interesting creative tasks, I could live with it.” I flash back a smug grin.

“I see,” he murmurs, pensive. “How many hours a week can you work, Hayley? And what’s your availability?”

He’s pleased.

“I can start with seven hours a day for the next couple of months and then I’ll be able to move to full time,” I respond, looking at him, assessing if that’s acceptable to him, and then I add, “In terms of availability, I could start tomorrow.” I’m in a temporary contract with the insurance company; even a day’s notice will be fine.

“So, can you start tomorrow at ten?” Ken doll asks with a promising smile.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” I reciprocate with a nod.

“Then let’s get to the essentials: job detail requirements, salary expectations, you know, the boring stuff,” he says as he takes some papers out of one of his desk drawers.

“Anything to drink before we dig into the nitty-gritty”

“Soda?”

“Which?” He grins at me and opens the minibar next to his desk. It’s packed with different soda cans.

“I already like this place.”

He chuckles.

~~~

Leaving
YOU
, I text Tasha, content.

Meeting went great am in such a good mood that I will go with u tonight.

Tasha: I heart U hard.

On the way home I have an inner debate about whether I should wear my new marvelous Donna Karan dress, or just give it back altogether. I wonder if Daniel picked it up himself. Maybe I shouldn’t wear it since he gave it to me with the intent of wearing it while escorting him to the event.
“Escorting,” how apt.

Daniel,

I’m not sure going to the event with you would be the right thing for me.

Hope you’ll understand.

Perhaps we’ll run into each other tonight.

H

I click send and Daniel replies immediately

Sweet H,

Too bad for me. Does that mean you’ll be there tonight?

DS

DS,

Yes, I’ll be Tasha’s plus one.

H

Sweet H,

One lucky Natasha Taylor. Hope to have the chance to talk to you in person rather than this annoying form of communication.

DS

Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I excited about “perhaps meeting him”? Why do I smile like an idiot each time I get a new message from him?
Can’t you see how wrong he is for you, Hales?

~~~

“So, let’s start getting ready.” Tasha, lying next to me in my bed, playfully smacks my butt. “Will you be wearing your new dress?” she asks, a frisky expression on her beautiful face.

“I think I am. It would be a waste not to. After all, this’ll probably be the only time I get to wear a dress like this.” I beam back at her, excited. “Do you think I should just return it?”

She stares at me for a minute. “Nah …”

“In three, two, one … ready?” she asks, and then adds, joyful as a little kid, “I’m first in the shower.”

“All yours, Missy. Would you do my make up?”

“Yep,” she calls, on her way to the bathroom.
Just like freshman year all over again.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I admire the overall look. I’m especially pleased with the dress: it fits me perfectly. It’s a simple yet very elegantly-cut knee-length dress. Its sweetheart neckline enhances my breasts and I absolutely love it.

“Tash, would you do my makeup now?”

“Wow, look at
you!
Love the dress, Hales,” she says, her expression displaying high admiration.

“I like it too,” I sing, pleased.

“Great job, Missy.” I thank Tasha for her work on my face; she went with dramatic eyeshadow in glittering silver and a shiny reddish lip gloss.

“Turn around,” she commands, and I comply. My wavy hair dances around my back.

“Hales, seriously, you look stunning. I think a certain Mr. Stark will be knocked out when he sees you.”

I can’t stop smirking. Deep in my heart I hope he will be.

Chapter 12: A Night at the Ball

The event is being held at the Hilton’s Grand Ballroom. The main hall is decorated with an enchanted forest theme. As soon as we enter the ballroom it feels as though we’ve stepped into a scene from a Disney movie. There are rows with dense, tall artificial trees, and the ceiling is a soft, pale blue blanket decorated with countless glittering tiny lights. Waiters are dressed up in tuxedos with eye-masks in the shape of animal faces, holding trays with flutes filled with pink champagne. The floor is a soft green grass rug with pebble-framed trails by its borders. I am overwhelmed, taken with the atmosphere and the beauty of the place.

“Let’s get a drink,” Tasha proposes, looking as impressed as I am by the surroundings. “Cheers.” We clink our glasses of sweet bubbly. Tasha next directs me to a group standing on a corner by a blue brick wishing-well engraved with flowers.

Wearing her sociable persona, Tasha introduces me to the people in the group. I seem to already know at least basic details about each and every one of them given the thorough executive briefing she made sure to prepare me with. I find myself idly in conversation with Tasha’s manager, who is a good distraction from my restless thoughts; I talk to him and gaze around.

There’s an instant pang in the center of my chest when I spot him, standing by the bar, all the way across the ballroom from where we are. He’s wearing a black suit with a crisp white button-down shirt, looking poised yet roughened with his no-fuss hair tousled in golden waves and his faint but permanently sinful look. He’s talking to a group of people. It appears as though he’s annoyed with them.
How come that doesn’t surprise me?
I spot Miss Bally, Daniel’s PA, among the group looking stressed, bobbing her head in sharp nods of consent to whatever he’s telling her.
She could easily double for those dogs on taxi dashboards
 …