Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (5 page)

"Big sister's gone. Tell me what really happened, Alexia." Irene's voice softened as her concern showed. My big tough sister still had a little bit of marshmallow center left.

"Yesterday was the most wonderful day of my life. One lousy picture has ruined it. Somebody is going to pay, and I hope it's not me."

A tear slid down my cheek. She sat, hugged me, and rubbed my back.

"Nobody makes my sister miserable and lives, except me. Let's go kick some pompous corporate ass."

Hell hath no fury like a crying woman's older sister. She talked nonstop in the car, giving me instructions.

I felt like a boxer before the big prizefight. Aim for the face then cut under to the belly. I nodded at the appropriate times, but my thoughts filled with Ben. He hated my guts by now.

"Thanks for the advice, but I need to do this myself," I said.

We arrived at the office building and parked across the street.

"You find the guy who set you up. I'll raid the fridge and clear out your office." We hurried up the sidewalk, and she opened the door for me. "Gretchen will remember me, right?"

"Adoringly. You got her and her friends into your oh-so-cool bar and allowed them to drink for free. She worships you," I said as we got in the elevator.

"Rightfully so."

Her floor came first.

"Good luck. Don't forget to tear him a new one for me," Irene said, fist bumping me.

I watched the doors close and prepared myself for battle. Which impulse did I find harder to suppress: crying or screaming?

Last week, I had been summoned by Wallace Abram for this charade. Now, I declared it was his turn to be the Internet joke.

I marched to his secretary's desk.

"Alexia Hale to see Wallace Abram."

"Mr. Abram is in conference and cannot be disturbed," she said as she waved me away like a buzzing fly.

"I don't care if he's getting a Brazilian, I'm going in."

I darted around her and opened the meeting room door.

Abram sat, grimly staring at the table, while a thin gray haired man stood and railed at him.

"A private citizen has rights, Mr. Abram. Freedom of the press does not include trespassing. Your photographer behaved as a Peeping Tom or a voyeur," the man said.

"I agree," I said. "Mr. Abram, you lied to me. I'm here to tender my resignation."

"There is no need to quit, unless you want to." Ben swiveled his chair around and faced me. "My attorney, Bill Hanes, is bringing Wally up to snuff regarding the law protecting us from intrusions. Have a seat."

I was so focused on revenge, I didn't notice Ben. I sat and watched as Bill extracted a gallon of sweat from Abram's forehead.

"Our legal counsel will review your complaint, Mr. Cobb," Abram said.

"It won't be necessary. You're being hung out to dry by your bosses. My father sits on the board of the McGlynn Holding Group. He's playing golf with the senior partner of your law firm next week. Go quietly, Wally. Print the apology on the front page tomorrow. In the same spot as the picture and in bold letters. Resign and promise to sin no more," Ben said. "Alexia, are you still quitting?"

"Miss Hale's position was eliminated yesterday as part of a continuing employee cutback program. I'm sure my head was lopped off too. I didn't authorize the photograph. Make sure your lawsuit lists the correct parties involved. Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a number of phone calls to return and an office to box up," Mr. Abram said as he stood.

Double fudge sticks, resigning due to my high moral code would have looked so much better on my resume. Not.

"Have Miss Hale's severance package ready too. Bill, call me with any details. Bye, Wally," Ben said.

Ben stood and put his hand out to me. I accepted it and left with him. I tried to be nonchalant, but my palm sizzled. We passed the stunned secretary and waited for the elevator.

"Are you going back to the kitchen or home?" he asked.

"My sister, Irene, is here. She's helping me pack up," I said, stepping into the elevator.

"I'm sorry this happened Alexia, but you're to blame too. You should have told me the truth. The photographer knew your schedule and waited for us."

"I know. I'm sorry about the whole mess. I thought interviewing you would help my standing here."

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. His world sustained damage by a picture showing off his washboard abs and male prowess? His reputation got kicked up a couple of notches. Mine took a major hit. Time I played some defense.

"Parentage doesn't hurt either. Who knew you would be successful? Who bought your first painting?" I asked.

"The curator of the Louvre. It's in a small gallery by
Winged Victory.
" He unfolded his arms and rocked back on his heels.

No shit.

Did he ever not impress people?

I moved closer to the doors with my back to him.

"You didn't write a word about me," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry I suck at prying into someone else's business," I said over my shoulder.

Did he plan on making fun of me for screwing up a simple task?

"No, I mean you could have described my studio or how I paint or a summary of your experience, but you didn't, even though it would have helped you. A raise or other job offers would have been yours for the asking. I'm told I'd make good copy. "

Was he marveling at my supreme etiquette or sheer stupidity?

"I enjoyed talking to you about your mom's books. I saw it as a private conversation," I said as I faced him.

Except for being nude on the floor at his feet all morning, it was a typical Wednesday for yours truly.

"It takes courage to put principles before profit and to strip for art's sake. I appreciate your discretion about both," he said as he smiled, and his dimple appeared.

"Just because people are famous or wealthy doesn't mean they're on stage all the time." Tell that to the thousands of websites who profit from stolen photos of private moments.

"Are you sure you're in the media business?"

"I like to cook and write about food and help people impress their guests with a new recipe. The gotcha moments I'll leave to the more qualified."

"Beautiful, brave, and eyes of an angel. Miss Hale, you are not of this world." He cupped my cheek and stared at me.

I had nothing to add, but I liked having my ego stroked and soaked in his admiration.

"When are you leaving?" he asked as we stepped off the elevator.

"I have to write a note for Gretchen, make sure Irene didn't steal any paper clips, and clean up."

"I hate goodbyes," Gretchen came around the corner and hugged me.

Irene trotted around the same corner. With her hands clenched into fists, she gave Ben a steely glare. Since Abram wasn't here, she'd vent at the only male available. She passed Gretchen, who had me in a backward Heimlich maneuver. Irene strutted up to Ben, who took a step back and tried to hide a smile. He leaned against the wall and waited for the diatribe.

"Benjamin Nance Cobb, I'm Irene Hale. Who the fuck do you think you are? Half naked and grabbing my sister in public. You should have known the paparazzi follow you around. You should have warned her."

"I'm not responsible for this shitstorm—I was set up by your sister and her former employer. As payment for not getting an interview, she was fired yesterday."

"No fucking way," Irene said.

"Abram just told her. Now, I don't take invasions of my privacy lightly. Because Alexia has an exquisite face and form and will be my only model for years to come, and was used by the idiot management team of this paper, I bear her no ill will." Ben's voice dropped dangerously low as he began to maneuver Irene to the opposite wall. "But if you think I enjoy being the center of attention to sell newspapers, you're sadly mistaken." "Okay, so now what happens?" Irene asked as she crossed her arms.

"My lawyer will sue the paper. I'll donate the settlement to charity. Your bar has an outstanding wine list, and I never would have pegged you as Alexia's sister," Ben said.

"Alexia selected the house wines, and when were you in my bar?" Irene came from suspicious stock. She always searched for an ulterior motive.

"A number of times with friends. I blend in well. Are you the designated family enforcer?"

"Dad's dead, so I'm the token male in the family now."

"No, you're the mother bear protecting her cub. As for me, Alexia is my muse. I haven't drawn well in years. The sketches of her face transcend all my works. She is the woman I have been searching for all my life. Get use to me, Irene. I'm not going anywhere," he said.

Irene's jaw dropped as I broke away from Gretchen and checked my ribs for fractures. She sobbed all the way back to the kitchen.

"I have two questions. Did he say he wants me bad? And is a muse a good witch or a bad witch?" I whispered to Irene.

"First answer, hell yes. Second answer, swing any way he wants. By the way, your stuff was boxed and waiting by the door. And he smells magnificent. Worse news, the fridge was licked clean. You owe me pumpkin pie and monster frosting," Irene said.

"Story of my life."

"I thought you offered me pie and a flaming ghost," Ben said.

"You made a flaming ghost and didn't save any?" Irene asked as she put her hand on her chest. Whom did I offend more?

These two were great training for tag team wrestling
.

"Like the other layoffs one of the guys from the mailroom will bring my stuff to the front desk, and then I'm going home," I said.

They followed me down the hall, an elevator stopped, and the three of us got in.

"May I offer you a ride?" Ben asked.

"Great, I have tons to do, and I gave Alexia a lift. You're doing me a huge favor," Irene shook Ben's hand. "Talk to you later, sweetie."

She kissed my cheek and hopped off the elevator first.

One hot guy and Irene dumped me cold. Both my sisters decided I needed a boyfriend. They were unattached at the moment, why single me out? Eleanor would have done the same thing so both will be banished. Desertion was a crime punishable by deprivation of all things pumpkin and frosted.

"Irene's quite a surprise," he said.

We strolled over and stood by the information desk.

"She's a real peach. You should see her without her mask."

"Ms. Hale, here's your stuff. Do you want me to put it in a cab?" the guy behind the desk asked.

"Thanks, I'll take it." Ben stepped forward and took the bundle. "How about a cup of coffee or lunch?"

I didn't like anybody today, including myself. I wasn't good company, but why refuse. My so-called relationship with him would keep my sisters buzzed for weeks.

"Isn't our date tomorrow?" I asked.

"That's our big date. This is a little date," he said.

I'd bask in his glow for now because I knew I'd wake up and be dressed in rags again soon. Did he mean I would be his model for life as in forever?

"There's a diner that serves thick peppermint milkshakes and greasy hamburgers three blocks down," I said.

"Sounds good."

We strolled out and headed to a parking garage. We loaded his car with my belongings and made our way to the restaurant.

"I want to apologize for everything Irene said. She can be blunt."

"You two don't mince words, and neither do I. I appreciate loyalty. She knew you had been wronged and went after a perceived source. No blood, no foul. Plus you don't seem shocked about being let go." We stopped on the curb and waited for the light to change.

"I'm not. Layoff rumors have been swirling since the paper got bought. My job is the stuff blogs are made of. Everyone posts recipes and food reviews on the web. Did you say your dad was on the board of the McGlynn Holding Group?"

"Yeah, where is this place anyway?"

His dad glowed as the third rail of subjects.

I gestured to the door a block down. "Over there. Reen's Diner has been there for sixty years. It defies all healthy eating guidelines. I thought of paying to apologize, but I'm currently unemployed. "

"Regardless, I always pay. Otherwise women think you're cheap and tell their friends. It's amazing how many women know each other. It can mark a man for life," he said as he opened the door.

"You're right."

We sat in a booth by the window. Sally, according to her nameplate, plopped down two glasses of water on the table.

"What'll you have?" she asked.

He folded the worn and stained menu, set it down, and pointed at me.

"Ladies first."

"I'll have a cheeseburger, medium rare, with grilled onions and jalapeños, fries, and a large peppermint shake."

"Make it two."

She took the menus and winked at me.

I had hit the all-male jackpot.

"Now what will you do?" he asked.

"I have an interview at
Single Chicago
next week. I'm not sure how recent events will affect it. Do you have a job when you're not painting?"

What a stupid question! Mega rich since birth, he didn't need to punch a clock.

"I had meetings scheduled today to discuss my other business concerns. I had to cancel to dispatch Wally. What I need is an assistant to help me manage my life so I can paint more. Know anyone looking for a job?"

"Me, but I don't have any experience doing office work." I put my paper napkin on my lap.

"You look more than able, and it will make scheduling modeling time easier."

"Yeah about that. Are you kidding about the bone structure and muse stuff?"

"No," he said as he reached over and stroked my cheek.

His touch was soft and scorching at the same time. My breathing slowed as he cupped my jaw and brushed his thumb over my lips. I owed Irene tubs of frosting and mountains of pumpkin everything for dumping me in the elevator.

"Enjoy," Sally said as she slid the plates in front of us.

My trance broke as Ben released me. I pretended the tremble rising up my spine didn't churn impure thoughts about him. He licked the whipped cream off the top of his milkshake. I knew what else went well with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Banana, anyone?