Kat Fight (7 page)

I blush at the compliment and nervously look away, only to notice Adam standing with two other co-workers pointing at me from six cubes over. I give him my best “what the hell?” face, and turn my attention back to Ryan who’s leaning against one of the wobbly cubicle walls all relaxed and irresistible.

“So,” he starts. “How about that date?”

“Yes, great. What works for you?” I inquire, as my cheeks get warm.

“I was thinking I could cook dinner for you.” He crosses his arms.

“That’d be awesome, I love dinner.”

“Good to know.” He grins and then reaches in his front pocket for his phone. “How about next weekend, are you free?”

Next weekend is Rob and Emma’s wedding, where I will be reunited with Marc after months of radio silence. I have put way too much thought into this event, and literally imagined no less than fifty different scenarios regarding what it will be like the first time I see him again.

Scenario one
: I walk in late—hair straightened to silky perfection—as he spots me from across the room. He immediately ends the conversation he’s having with a five-foot-ten blonde and runs to embrace me.

Scenario two
: Marc is four bites into his chicken kiev when I arrive two hours late—yet dressed to the nines. He drops his fork, hurries to my side, where we stand gazing into each other’s eyes for a full minute before he kisses me.

Scenario three:
Marc decides to bring a date to the wedding and has to leave early because someone accidentally pours hot gravy down the front of her dress.

“I have a wedding to go to on Friday night, but I’m free Saturday,” I tell Ryan.

“Then Saturday it is. Any food aversions I should be aware of?” he asks.

“Just fruits, vegetables and salad.” I smile and fold my hands in my lap.

“Perfect. A girl after my own taste buds.” He places his phone back in his pocket and stands upright. I want to thank him. Not just for dinner, but for giving me something to look forward to.

“And there’s no need to pick me up since I know where you live,” I say.

“I’d be happy to arrange for a car service if you’d like,” he jokes.

“Just let me know what time to be there and then expect me about fifteen minutes after that.” He may as well get used to my tardiness.

“Six forty-five, then.”

“Perfect.”

I catch myself staring at his butt when he walks away. Not really on purpose, just sort of instinctively. He’s really attractive from all sides and one can’t help but notice. It’s then I realize Adam and his gaggle of morons are also staring at Ryan’s backside.

Come hither!

I text Adam.

I’m busy.

He responds.

I see u!

I say.

K, one sec

He replies.

Adam continues chatting with the other women and finally wraps up his chatter with one last belly-clutching guffaw before heading back to me. He’s lucky he has an
in
with the boss is all I can say.

“So?” he inquires and parks himself on my desk.

“He’s making dinner for me Saturday night,” I announce with a high-five and a shaky spin in my desk chair.

“Oh, he’s good,” Adam remarks.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask.

“He’ll get you toasted and back to his place without ever actually taking you out. I’m impressed.”

“Well, we don’t
call him
The Chef
behind his back
for nothing.”

“You’re right.
We
don’t call him The Chef behind his back; Julie does,” Adam corrects me with a chuckle.

He’s right. Julie coined him The Chef, and I really have no reason to be throwing around her nicknames with such blithe effort. “Thanks for the reminder.” I turn my attention to my email screen.

Adam can tell he’s hit a nerve with me, so he presses on. “Which begs the question, when are you going to mention this to her?” He attempts to satisfy his inquiring mind.

“I figure I should see if Ryan and I are compatible first. Why freak Julie out if there’s no reason to. Maybe we won’t get along, or I’ll offend him with my poor manners.”

“Or your breath,” he snickers. “I just wouldn’t be so careless about it, you know how she is, that one. If Julie were to find out about this date before you tell her, you can only imagine how fast you will have to run to avoid her wrath.”

I drop my head back and squint at the fluorescent lighting above me. Adam is entirely right; I’ve been selfish with my feelings for Ryan and there is every indication that it could blow up in my face.

“The honest truth is that I really don’t know what to do. In some respects, I never really thought he would ask me out I guess.”

“No need to play coy,” he says. “Ryan doesn’t strike me as the type of guy who’d pit two friends against each other, on purpose anyway. So maybe Julie’s perception of the relationship is different than his. You should find out.”

“I will,” I assure him, and place my head back in a much more comfortable position. “As it turns out, this weekend is becoming quite eventful,” I say. “Friday I will be reunited with Marc at Rob and Emma’s wedding, and forced to lie to Julie and Beth about my plans on Saturday, which, despite the clandestine nature, I’m
very
excited about.”

“Well I’m booking you for brunch on Sunday then. And that, I am very excited about.”

“As you should be.” I nod.

My affection for Ryan has taken a great deal of pressure off seeing Marc again, although it may not be enough of a distraction once I have to face him in person.

Just then my phone rings and Adam and I both clamor to see who it is.

“Julie!” we gasp in unison.

“Fancy that,” he remarks and gestures for me to answer it with a wave of his hand.

I grab the receiver on the last ring. “Hello, this is Kat.”

“Hey, it’s me and I’m in the lobby. I was going to come up and see you… and coincidentally bump into Ryan, if you catch my drift,” Julie informs me as I glance over at Adam.

“Well, right now is not the best time—I’m heading into a meeting in two minutes,” I say and cross my fingers.

She sighs into the phone. “Damn, I guess I should have called earlier but I’m out running an errand and didn’t realize I’d be near your building today.”

“Shoot, yeah, now just isn’t a good time,” I repeat and lean my body away from Adam who’s trying to shove his head next to mine in hopes of hearing the conversation firsthand.

“You sure you don’t have five minutes?” She double checks.

“I wish I did.”

“Bummer, all right, call me later.” She signs off.

Adam crosses his arms. “What was that all about?”

I slam the phone down. “She’s in the lobby and wanted to come up here to see Ryan.”

“So she’s gone now?” he asks me.

I grab a rubber band from the top drawer and pull my hair up into a ponytail. “Yes, and let me tell you, that was a little too close for comfort. I’m sweating.”

“That’s pretty,” he says and squeezes my hand. “Well you may have dodged a bullet this time, but you better watch yourself, little one; it’s time to come clean.”

“No need to remind me.” I release my lungs.

Adam stands up and peers over the top of my cubicle before leaving. But before he does, his eyes narrow as though he’s trying to focus on something. “I take it back,” he informs me and quickly squats down like he’s in an army bunker.

“Take what back?”

“You’ve been shot.” He continues to crouch down and hide. “She’s here!”

“What?” I jump to my feet and sure enough Julie is standing in our reception area. I then swiftly join Adam on the floor.

“That was quick! What is she doing here? I said it wasn’t a good time,” I cry out and throw myself back against the makeshift wall.

“Not taking no for an answer, I guess,” he says. “This is too good to miss, so I’m going back to my desk where I have a much better vantage point.” Adam scrambles to his feet, cool as a cucumber and leaves me in his dust.

“Wait,” I scream silently, but it’s too late.

I wait for Carrie, our receptionist, to buzz me, thinking that when she does I will scurry up there and let Julie know that I’m just about to go into my meeting.

I reach up, grab my cell phone and a notepad from the top of my desk, and wait.

Still waiting.

Carrie is a notorious flake but this is taking much longer than usual. I slowly elevate myself off the floor and catch a glimpse of Julie and Ryan walking back to his office. Reactively I sit back down.

WTF?!?!?!?!?

I text Adam.

Game on.

He replies.

She didn’t even ask for me?

I question her boldness.

Doesn’t need u

He texts back.

What should I do?

I ask.

Start pulling hair.

He suggests.

Should I walk over there?

I ask.

You said you were in a mtg.

He reminds me.

I pick up the office phone and ring Adam’s desk. “What is going on?” I beg him for some information considering he can see Ryan’s office from where he sits.

“They’re standing in his office,” he tells me.

“Can you believe her?”

“What’s the big deal? She wanted to see him, and it probably took her all of two seconds to realize that she’s a big girl and could come up here and do what she wanted all on her own.”

“Well, what if she walks back here and sees that I’m not in a meeting.”

“That’s not likely. She doesn’t look very interested in you at the moment,” he says. “Hold on, they’re walking toward the front now.”

“Are they coming my way?”

“I just said they’re walking to the front,” he snaps.

“Just tell me when she’s gone.”

“Looks like they’re making out on Carrie’s desk.”

“I hate you.”

“She’s gone and lover boy is headed your way.” Click.

I spastically stand up, hang up, and start clicking around my computer screen desperate to find something that resembles work.

“Hey.” Ryan’s voice comes around the corner before he does.

“Oh, hey there,” I greet him looking clueless and feigning a pleasant surprise.

He points at me with a questionable look on his face. “I thought you weren’t here,” he ponders.

“What do you mean?” I swivel to face him.

“Did you see who was just here?” he asks and puts his hands in his pockets.

“No, who?” I’m ashamed at my ability to lie. The inflection in my voice alone could get me arrested for something.

“Julie was just here, at the office. She said she stopped by to see you, but you weren’t at your desk, so she paged me,” he says.

Since I lied to her first, I don’t feel entirely justified in being annoyed by her lie. “Oh,” I say. “That’s weird, maybe I was at the printer when she walked over here.”

“I didn’t really know what to say to her.” He looks at me like he wants some sort of an answer to that statement.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

He removes one hand from his pocket and turns his palm upwards. “I didn’t know if you told her I asked you out or not.”

I bite my tongue, so I don’t spew out the truth—No! Of course I haven’t told her. Can’t you see through me to the way back of my insecure head where I store all of my baggage? Of course I haven’t said anything to Julie because she’s probably going to freak out on me and I will have no idea how to deal with it. I can’t stand when people are angry with me. It makes me want to crawl into a hole and behave like a toddler.

After a beat, I answer him. “No, I haven’t. Did you tell her?” I ask nervously.

“No.” He hesitates. “Are you going to?”

“At some point, yes,” I assure him.

“Do you want me to say something to her?” he offers.

“No. Nope. That’s fine, I mean, no,” I reiterate. “I will say something to Julie.”

He nods his head with little confidence. “Okay, good, because that was a little awkward and I don’t want this to cause any tension between you two.”

“Of course,” I answer, not wanting him to rescind his dinner invitation. “I haven’t had the right opportunity yet, given that we just made plans,” I say and clench my teeth.

“Yeah, of course, I just didn’t know if you’d mentioned anything the other night, after the Hunt Club.”

“I didn’t,” I tell him.

“Okay,” he says and then stands there for a moment trying to make sense of everything before giving me one last nod and walking away.

Rob and Emma’s wedding is tonight, and because it’s a Friday, I’m stuck spending the day at work rather than getting my nails done.

Much to my delight, Adam approaches my desk with a Tazo tea and a peanut butter Twix for me around three o’clock. “For you, my dear,” he says and sets them on my desk.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.”

“So, tonight’s the big night,” Adam says. “The wedding is finally upon us. I expect to be updated on the hour.”

“I’m sure you’ll be hearing from me plenty,” I say and tear through the candy wrapper.

“I’m still free, you know,” he offers. “My tux is always pressed and ready.”

“Sorry, but my invitation didn’t say ‘
Kat Porter and Guest
’ otherwise you would have absolutely made the cut.”

“How are you getting there?”

“Julie and Beth are picking me up at six,” I manage to say through a crumbly cookie bite.

“Can I borrow your car?”

“No,” I say.

“Well, obviously I’ll be dying for an update, so let me know what happens the minute it’s happening,” Adam says.

“Will do.”

I rush home from work—late as usual—get dressed, wash my face, reapply my makeup and shovel a frosted strawberry Pop-Tart into my mouth just as Julie calls me from the cab downstairs.

“I’m on my way down!” I answer the phone.

“Meter’s running, Kat,” she replies and hangs up.

The wedding is being held outside at the Museum of Contemporary Art just off Michigan Avenue. And despite the humidity, it’s a beautiful night. As we pull up in front, the setting sun is casting a pinkish-orange hue on the museum steps making the building look especially radioactive this evening. The three of us enter through the main doors at the top of the steps and head toward the back terrace. As soon as we walk outside onto the concrete patio area, we run into Rob.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says. Rob approaches the three of us dressed in a white tuxedo and black tennis shoes.

“Oh my, Robert, you look mighty handsome,” I say as we hug.

Julie butts in. “Well, well, well, and they said it’d never happen.”

“What’s that, Julie?” he asks her.

“You in an ironed shirt, of course. Give me some love.” She extends her cheek and Rob plants one on her lips instead.

“Thank goodness our friend Kat here looks so cute in a bikini, or this wedding may have never happened,” Julie reminds him of the circumstances under which we all met, which additionally includes one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

A few weeks after my college graduation, I’d flown out to Los Angeles to visit Julie for a few days. She lived in Santa Monica for a couple years after attending college at USC, with her roommate, Emma, who was also originally from Chicago. My first full day there Julie was unable to get off work, so she told me I’d have to entertain myself for a few hours. Since it was California, I told her all I really needed were directions to the beach and the latest copy of
People
in order to kill time. Her apartment was near the corner of Olympic Boulevard and Sepulveda, and she had vaguely assured me that all I had to do was take Olympic west until I hit the ocean. Didn’t seem too hard, even for a displaced Midwesterner like myself.

“Should I walk?” I asked Julie.

“Nobody walks in L.A.; Emma is going to drive me to work, so you can have my car for the day.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said. “So, just to confirm, I take this Olympic Boulevard, all the way there? I never have to make one turn or anything?”

“Correct,” Julie assured me.

“Alrighty then, I wish you could join me, but I am perfectly happy to hit the sun and sand alone.”

“Have fun, and we’ll meet you back here around five thirty tonight,” she confirmed and disappeared out the door.

I grabbed the keys to Julie’s car and headed toward the beach. I had my tote bag, towel, magazine, sunglasses, sun lotion, and water bottle and was ready for some west coast relaxation. Her directions were pretty much spot on, but the beach wasn’t exactly as I had envisioned it. There were two deserted cars in the parking lot, and some rundown public restrooms that I immediately decided to avoid at all costs. Trash was blowing around the walkway like tumbleweeds, and it just didn’t resemble the postcard image I had formulated in my head. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of a choice considering the only other place I knew how to get to was Julie’s apartment. The local beachgoers left much to be desired as well. Transients and drifters outnumbered surfboards and bikinis by far. As I walked closer to the water I spied a lifeguard station much like ones I was programmed to associate with
Baywatch
, and for some reason it gave me the false sense of comfort I was looking for.

I strategically placed my towel near the lifeguard, behind his perch and a little to the left. I noticed him pacing the front of his station; then he glanced at me for half a second. He was picture perfect as far as I could tell. Solid muscular build, evenly tanned skin, and a glistening pair of Ray-Bans. Aside from me, the beach was extremely empty with only about three other people around, two in the water and one man sitting on the sand who was noticeably overdressed in wool pants and a long-sleeved sweatshirt. I was expecting more of an upbeat hustle-bustle atmosphere, but tourists, locals, and frolicking children were pretty much non-existent on that Wednesday morning. Either way, I was happy to be there. The North Avenue beach on Lake Michigan just can’t compare to the ocean.

I spread out my towel, being careful not to disturb too much sand and made a nice little spot for myself to sunbathe. I started out by testing fate and going without sunscreen for the first thirty minutes just to get a little pink on my cheeks and was almost done with my magazine when I decided to put it away and take a nap. I grabbed my sunglasses, lay down on my back, draped my T-shirt over my waist and closed my eyes. The warm early morning sun had me curled up like a kitten in no time.

The noise that woke me up was not a sound that one normally associates with the beach. It was the sound of a truck engine and it was almost on top of me when I opened my eyes. As soon as I realized there was a Beach Patrol Jeep less than three feet from my towel, I immediately sat up and looked at the two new lifeguards arresting the overdressed homeless man who had apparently set up a spot of his own, inches from mine during my brief slumber. Neither of the two patrolmen made eye contact with me as they were putting the man into their truck, but I noticed that the cutie I had spied earlier was now staring right at me from his perch with a goofy smile on his face. My cheeks went flush as I looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed this spectacle. Embarrassed, I yanked my shirt over my head and rushed toward the Baywatch babe to ask if he knew what had happened.

“Hi,” I said, waving up at him.

“Good morning,” he answered, leaning over the tower rail.

“What just happened over there?” I pleaded for some information.

“Didn’t you see that guy?” he asked me.

“No. I mean, not until just now. The truck woke me up.”

“Well, your friend there was… pleasuring himself… next to you.” His smile grew like the Cheshire cat.

My stomach sank and my face turned red without help from the sun as I briefly looked back at the commotion next to my belongings. “Are you kidding me?” I said in disbelief.

“Nope. It happens all the time. In fact I called in the troops almost as soon as you sat down. What brings you to this beach anyway?” he asked the question that I had been wondering myself.

“Well, my best and now former friend sent me here this morning. I’m in from out of town.”

“Welcome to L.A.” He waved a hand in the air. “I’m Rob.”

“I’m Kat. Nice to meet you… sort of,” I said.

“How long are you in town?” he asked.

“Just a few days,” I said.

“I see. So, what do you and your clueless girlfriend have planned tonight?”

“I’m not really sure,” I answered, digging my toes into the sand and wondering if he was really going to ask me out under these circumstances?

“Me and some of the other lifeguards are going to the Daily Pint later, around seven thirty. Tell your friend; I’m sure she’ll know where it is,” Rob said.

“Okay, that sounds great. Hopefully we’ll see you there. I can’t imagine she’s scheduled us to meet another group of lifeguards anywhere else,” I joked.

“And tell her to take better care of you next time.”

“Will do.”

As it turned out, Julie, Emma and myself did end up meeting Rob and his band of beach brothers out that night, and he ignored me almost instantly and set his life-saving sights on Emma. They’ve been together ever since.

Beth shoves Julie to the side. “Now back away from the groom for God’s sake. Mazel tov, honey. We’re so excited for you. Where’s Emma?”

“She’s in with her bridesmaids hogging the air-conditioner. I’ve lost three pounds of sweat since this afternoon.”

“Everything is going to be amazing,” I say. “Why don’t you get a cool glass of something? Don’t your lackeys have emergency tequila stashed away for you somewhere?”

“Please, Kat, that was so two hours ago.”

“I should have known.” I smile and pat him on the back.

“Okay, girls, I’ll see you in there. Gotta run,” he says and waves goodbye.

“Good luck, Rob, you’re going to be great. You’re a lucky guy!” Julie shouts after him.

Julie wipes her forehead and turns to Beth and me. “What possesses people to have an outdoor wedding in this town? It’s ninety-three degrees in the Goddamned shade, my back is dripping, and I’ve been here all of five minutes.”

“More importantly, what possessed me to straighten my hair for this thing? Look at it already,” I say, and begin to pull on the ends in an attempt at keeping it from springing up around my face.

“You straightened your hair today?” Beth asks.

“Crap!” I pull harder.

Aside from the sauna that is this wedding, all I can focus on is seeing Marc. I’m scoping the place out like a radar gun waiting for him to appear. How will he act? How will I react? Will my newfound adoration for Ryan ward him off like a protective shield, guarding me from all that is sappy and familiar?

Beth and Julie were forced to listen to me predict Marc’s behavior on the entire ride over here, and they were extremely supportive in their own way. Julie’s pessimistic nature led her to inform me that it’s for the best, and that my relationship with Marc was a study in dysfunction. Its demise has brought out the best in me, she said. Beth, on the other hand, has assured me that it’s been a well-deserved and much needed break, but that weddings almost always rekindle old romances… and I should be prepared for that as well. Just as we walk back inside the museum for a shot of cool air and a cocktail, I see him enter the room at the opposite end. My halted pace signals the girls, and within seconds all three of us are staring at him.

Shit, he looks great. His hair is a little bit longer than he usually wears it, and the length nicely accents his disheveled surfer turned business mogul appeal. He’s dressed in a suit but noticeably without a tie. His white dress shirt is open at the neck and he looks as comfortable as I’ve ever seen him. My stomach begins to turn as it always does when I get nervous, and I notice Beth and Julie looking back and forth at Marc and me, and then finally at each other.

“Showtime,” Julie remarks. “No pressure, doll face.”

“You’re fine, you look gorgeous, and your hair is perfectly straight.” Beth winks at me. “Do you want us to magically disappear or no?”

I adjust my posture so that I’m not facing him head on. “I’m not sure yet,” I say using my best ventriloquism and observe Marc standing next to his friend Graham, looking over at us.

Julie pats the sweat under her arms with a cocktail napkin. “Why don’t we all just go and get a drink like we’d planned?” she suggests.

“Fine, yes, that’s fine,” I waffle, head bobbing. “Wait, you know what, I think I should just go over and say hello. Why make this uncomfortable?” I look to my girlfriends for encouragement.

“I agree,” says Beth. “Do you want us to go with you?”

“Bad idea,” declares Julie, shaking her head. “You’re going to ruin your night and Rob’s wedding before it even starts.”

Beth erupts with laughter. “Oh, my God, would you shut up and leave her alone.” She slaps Julie’s boob and tugs on her purse strap like a leash. “Go on, Kat, we’ll be by the bar.”

“Ow!” Julie screams, massaging her chest.

I watch as they walk toward the bar and leave me standing alone. I know I have to turn around, move an arm, blink, or do something but instead I stand there frozen. Then I close my eyes and beg the hamster to stop running around inside my lower abdomen. A second later someone walks up behind me and places a hand on my shoulder.

I manage the turn and come face-to-face with Marc. I look up and into his familiar eyes, and am immediately at ease.

“Hey,” Marc says casually.

“Hey, Marc,” I answer, as we hug.

“Nice to see you, you look good. I always liked when you wore your hair curly,” he says.