Blogger Girl (8 page)

Afraid that continuing to look at his albums would do more harm than good, I decided to do a brief perusal of his recent wall posts. I vowed to only check what was visible on the first screen and not under any circumstances, scroll farther down by clicking “older posts.” It made me feel better to impose at least minimal conditions on my stalking experience.

It was interesting to note that he did not update his status too often. At least from what I could gauge from my limited investigation, there were no updates about what he ate for dinner, or a play-by-play of his daily activities. The last update was that he practically ran smack into Brett Michaels walking down Sullivan Street. I sort of hoped he’d show signs of being at least slightly dorky so I wouldn’t feel immensely less cool but no, he had perfected subtlety to a science. But at least he hadn’t tagged himself in any status updates with Mary Jones.

My stomach grumbled and I decided it was a sign that I should quit while I was ahead and make something for dinner before his status suddenly changed to “in a relationship.” But as I stood up, I noticed a new notification at the top of my page that I’d received an email. When I opened the message and saw it was from Hannah, my mouth went dry. Opting not to put off the inevitable, I read it:

Hi Kim,

Long time, no see! Thanks for accepting my friend request. I hope all is well and look forward to catching up with you at the reunion. You’re going right? Can’t wait!

Best,

Hannah

My heart was pounding. She didn’t even mention
Cut on the Bias
. Did she think I was stupid? Like I hadn’t put two and two together as to why, after ten years, she would suddenly initiate a friendship with me? I shook my head in disbelief. If she had any respect for me at all, she would have come clean and at least mentioned our mutual interest in chick lit. It might have even made me question my reluctance to review her book. After all, it had been a decade since we shared the same hallways in high school. She might have matured from the girl who enthusiastically urged me to join the drama club the year they were performing
The Wizard of Oz
since I was
so
talented, but also because I wouldn’t even need a costume to play one of the munchkins. Instead, her transparent phoniness convinced me that time had not changed her one bit.

I fucking hated Facebook.

“I’LL BRING THE PROSECCO,”
Bridget said.

“Cool. I’ll pick up cheese and crackers and some frozen hors d’oeuvres at Fairway.” I was on the phone with Bridget discussing the pre-game party for the reunion.

“Sounds good, but don’t bring anything too filling. I don’t want to be so full from food that the booze has no effect. I must be pleasantly tipsy when we get to the main event! And I also don’t want my dress to feel tight or show any gut from too much eating.”

Picturing Bridget’s size-4 body, I rolled my eyes, “What gut?”

“Everyone looks fat compared to you, K.”

“Bridge, I might be about 15 pounds thinner than you but I’m also 4 inches shorter. That makes us equally thin and I’m actually bigger since my tits probably weigh about 5 pounds each.”

“Oh, please rub that in while you’re at it,” Bridget said sarcastically. “You’re still wearing the black wrap dress with the plunging neckline and long slit down the side, right?”

“That’s the plan.” Since I couldn’t show off a husband and kids or brag about a high paying and exciting career, I wanted to at least look hot.

“Cool. I wanted to confirm before I aired out my racy number.”

“I can’t wait to see you in that dress! You’re gonna look smokin’! Even Hannah will be left speechless.”

“Speaking of Hannah, did you respond to her email?” Bridget asked with a catch in her voice.

“Nope! And I’m not going to.” After mulling it over ad nauseam, I realized that for once, I had the power over Hannah. Although I had never needed her back in high school to propel me to popularity since I was quite happy with my social status, it would have been nice if she hadn’t constantly found something to rag on about Bridget and me. And she always found a way to say things discreetly enough so as to not bring any negative attention to herself in the process. I remembered one instance in gym class when we were choosing teams for softball. Hannah was captain of one team and one of my friends was captain of the other. Our friend had already chosen me for her team and was probably going to select Bridget on her next turn. Even though some of Hannah’s cronies were eager to be on her team, Hannah shocked almost everyone by picking Bridget. She loudly told her pouting groupies that Mrs. Dervish, our gym teacher, had asked her to pick some of the “less popular girls” first to make them feel important, but I always knew she had done it to purposely keep Bridget and I apart. Ten years later, I quite liked the thought of making her sweat over the book review.

“Atta girl! I’m high-fiving you through the phone,” Bridget said happily.

I raised my left hand in a one sided high-five. “Back at you. By the way, I know you’ve got the Prosecco covered but I doubt Jonathan will drink it. Do you have any beer? Or vodka? Or anything that doesn’t sparkle?”

As I heard the flick of a lighter, Bridget asked, “Jonathan’s definitely pre-gaming with us?”

“Yeah. Pete and Andy had no desire to meet up first and Jonathan was too lazy to plan his own tailgate so I talked him into joining us. That way, we’ll walk in a united front. You don’t mind, do you?” I had forgotten to mention it to Bridget assuming she’d be okay with it, but since it was her apartment and not mine, I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt.

“No worries,” Bridget said, exhaling deeply. “The more the merrier. And we’ll be a united
drunk
front.”

“True that.” Relieved she wasn’t annoyed I had invited Jonathan, I decided not to complain about her smoking again.

“Nothing that sparkles though, huh? I guess that leaves out ‘Goldschlager?’”

Smiling, I said, “He’d probably drink it but I’ll tell him to bring his own alcohol just in case, okay?”

“’K, K.”

“Watch it. One more K and you’d be in trouble!”

***

“Stepping away,” I said to Rob over speaker phone.

“I’ll try to hold down the fort without you,” he replied dryly.

“Not possible, boss man. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

Rob laughed. “Don’t forget that the next time I need you to oversee a large copy job.”

“Hardy har har.” I hung up the phone and stood up, wincing when my toes pressed against the front of my new leopard printed flats. It was casual Friday and I decided to leave my heels at home, wrongly assuming that flats would be more comfortable. They weren’t. Steve Madden shoes had historically disagreed with me but these were so cute and looked perfect with my skinny jeans.

After limping down the hallway, I stopped in front of Nicholas’ office, tried to breathe easily despite the fluttering of my heart, and knocked lightly on his door.

He looked up and gave me a wide grin. “Come on in.”

I sat down, my heart still thumping at an annoyingly fast rate. “So, it’s Rob’s 54
^th
birthday next week.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Damn, I can’t believe he’s that old. Seems so much younger.”

“Must be the trophy wife.”

Nicholas offered a bemused smile. “That or the running with the bulls. Seriously. Who does that at his age?”

“Who does that at any age?” I giggled. “Anyway, I wanted to plan a lunch for him and figured you might have some suggestions as to where we should go.” Looking at him, I swore he had gotten even cuter overnight. And his trademark scruff, always irresistible, was slightly thicker than usual giving him a sexy, “just rolled out of bed” look. I genuinely wanted his advice regarding the birthday lunch and didn’t want to ask him over the phone in case Rob overheard. I probably could have emailed him instead of discussing it face-to-face, but his face was just so damn cute.

Nicholas looked pensive for a moment before responding. “Well, we should definitely go somewhere around here. Rob doesn’t like to stray too far from the office. What about Primehouse? Or that new Lebanese place down the street? Or Duo? How many people are we including?”

“We? Who said you were invited? I asked for your input. Doesn’t mean I want your company,” I joked.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Exploiting me for my foody expertise?” Feigning hurt, he curled his lips into a frown.

I was momentarily mesmerized by the thought of nibbling on his pouty lips but forced myself to stop staring. “Yeah, I heard you were a walking Zagat guide.”

“Nah. But I do write many reviews for Yelp. They even gave me Elite reviewer status.” Nicholas smiled wide as if amused by what he’d said.

His grin was contagious and I smiled back. “Impressive! See I might be just a secretary, but I’m a very resourceful secretary.”

Narrowing his eyes at me, he said, “You’re not just a secretary, Kimmie.”

My stomach flip-flopped at his use of a nickname. “Oh yeah, I’m also a stellar book reviewer.”

Placing his elbows on the desk and leaning towards me, he said, “I bet you could also be a stellar book
writer
if you tried.”

Raising my voice, I said, “I told you I wasn’t interested in that!” I felt my face get warm and decided that emailing him would have been a much better idea.

Nicholas squinted at me. “Yes, you did. Sorry.”

I slipped my feet out of my shoes for temporarily relief. “Anyway, what about you? Was it your lifelong dream to be an attorney?”

Nicholas shook his head. “Not quite.”

Good. Time to turn the tables. “So how did you get here?”

His eyes twinkling, Nicholas said, “The condensed version or the truth?”

“The truth please,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Nicholas chuckled and then lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “The truth is I always wanted to be like my dad when I was little. He’s a doctor, though, and I get queasy at the sight of blood so that wasn’t an option.” Nicholas blushed and scratched his head. “Since I’ve always been a good liar, I figured law was a good match.” He laughed again. “Anyway, it’s a good fit for me and I honestly like what I do. The hours suck but at least the salary is good. Minus the loans I’ll be paying off for the next thirty years.”

I looked at Nicholas in admiration. I had never thought too much about being successful. Many teachers had told my parents my Bs could be As if I applied myself but I never wanted to prove them wrong and was more than happy to get by without killing myself or letting anyone down. I wasn’t about to admit that to Nicholas. Pointing at the law school diploma hanging on his wall, I said, “And so here you are. Nicholas Strong, Esquire.”

Nicholas nodded. “Yup.”

“And you’re happy. “

He smiled softly. “Mostly. Like I said, I think it’s a good fit. But there are other things I’d rather get paid to do.”

I leaned forward. “For instance?”

“Manage bands. Or a talent scout. Something like that. Unfortunately I didn’t know what I wanted to be until I was already something else. Too late now.”

“It’s never too late,” I said assuredly.

“I suppose not,” Nicholas said, smiling.

I could have easily ended the conversation at that point and Rob was probably wondering where I was, but I didn’t want to leave yet. “So, my high school reunion is tomorrow night.”

Nicholas’ face brightened. “You excited?”

“Yes and no,” I answered truthfully.

“Hmm.” He looked at me with interest. “Tell me more.”

I shrugged. “There are some people I’m psyched to see after all of these years. People I liked. And don’t judge, but I’m genuinely looking forward to seeing how many girls got fat.”

Nicholas made a scratching motion with his fingers. “Meow!”

I giggled. “It is what it is.”

Nicholas shook his head at me, but his eyes were smiling. “Girls will be girls. So, why
aren’t
you looking forward to it?”

“One guess.”

Nicholas tapped the tip of his nose and looked thoughtful. “Unrequited crush?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

Giving me a knowing look, he said, “Cuz all the guys liked you back, huh?”

Chuckling, I said, “Not exactly.”

Nicholas stared me down in silence for a moment before lifting and lowering his shoulders. “I give up.”

“Hannah ‘queen bitch’ Marshak!”

Looking confused, Nicholas said, “Who is Hannah Mar…” Then his eyes widened. “Oh wait. You mean Writer Chick? Seriously?”

I sighed. “Yes, seriously.”

Furrowing his brow, he said, “That’s ridiculous. She’s only one person out of your entire graduating class.”

I touched my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes. “I still can’t believe she wrote a fucking book.” I opened my eyes to find Nicholas studying me. “What?”

“So, she wrote a book. So what? Why do you care so much?”

“I really don’t like her, Nicholas.”

He kept his stare on me. “Clearly. But at least you’re not in high school anymore. Once you review the book, you’ll never have to see her again.”

Until she writes another book.
I looked down at the carpet in dread. “I actually haven’t confirmed that I’m going to read it.”

Nicholas gave me a stern look. “You’re a book reviewer. Review it like you would anyone else’s book. You’re a professional.” His face relaxing into a smile, he said, “Suck it up, Kimmie.”

I felt my face burn. “You don’t understand.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Okay. Then don’t even read the book and give it a shitty review.”

“I can’t do that.”
Could I?