She's Out of Control (9 page)

“You haven't been there that long. It's your chance now to say it didn't work out. Hans is probably just a friendly guy, though, Ashley. Don't think about that anymore. You're protected by the law.”

“There's another reason to keep the job. Kay was hoping I'd buy half her house as an investment.” I throw it out there. Let's see how completely shocked he is.

“Really? That's a great idea, Ashley.”

There's a huge lump in my throat and shadows descend over my lighthearted mood. There's no marriage proposal forthcoming. There's only me and my dog-eared copy of
The Rules
. “You really think it's a good idea, huh?”

“Yeah, it's a no-brainer to get some equity. My condo is worth three times what I paid for it.”

“I don't want to make any immediate plans for the future,” I say.

“I know how you feel.”

Clearly.

8

W
hat was I thinking?
It's the only mantra that comes to mind when Sophia, my boss's latest live-in, opens the door. I think Seth's jaw physically dropped. I know mine did. She's like a swimsuit model
after
the air-brushing. I actually find myself feeling a little sorry for her here, because she's so fabulous looking, you can't think of a thing to say. And I wonder what her conversational life is like. You're just completely stopped by her beauty. What pressure she lives under, and who needs that? By the end of my inner turmoil, I'm convinced aver-age is good.

Seth looks at her, then he looks at me, and I can almost hear his comical commentary.
Oh yeah, your boss wants you, not this Italian model who's living at his whims. Earth to Ashley. Rein in that incredible ego.

“Ashley,” Sophia's Italian accent leaves both Seth and I gaping. Kind of like,
hey, she talks
. “And you must be Seth.” Seth nods. And I clumsily hold out the plant I've brought. “Oh, it's beautiful, thank you,” Sophia says as she takes the pot.

“It's an African violet. They grow well if you have a window box.” I've seen Sophia before, but I've never seen her with makeup, and boy, she cleans up good. I always thought she was gorgeous, but just how gorgeous should really be equally divided among the women of the world. She's like Kryptonite—you can't gaze directly upon her.

“We do have a window box. Well, come in. Hans is putting the shrimp kabobs on the barbecue and I have made a fabulous pesto to go with it.” She looks to Seth. “Can I take your jacket?”

He shakes his head. Apparently, he's still dumbstruck.

“This is a great place you have here,” I offer.

“It's nice, but small, no? Hans has to pay for all those children of his, so we're lucky to have a roof, I suppose.” She lets out a tinkling laugh and sits on a long red velvety sofa, planting the violet on a glass table beside her. She pats the seat beside her. “Come and sit.”

My eyes wander as I take a seat. The house itself is very old-world. Although it's a flat-roofed Eichler, it's decorated with travertine and marble pillars, like a Tuscan villa. A baby grand piano sits beside the ornate fireplace, and the flocked wallpaper appears to be fabric. There is one exception that bolts me back into the present day: the modern, wild art that graces the walls. Everything is quite elegant except the art. It's like something out of a mental-patient gallery. Colorful and angry.

“The artwork is nice,” Seth says tentatively.

What? Come on Seth, there is an entire room of beautiful things here! You have to go for the psycho art?

“Thank you. I did it myself.” Sophia stands up and walks around the room. She's wearing espadrilles, linen slacks, and a flowing silk shirt—all in cream. She looks like she's never worked a day in her life, like she was created to be an ornament. Sophia points to a painting. “I call this
Pressure
because it represents the time I came to live with Hans's family. I never knew such angst could exist until I lived with children fulltime.” She talks with her flattened hand slicing the air for effect.

Um, maybe stealing their mother's husband had something to do with that angst.
“Did you come over to America expressly to be a nanny?”

“I did. Only to discover that I don't particularly care for children.” Again, a tinkling laugh. “They're quite filthy. They always have food on their hands, and they're just little bags of noise.” She grabs her ears. “Oh, the noise!”

I can see from Seth's expression that she's just lost a little of her mystique with him. “So you don't want children?” Seth asks. Odd. He's never asked me that question.

“Absolutely not. Hans has populated the world enough, and I believe in population control. A very rare, how you say, stance in my Catholic country, but I believe it.” Sophia moves to another painting, her hands flailing in typical Italian fashion.

Hmm. How would I describe it? The painting is skeletal in nature, covered in red, to give the effect of stringed muscles like you'd see in an anatomy book. It's surrounded by black, and the eyes bulge out like something in a Halloween haunted house. Sophia continues, “I call this one
Death
. It represents the end of a relationship and your feelings about that other person. How you are simply raw and laid . . . how you say? Bare. Laid bare.”

And Brea thinks my poetry is frightening? This gal should be locked away with her paints and a fulltime Freud. “Interesting,” I say. What does one say when you've just been assaulted by something unsightly referred to as art.
Um, this is called
Straightjacket?

Seth's eyes are huge, glowing orbs. Sophia is like a fantasy beer commercial, until she slaps you across the face with the harsh reality of her inner life. Judging by his furrowed brow, if I thought Seth was fearful of jewelry stores before, the news that a beautiful woman can harbor this kind of dark emotion obviously has him thinking
monastery.
He stares at me like
I've
betrayed him. We're never getting married. He now thinks I'm the
Portrait of Dorian Gray
, hiding some hideous self in the closet.

Hans comes in, much to the relief of us all. “Ashley, you look gorgeous!” He embraces me and stands back to gaze at me, lifting his eye-brows. “No patent attorney should look like this. How do you expect me to get any work done?”

Seth comes forward, and thrusts hand towards my boss. “Seth Greenwood, Ashley's boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

“Boyfriend? I thought . . .” Hans looks at me questioningly and continues. “I thought any man smart enough to date our Ashley would rush to the altar. No ring, huh?” Hans picks up my hand and shows its barrenness to Seth.

“We were just admiring Sophia's art,” Seth says, avoiding the marriage conversation. As is his custom.

“She's incredible, isn't she? Such talent, and it goes unrecognized in America. In Europe, they understand her art and pay big money for it.” Hans kisses Sophia on the cheek. “So, what can I get you to drink? Wine? Martini? What?”

“I'd just like a diet soda if you have one,” I say, and Sophia looks at me as though I'm from another planet.

“Wine is good for the digestion,” Sophia says. “Americans put too many chemicals in their bodies.”

“I'm afraid it's not good for my digestion,” I shrug.

“Seth, what about you?” Hans asks.

“Water, if you've got it.”

“You Americans!” Hans says as he trots off to the kitchen. He returns to the silence of the room with two glasses in hand. “What do you do during the day, Seth?”

“I'm a director of software for Mitel.”

Hans purses his lips and nods, as though impressed. “Their stock has been up. I hope you took a bit of your salary in stock. You'd be doing well.”

“I've got a bit.” Seth gives a half-smile. He has more than a bit, I can tell by his grin.

“Sounds like you're doing well for yourself.” Hans stands suddenly. “I've got to turn those kabobs over. Ashley, why don't you come out so we can talk shop? Seth seems interested in hearing more about Sophia's art.”

Reluctantly, I step out onto the small patio. Subtle lighting illuminates a lion's-head fountain and gleams on the water pouring from its mouth. I suddenly think of Daniel and the lions' den. The heat of the BBQ hits me, and I feel like Meshach heading into the fiery furnace. My heart begins to pound. Hans turns around, his handsome face lit by the fountain's glow.

“I've booked us on a flight for Tuesday,” Hans says.

“But I told you, I have to—”

“Meet with the preacher?” Hans laughs.

I feel the sting of tears in my nose. “I
am
marrying Seth.”

Hans looks down to the stamped concrete. “Of course you are. But you're going to be general counsel first. You can play the wife anytime. Seth is in no hurry. I can tell.”

“Don't placate me, Hans. What does that mean, that I can play the wife anytime? Does that mean you expect something in return for my promotion?”

Hans laughs aloud. “Do I look like the sort of man who needs to expect anything, Ashley?”

Well, he's got me there.
“No, but I don't understand your sudden interest in a general counsel.”

“I'm not going to lie to you; I find you incredibly beautiful. Stunning, in fact. Is that what you want me to admit?”

I cross my arms. “And?”

“And it has nothing to do with you being the sharpest patent attorney I've ever met. I can explain a technology to you, and boom, I know right away what the chances for patenting it are. That kind of information is the key to rising stock.” Hans lifts the lid on the BBQ. “Beautiful women are a dime a dozen. Good patent attorneys are a needle in the haystack. I don't know why more CEOs don't realize that, but when you control the patent, you control the technology. And with twenty years in this business, the product is obsolete by the time you lose the patent.” He points the BBQ tongs at me.

“So why do we have to go on Tuesday, if I'm so quick? Can't I be quick after Tuesday?”

“I have a meeting there with some Chinese nationals, and I want you with me. You know how the Taiwanese and Chinese feel about canceling meetings. What is so important here that it can't wait?”

I look back at Seth in the house, who's trying to stay as far away from Sophia as possible. “I have something special planned for Friday.”

“Then you have to make a choice, Ashley. I understand you're young, and you've never been through marriage before, but success is what lasts, Ashley. It lasts, and it's security in the bank.” He looks in toward Seth and then back at me. “You're going to gamble on something that may never happen, and I'm offering you the opportunity to make it happen for yourself.”

So why does it make me feel so terrible?
“I'm not like Sophia, Hans. I want to be a wife and mother. I'm not content to be slaving over patents for the rest of my life.”

“Only because you haven't been a wife yet.”

“Why do you have so much against marriage? Won't you marry Sophia?”

Hans laughs. “I'll never get married again. Marriage is like cutting an open wound and allowing it to bleed until you're drained completely. I've got no more blood left to give. Unless they call in the Red Cross, I'm permanently off the market.”

“Sophia seems to feel the same way, judging by her artwork.” I stand and stare at him before crossing my arms.

“I guess you could say we're soul mates then. Who says opposites attract?”

“You two need Jesus. You'd feel more hope if you viewed the world from a different standard. And that's all the preaching I'm going to do.” I lean against the brick wall.

“Good thing about your preaching, because it's illegal to proselytize in the workforce.”

“No, it's not. Only if you're in a position of authority over an employee and they don't want to discuss it. Sexual harassment, however, is illegal.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.” Hans takes the kabobs off the BBQ.

“How did you know I wasn't really engaged?” I ask, knowing it's completely futile to pretend that Hans doesn't know I lied like a rug.

He hands me the plate full of kabobs. “In my lifetime, I've learned one or two things about women.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“It does if you think about it. I don't want to be accused of harassing you.” He winks and closes the top on the BBQ. “You're too smart to be married to Seth, Ashley. He doesn't understand your complexities. Take my word for it and save yourself the heartache.” He holds two fingers up and speaks, like he has a cigarette in his hands. “And that, my dear, is free advice.”

“You're too smart to avoid listening to God. Take
my
word for it.” I point at him. “Right back atcha on the free advice.”

Hans smiles at me and winks, and we enter the living room, where poor Seth looks comatose. His eyes are glazed over, and I'm wondering when the last time he blinked might have been. “Hi, Seth, did you get the gallery tour?”

“Bon appétit!” Hans grabs the platter from me and puts the food on the table, where Sophia has set out her pesto and beautiful crystal goblets. He tries to pour us all wine and smiles when he passes our glasses. He fills Sophia's to the brim, and she chugs it down like grape juice.

She takes the bottle from him and pours herself another glass. “Seth was telling me he does software. I have no idea what that means, but I'm assuming it's computer stuff. You three would have quite the conversation if I'd let you, but I won't.” Sophia flips her long dark hair behind her back and gives Hans a heated look. “Let's talk about something interesting.”

My mind reels. What is interesting to the enigmatic Sophia? The beauty queen with wicked art taste. “I don't want to talk about soft-ware either, Sophia. I live computers all day long. Sometimes all night long. What shall we discuss?” I ask excitedly.