Emma vs. The Tech Guy (14 page)

I wandered through various shops instead of heading straight back. I finally realized the reason I didn’t want to go back to my room. Being alone was not my favorite, unless it was by choice.

Soon the stale, smoky, artificial environment got to me, and I needed some fresh air. I made my way out of the hotel. The sun had gone down, but the heat still lingered in a slightly diminished state. But at least the air was real and somewhat clean. I sat on the edge of a brick planter box and watched as the bright lights danced across the sky. I watched as patrons entered and exited the hotel, assigning each their own past or future.

After a while, I noticed a man holding a drink weaving towards me. He sat near me and downed the last of the dark-colored liquid through the ice. He wiped his forehead, set the drink on the edge, and rested his hands on his knees. He looked familiar, and when he turned his head to me, I realized who he was.

“Aren’t you the guy who waited on me earlier?”

“Yeah. You were my last table. Just got fired, so thanks for the generous tip.”

His eyes were glazed over, and I figured the drink he’d finished wasn’t his first—third was more like it. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m Denny,” he said. He wasn’t bad-looking for being sloppy drunk.

“Emma.” My face flushed for a second when I realized I’d almost given him a fake name. Was my natural instinct to lie? I hoped the answer was no—that this was a stranger and my instinct was protective only.

“Don’t you want to know why?” His words came out slurred.

“Why what?” My inner analysis had me confused.

“Why I got fired?”

I didn’t want to know. “It’s none of my business.”

“I was late. Three strikes and you’re out!” He jabbed a finger to the sky like an umpire.

“So you were late three times?”

He turned his body toward me, folded his arms. “I have a kid. Shared custody. My ex-wife was late picking her up. Always is. This was actually my fourth time being late, but last time someone covered for me.” He displayed a mischievous smile at the memory.

“Sorry to hear that. It must be a tough situation.”

“It sucks!” He shook his head and stared at me. Maybe the surprise on my face registered because his eyes grew wide and he added, “I love my daughter, everything else just sucks, you know?”

I nodded, but turned my attention back to the strip. We sat in silence for a few minutes, and I wondered how much longer I should sit there before getting up. I’m not sure why I cared about etiquette with an inebriated stranger, but something about him touched me. He picked up his drink and swirled the melting ice. I was about to get up when he spoke again.

“We’re good people, you and me.” He pointed at me with his glass.

I nodded. “Yep.”

“If we had more money, we could do good things for people. Not like some of these friggin’ assholes. They’ve got tons of friggin’ money and they just act like friggin’ assholes.”

I didn’t know how to respond, but he had a point. So I said the only thing that came to me. “Friggin’ assholes.”

“See, you know what I’m talking about.”

I was by no means rich, but I had a hell of a lot more than that guy, so I dug in my purse and took out a fifty dollar bill. “I’m sorry about your job. This isn’t much, but I want you to have it.”

He reached over and took it, stared at it like it was foreign currency. “You’re one special lady.”

I got up and looked down on him. “Good luck to you.”

His voice caught me as I walked away, and I turned on a heel.

“Wanna get a drink?” he said. He held up the fifty I’d just given him. “On me.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “No thanks,” I said and walked back into the hotel.

Chapter 15

We had planned to split up on the second day, each attending a different workshop or training session first thing in the morning. Then we’d meet up for lunch and attend a couple of breakout sessions together in the afternoon. I was pleasantly surprised at how fascinating I found it all. And it wasn’t as mind-boggling as I’d thought it was going to be. Things I didn’t fully understand were usually maddening to me. Don’t even get me started on how a stinking camera works. It’s like magic. Anyway, having Guy to bounce questions off of had helped a ton. I gained a new respect for his ability to grasp the information as well as explain how it was pertinent to our particular situation.

After grabbing a muffin and a huge coffee at a vendor cart, I headed to my assigned boardroom. I chose an empty table and sat down, thankful to have the spot to myself. I spread out my things as an added deterrent in case anyone had the idea of buddying up with me and prepared myself for the long presentation. I’d be taking notes as I’d done before, even though a portion of it would be reinforcing concepts I’d already heard.

Cold air was pumping out above me, and though it was sweltering outside, I’d been smart enough to bring a light sweater. As I draped it over my shoulders, a clicking sound caught my attention. A woman with short, wavy hair sat diagonally from me, tapping away at a mini-laptop. Her nails were beautifully manicured, but way too long for keyboarding. I wasn’t the only one staring at her. After a few more seconds of what sounded like an army of kittens traipsing across a tile floor, she stopped and gazed in my direction. She had puffy lips and a rack to match. A tiny laugh escaped her, and she shrugged and went right back to it. The thought of listening to that for the next few hours made me cringe. I scanned the room for an empty spot further away from Edna Scissorhands when the table shook. I turned to find Guy plopping down in the seat across from me.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I said.

“Mine was cancelled, so I thought I’d join you,” he said.

Before I had time to ponder why he came to mine and not Adam’s, he spoke again.

“I heard some of the others mention food poisoning.”

“Ooh, bummer.” I pushed my mess aside and made room for Guy’s stuff. I was relieved he didn’t ask why I was hogging the whole table. Maybe he figured it was just another one of my domestic shortcomings.

The moderator took her spot behind the podium, while I peeled back half of my banana-nut muffin and pushed it over to Guy on a napkin. He flashed me a smile and took it without words. I was probably better off not eating the whole thing anyway.

About two hours into the presentation, we took a pee break. After that huge latte I’d drunk, it was much needed. We both stood and stretched along with most of the other attendees. We’d been sitting still for so long it was like we were all a bunch of zombies waking from the dead.

“I’m gonna ….” I pointed to the doorway so I wouldn’t have to provide detail.

The restroom was colder than our boardroom, if that was even possible. Didn’t these people know there was a financial crisis going on? In the stall I pulled the last seat protector out and placed it over the toilet. Frigid air spilled down on me, creating gooseflesh on my thighs as I pulled my pants part way down. I couldn’t let the bottoms of my pant legs touch the floor. I just couldn’t. The thought alone was enough to make me want to strip naked and burn them in acid. No, I didn’t think I was a germaphobe per se. I merely didn’t want anything of mine touching what about a million feet stepped on. So, as I had always done, I held them up while they were down. Don’t ask, it’s a skill.

A second before I placed my bare butt on that toilet, the air blew the paper protector off and right into the water. I tried to grab for it, but it was too far gone.

“Crap!”

With my pants still half-way down and one hand keeping them from touching the floor, I rolled out three squares of toilet paper and placed them on the left side of the seat. I went to repeat this process for the right, when the air blew that into the toilet too. I glanced up and around my stall, certain I was being punked. This was going to be a ridiculous challenge. Once again I rolled out three squares of toilet paper and placed them on the left side. I held them in place with my left hand. This was where my sheer coordination came in. With my elbow securing my pants in place, I grabbed another three-square strip with my right hand and put it in place. Great, now I had it all covered, but was facing the wrong way.

How I managed to get turned around and still sit down on that paper, I couldn’t explain. But I can tell you that I didn’t need to burn my pants. As I sat there, I saw a pair of black heels enter the stall next to me. I heard the ripping sound of the seat protect being pulled out of its holder. A second later, a strained whisper came from the stall.

“Damn.”

“No shit,” I said, and left with a guilty smile. Good luck.

I sped out the door after a thorough washing and collided with a man walking by.

“Geez, sorry.” I looked up to find my drunken ex-waiter from the night before.

“Hey, it’s you,” he said.

“Hey, Denny?”

He beamed at my recognition. “Yeah, you remembered. Emma, right?”

“You got it.”

“A much bigger feat considering my condition last night.” His smile faded. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, really. You definitely had an excuse.”

“Well, I’m glad I ran into you, literally. I came to pick up my last check. I wanted to say thank you, for the talk and the money.”

“You’re welcome.” I sensed a compliment coming, and I braced myself for the hit.

“Seriously, your kindness really touched me; gave me hope that there are people out there who care.”

Not exactly a compliment but damaging all the same. I opened my mouth, hoping it would work automatically. Instead my body did something surprising on its own. I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around him.
What the hell am I doing?
It felt like something a people person would do. We hugged for about five seconds, when I saw Guy over his shoulder walking back to the board room. I flung myself backward like we were two opposite magnets. “Uh, well, I’ve gotta get back. Good luck with the job search.”

His face exhibited confusion and contentment at the same time. “Yeah, thanks. Well, it was great meeting you, Emma. Take care.”

Guy’s eyes caught me at the entrance to the room. It was like his gaze had been guarding the door waiting for me. I turned away, focused on the click-clack girl, as I walked toward our table. I sat, avoiding his stare, and checked my phone for messages from Howard or the office.

“Well?” Guy said.

“Well, what?” My eyes fixed on his with contention.

It was as though he smelled my awkwardness, like he somehow knew it was out of character for me and planned to take full advantage. “Who was Mr. Huggy-boy out there?” He seemed to fight back a smile.

Determined not to let him get the better of me, I decided to give it right back to him. “Oh, that was just Denny … my waiter.”

His half smile quickly faded and his brows knitted together. “What?”

“Hey! Whoppers.” I just noticed a box sitting on the table. “Those are my favorite.”

He paused, obviously deciding whether or not to give up the Denny conundrum. “I know.”

Now I was the one pausing. Had I somehow forgotten that I’d mentioned it? I didn’t remember any of my attempts to brush him off ending in, “By the way, Whoppers are my favorite.” I probably shouldn’t have asked, but couldn’t resist. “How do you know?”

“Well,” he sat back in his chair, “twice I’ve seen an empty box in your waste basket. And, at our last office meeting, that was the first thing you grabbed from the pile. Like you scored a little treasure by the smile on your face.”

That observation seemed to put a light in his eyes, which made me blush. And I was floored. Either he was like some kind of Jason Bourne or he was really interested in my eating habits. Or, maybe I was such a major oinker when it came to chocolate that who wouldn’t notice, right? Whatever, I felt my face go from flush to a hot red neon sign. I think there was even a cartoon arrow pointing to my head with the word “awkward” floating by. I attempted to smile it away.

“Wow, you’re very perceptive.”

I leaned forward to reach for the box. Guy snapped forward, racing me to it. He grabbed my wrist and caused the rest of my body to match the temperature of my face.

“Hey, I never said those were for you,” he said.

He peered into my eyes with my wrist still in his grasp. I wasn’t wondering what to do or even what he was thinking. It was as if we were frozen in time, unable to move until the magic forces released us. My breath came faster, and I thought I heard my own heart beating. At last, I felt his hand ease up and gently slide off of mine. The corners of his mouth slowly rose.

“I’m only teasing you. Go ahead.”

I picked up the box and backed away cautiously, our eyes still connected. I took a deep, cleansing breath. “Thanks.” Then I tore into that sucker and poured out a handful. I closed the box and slid it back over to Guy. Neither of us noticed the moderator had started back up. We both giggled and scrambled to find our notes.

At about four o’clock I began to get restless. I sat cross-legged in the chair and my right foot was asleep. I scanned the room to find that there were more empty seats than when we’d started. Even the happy tapper was MIA. I noticed Guy appeared a bit too jovial for the dry setting. He sneaked a glance at me and snickered when he saw me watching. What was he up to?

My phone vibrated on the table, and I snatched it up suspiciously. A text from Guy with a link to a website, Recipes for the Undomestic Goddess.
Very frickin’ funny!
I chucked two malt balls at his head. One bounced off his forehead and landed in his lap. The other missed completely and went bouncing across the tile floor, garnering a few head turns along the way. He laughed and ate the one in his lap. I ducked my head down to avoid the annoyed stares from a group next to us. Then I grabbed my phone and texted back.

Why aren’t you taking notes?

I already have the whole presentation
, came his reply.

How did you get it?

I just asked the moderator before we started, and she emailed it to me
.