Nickels (2 page)

Even though Elite’s office was in Scottsdale, Niki commuted
all over the Valley of the Sun to various clients.  Sometimes she would spend
months working out of downtown Phoenix.  Other months she would work in Tempe, and
like Hamilton, a good number of their clients were in Scottsdale, roughly
thirty miles north of her home.  With all the traveling, she needed a reliable,
fuel efficient vehicle.  The hybrid fit the bill—with the added bonus of
getting to use the carpool lane.

She cursed as some jerk cut her off.  He waved at her with
only one finger.  The nerve of some people!  She felt vindicated as traffic
slowed south of the 202 and she flew past him.  She resisted the temptation to
return his kind wave.

As she got closer to Ray Road, she started easing her way
across three lanes of traffic so she could make the Chandler Boulevard exit,
politely signaling at each lane.  If only all the drivers on the road were so
courteous.  Within minutes from exiting the freeway, she whipped into the
parking lot of the Chili’s to meet Carl.  No, his name was Chad.  She repeated
it three more times in her head, hoping she would get it right.

She checked her appearance in the vanity mirror, stuffed her
phone in her purse, and checked the time.  Five after.  Perfect.  Set his
expectations low.

As she neared the entrance of the restaurant, a short, dark-haired
man stood waiting.

“Niki?”

This could not be her date.  What was Marcy thinking?  He
was so far from her type.

“Yes.”  She forgot his name again.

“I’m Chad.”  He held out his hand.  She took it and gave it
a firm shake then he motioned her inside.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I asked for an outdoor table.”

Niki pulled out her phone and loaded up an app.  While March
in Arizona was the perfect temperature, allergies could be a problem.  The app
showed the pollen count was low.  Good.

“Outside would be just fine.”  She smiled.  He looked
confused.  By now he should be wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

She kicked herself.  Marcy said to be nice.

“So, Chad, tell me what you do for a living?”

“I’m an accountant for— ”

“Chad, party of two,” the hostess interrupted.

Niki could kiss the little teen for distracting her date
from her not-so-very-well-hidden disdain.  She hated—well, strongly
disliked—bean counters.  As a software engineer, she had but two arch nemeses: 
bean counters and sales people.  By far, the worst of the two were bean
counters.  Every accountant or CFO for every client wielded the power to force
her to do shoddy work.  It’s not like they wanted her to do that—it’s just that
they didn’t get how much custom software cost and how long it takes to build. 
They always, always set the budget much too low.

Of course, Carl had to be an accountant.  No, Chad.

As she took her seat, she quickly grabbed the menu from the
hostess, thankful for its large size.  Maybe she could run to the restroom and
text Doug to call her—giving her an excuse to run—run for her life.  She
started to sigh then quickly thought better of it.  It turned into a sort of
sigh-yawn.

By the time the waitress came to take their drink orders,
Niki already knew what she wanted.  Well, she actually had that figured out
about ten seconds after Chad named the restaurant.  She would get the steak
fajitas.  Sadly, protocol dictated she must wait until after the drinks were
delivered to place her order.

When the waitress returned with her diet soda and his iced
tea—of course he drank it unsweetened—Niki was about to blurt out her order
when Chad suggested he might need a little more time.  She lifted her straw to
her lips to stifle the retort on the tip of her tongue. 
It’s Chili’s for
Pete’s sake!  Get a burger!

She finished off her diet soda by the time the waitress came
around again for their order.  This time she shouted out her order the second
the server asked.  Chad still seemed uncertain, but finally managed to make a
decision.

“So,” Chad said. “You’re a software engineer?”

She hated that tone of voice that implied she was a
female
software engineer.  It’s not like this wasn’t the twenty-first century or
anything.

“Yes, and you’re an accountant.”  The shortness in her tone
hinted at her annoyance.

“So…”  Chad nervously fingered the paper napkin in his lap. 
“What do you like to do for fun?”

Interesting tactic.  Not that she had the first clue what
fun was.  On the Hamilton project, she was pulling eighty plus billable hours a
week for a month straight.  Fun wasn’t in her vocabulary.  She had no idea how
to respond.

And when she was in this predicament, her sarcasm took over.

“Sit around and memorize lines from
Office Space
.”

“Really?  I always thought that was a stereotype.  Do
software engineers really do that?”

He can’t be serious.  Maybe it was time to text Doug for a
bail out.  Better yet, she’d call him.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

Rising, she walked towards the restroom without
explanation.  Once inside, with a few taps of her finger, she dialed Doug.

“Nik, what is it?” Doug answered the phone.  “Please tell me
everything is fine with Hamilton cause I can’t—”

“Hamilton is fine.  I need your help.  You’ve got to rescue
me from this awful date my roommate set up.”

“Seriously, Nik?  This is what you are calling me for?”  His
voice sounded angry.  She could picture his thick eyebrows scrunching together.

“Yes, and it’s Niki, not Nik.”

A heavy exasperated sigh answered.

“Come on, it’s really bad—”

“Look, I’m on a date—first date in ages and it was going
pretty good until you called.  She’s really sweet, Nik.  Can you imagine, a guy
like me finally talking to a girl?”

Niki held her breath as Doug paused.

“Where are you calling me from anyway?”

“Guess.”

“Really, Nik, you have no cell phone etiquette do you?”

“What was I—”

“I’m not bailing you out this time.  You know, it wouldn’t
kill you to be friendly to the poor sap.  Who knows, you might find out he’s
not all that bad.”

“But, he’s an
accountant
!”

“What is wrong with you anyway?  You don’t date coworkers. 
You don’t date clients.  And when your roommate sets you up on a date you act
like it’s the worst tragedy you’ve ever faced.  I don’t get it.  Why can’t you
just try to meet a guy, fall madly in love, and raise a family?  It’s what
people our age do.”

She couldn’t believe it.  Besides Marcy, Doug was the
closest friend she had.  He was not going to bail her out.  Instead he was
lecturing her.  Since when did Doug think like that?

“Look, I’ve gotta go,” he said.  “Good luck.”

The line went dead and the backlight of her phone dimmed. 
She should have just texted him—at least then he would have called her and she
could have made a break for it.  Sighing, she threw her phone in her purse and
exited the restroom.

She could really use an app that sent scheduled text
messages about now so she would have an excuse to leave.  Maybe she would start
writing such an app this evening.  If Marcy was serious about finding her a
man, she would probably end up using it a lot.

As she sat back down at the table, she pasted a smile on her
face.  Within seconds, their food was delivered.  Good.  Now she had a
reasonable excuse for limiting their conversation.

“Can I make an observation?” Chad asked as Niki stuffed a
bite full of fajitas in her mouth. 

She nodded.

“When we spoke on the phone, you seemed different.  More…”

What was he talking about?  The only time she spoke to him
on the phone was in the car on the way here.  Then the light dawned.  Marcy.

“Which phone call are you referring to?”

“Yesterday evening.  I thought we made a connection, but
today you seem distracted.  Did I do something wrong?”

A little stab of guilt pierced her conscience.  Perhaps she
had treated him a bit unfairly.  But, she needed to put a stop to this
misunderstanding about said phone call.

“Look, Carl—”

“Chad.”

“Right, Chad,” Niki corrected as she dug in her purse for
her phone.  With a few taps, she had a picture of Marcy on her screen.  “I
think this,” she said turning her phone towards him, “was who you spoke to on
the phone.”

At his raised eyebrow, she explained.  “That’s Marcy, my
roommate.  She’s been trying to get me to date since the beginning of the
year.  I guess you could say that I’m her latest mission.  The problem is that
I don’t want to date.  I’m quite happy with my life the way it is.  See, I
think it was Marcy you spoke to last night.  How long did the two of you talk
anyway?”

“Two hours.”  His crestfallen expression as he looked from
Marcy’s picture to Niki and back again left her feeling some measure of
sympathy for him.

Taking her phone back from him, she got an idea.  Why hadn’t
she thought of this sooner?  He would be perfect for Marcy.  Dropping her phone
in her purse she looked for something to write on.  She never had any paper,
but always kept a pen in her purse.  The irony struck her as funny, bringing a
smile to her lips.  Pulling one of her business cards from her stash, she
crossed out her information on the front.  Turning it over, she jotted down
“Marcy Jacobs” and Marcy’s cell phone underneath.

“Here, give her call.  Don’t hold this disaster against
her.  She’s really a sweet gal with a good heart.”

The waitress stopped by and Niki asked for a box for her
food.  She would take it home and eat it, putting poor Chad out of his misery.

Pulling her wallet from her purse, she took out a twenty
dollar bill and laid it on the table.  “This should cover my meal,” she said,
standing with her box of food in one hand and purse in the other.

“I’m serious.  Give Marcy a call.  I won’t be offended and I
think you might find that she is more your type.”

Chad blinked at her, jaw slack.  She was pretty sure this
was not how he expected the date to go.

Stepping back from the table, she slung her purse onto her
shoulder so she could shake his hand.  “It was nice to meet you, Chad.  Who
knows, maybe I’ll see ya around?”

He shook her hand still mute.

Niki turned on her heel and left.  As she got in her car,
she felt a tiny bit of remorse.  She could have been nice like Marcy asked. 
But, if she was nice, and made a connection with someone—well that could
eventually lead to affection or maybe even love—and Niki Turner was completely
over loving anyone in this life.  It only ended in heart-wrenching pain when
they were ripped away.  No, she did the right thing.

Turning up a side street, she hated the emotions that
bubbled to the surface.  Doug’s words rolled through her mind as she meandered
through side streets covering the short distance to her home.

Doug—shy, quiet Doug—was on a date.  He told her she needed
to find someone.  This from the guy who thought he’d never find a date, much
less a long-term relationship.  Towards the end of the Hamilton project he even
acted like he was resigned to being single forever.  What changed?

And now he suggested she make the same change.

But she couldn’t.  It hurt too much.

As she turned the last corner onto her street, she punched
the garage door opener button and waited impatiently for the door to rise.  She
pulled into the right side of the garage and shut off the engine.  Sitting
there for just a second, she shoved all those confusing thoughts and emotions
deep inside.  She prepared for the conflict waiting on the other side of that
door.  Marcy would not expect her home so soon.

Exiting her car, she retrieved her meal, purse, laptop case,
and flip-flops.  Balancing the stack carefully, she unlatched the door to the
house, pushing it open with her toe.  Dropping everything but the flip-flops on
the kitchen counter, she turned and reached around the door to press the button
to close the garage.

When she turned back towards the kitchen, a very angry Marcy
greeted her, complete with both hands propped on her hips, blue eyes flaming. 
Niki side-stepped her and walked into the kitchen, pulling a spoon from the
silverware drawer.  She assembled the rest of her fajitas, waiting patiently
for Marcy to strike.

“What did you do?” Marcy asked as Niki bit into her dinner.

Through the mouthful of food, she replied, “Nuthin.”

Chapter 2

“Nothing?”  Marcy’s volume edged higher.  “Nothing!  I send
you on a date with a perfectly nice guy and before you even pull in the
driveway I have a voicemail from him saying he would like to talk to me.  What
is wrong with you?”

Niki smiled.  Good for you, Carl.  Oops.  Chad.

Swallowing her food, she said, “Nothing is wrong with me. 
And there’s nothing wrong with Chad either—well, except that he’s an
accountant.  What were you thinking in setting me up with him?”