What a Girl Wants (20 page)

He looks to Mrs. Manger’s door. “It wasn’t for nothing. You’ve got a police record now. Get your last month’s rent refunded and move on.” He tips his hat and walks away lit like an angel by the pool’s light.

I call the only guy I know who will help me at nine on a Sunday night. The Reasons’ knight in shining armor: Seth. At least I know he’ll be home. It’s movie night.

He answers on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Seth, it’s Ashley. I need your help.” I feel immediately stupid, asking some guy to rescue me. All that education, all that breaking through the glass ceiling business at work, and I’m brought down by a single critter. “You know what? I shouldn’t have bothered you. Never mind.”

“Ashley, what is it? You’ve got to at least tell me or I’ll worry all night.”

I breathe in deeply trying to get the nerve to say this out loud. “My apartment has rats. I’m too creeped-out to sleep there and I’m afraid to get my stuff until morning, but I need my computer and clothes for work.”

He’s laughing. I deserve this, but, I’ll be, if it doesn’t tick me off.
Knight in shining armor. Right.

“Sam,” Seth says aloud. “Ashley’s got rats in her apartment.” Now they’re both laughing.

“I told you it was no big deal.” Like I needed to be laughed at. I’ve already been told I’m completely selfish twice tonight, tossed onto the street without a moment’s notice, and starting the most important case of my career tomorrow morning at six a.m. I wonder if the guy who wrote Murphy’s Law needs a wife.

“Ashley, we only think it’s funny because of how we live over here, and you’re Monica on
Friends
over there by comparison. Don’t you find it comical that you have rats?”

“No.” That insipid lump is growing in my throat. I hate to be laughed at. I’d rather be called selfish twice than laughed at.

Seth stops laughing almost immediately. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” His voice is soothing now, but I can still hear Sam rolling in the background.

“Is Sam coming?”

“No, when I rescue beautiful women I leave him at home. I’m like Superman that way. I work alone.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

Seth just called me beautiful. What’s up with that?

19

I
know I
said
I was afraid to enter my apartment alone. But I’m more afraid that the men of the Reasons might see me with day-old makeup on, so I trudge upstairs like the dutiful slave to vanity that I am. I turn every light in the apartment on, hoping to shock the rodent into whatever hole he inhabits. I shudder at the thought.

After my quick brush with beauty products, I notice I’ve got clothes lying on the floor—like some lovesick teenager who tried on six different outfits this morning. And, of course, the coffee-stained slacks are still hanging on the shower. I have genuinely good intentions, but the fact is I know I will never clean those slacks. They will sit there, a testimony to my laziness regarding have-tos until I guiltily throw them out.

This is just one of the reasons I belong in Silicon Valley. Most people would look at those pants, or anything they’ve laid money on, as a valuable stock commodity, because part of sound financial management is being frugal. But I’m not like that, and neither is the rest of Silicon Valley. Time is way more valuable to us than inconveniences of any sort. Sheesh, I’d just as soon turn in my car when it needs an oil change.

It isn’t long before there’s a knock on the door, and I’m wishing I did a better job tidying up in the short minutes I had—living up to Seth’s vision of me as Monica on
Friends
—but at least I’ve gotten makeup on and have the appearance of being the poster child for Calm Behavior in a Crisis.

Seth is standing on the landing outside, and I peek through the peephole just to prepare myself.
Do not say anything stupid,
I remind myself.
It was nice of him to ask you out, but nothing more
than that. You are a patent attorney. You are dating a Stanford doctor.
One bald engineer will not bring you down.

“Hi,” I say, opening the door. “Thanks for coming.”

Seth’s intense sapphire/tanzanite eyes render me silent once I meet his gaze, and I’m trying to remember my pep talk. He hesitates about coming in the door and I’m charmed by his initial shyness. We immediately feel the chemistry the two of us don’t want to admit to. At least I feel it, so I don’t see how he could miss it.

But even if Seth felt this force field, he wouldn’t acknowledge it, because I’m not what he imagines for himself in that alter science-fiction world he lives in.
Hey, the dude on
The Matrix
got a
hot chick, where’s mine?

You know on
The Bachelor
they take a perfectly decent guy, who makes his own living and doesn’t live with his mommy . . . then, ruin him with choice. Here’s my theory: All men think they are worthy of a harem; it’s like this innate flaw in the male species that perpetuates with each generation, becoming stronger and stronger. So we, as a watching nation, take this unsuspecting single guy, thrust him on television and surround him with beautiful bouncing dingbats who fight over his affection. Cattily, I might add, but isn’t that the fun part?

Now, said bachelor has his dreams come true, and we, as a voyeuristic society, tell him he must choose only one. I can hear Yoda now: “One only, you must choose.” He’ll select one, of course—that was the whole point of his group dance with the women for six weeks—but it’s too late. In his pointy little head, he is now worthy of
all
the women, and he’ll never be able to stick to just one again. He’ll want them all back, misunderstanding that harems in the United States are banned for good, except on reality television. Hence, the ruination of another good man.

But I digress. Seth is here and we have nothing to say to each other. And something tells me he wouldn’t appreciate my theories on television mating.

Seth finally steps in the door, managing to stay several feet away from me for fear I might attack him. And ashamedly, I admit the thought crosses my mind. For a second, I just wish we could put Arin and Fresh Choice in our history and go back to the friendship we had. We ignored the electricity then, and life was good.

“Do you have everything?” Seth asks.

“I haven’t called anyone yet for a place to stay. I think I might just go to a hotel for the night because I’m probably leaving for Taiwan tomorrow.”

He’s looking at me. Standard conversation requires a response. Should I tell him this?

“You’re welcome to my bed,” he finally says.

I just stare at him, my mouth ajar like I’ve just been propositioned by an engineer.
Is this what it feels like?

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he adds.

I start to giggle. I cover my mouth, willing the laughter away, but it continues until I’m fanning my red face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that’s very nice of you.”

Seth’s expression clouds. “Do you find the idea of my place so abhorrent?”

I swallow hard and all giddy laughter dies. I’m staring right into those tanzanite eyes and I can barely speak. “On the contrary,” I whisper. I can’t look at him. I can’t say what my heart is feeling. That I don’t even remember what Dr. Kevin Whatshisface looks like. That all I remember is our history and how Seth has always been there for me. This attraction I feel is not abating.

“On the contrary?” He’s standing over me now and I’m thinking it would be so easy to kiss him. To just reach up and touch his lips with my own. I close my eyes, imagining it, but I can’t do it.

I turn away so he won’t learn all my secrets again. “How about the Hyatt up the street? I’ll get my things.”

Seth steps away, releasing me from his magnetic beam, and has his hands behind his back. He’s assessing my apartment, kind of like Prince Charles dignifying an English park. “Take your time.”

My shoulders drop. Seth is an anomaly. He’s off-the-charts intelligent and patient to a fault, but socially he moves at a slower pace. Kind of a retarded pace.

“Do you want anything to eat?” I ask.

He scrunches his face. “No thanks. The rat thing has me a little skittish.” He shudders a bit.

“Right. The rats. I personally don’t have rats. The policeman said the building is full of them. Infested actually.”

“Is he an exterminator on the side?”

“No, just rodent savvy, apparently.”

“Well, no thanks on the food.” He rubs his stomach.

“I threw a wedding shower for my brother’s fiancée today, so I never actually had a chance to eat.” This is a hint. I am available for dining somewhere, even with a coupon, but there’s no response. “I’m hoping the hotel will have room service.”
New hint. Hello?

“Arin called me,” he blurts.

“From the rain forest?”

“She’s not there yet. She’s in a Costa Rican hotel. That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. You never answered my e-mail.”

“I was busy with the shower. What did she say?”

“She called the good doctor first. That’s why she called me.”

Heart is thumping a little bit here. I’m officially “the other woman.” How shocking and completely unrealistic. “And?”

“He told Arin that he’s seeing you. That you two went on a date.”

I stop packing the suitcase and look at him. There’s no reaction on his face. Is he sad about this? Mad? Dare I believe for a moment he might be jealous?

“Are
you seeing him?” he asks.

Okay, am I technically seeing the doctor? I did kiss him. Do you think that counts? I’m not sure how to take this question. Is he curious because of Arin, or me? What if he’s jealous over her, and I’m the woman he wants to kiss because I’ve eliminated the competition?

“We went to the city on Friday when I got home from Taiwan. Do you count that as seeing him?”

He rubs his forehead. “I’m not sure. What did he say afterward?”

“He’d call me.” I lift my eyebrows.
Isn’t this standard guy-speak
for “see ya”?

“Did
he call you?”

“You know, Seth? If Arin wants to date the doctor, she should call him. I’m not in high school, and I’m not going to play telephone. If you want to pass her notes for her, fine, but leave me out of it.”

He shrugs.
What kind of answer is that?

“Seth!” I wave my hand in front of those crystal eyes of his. They’re glazed over with no expression whatsoever. “Do you play poker?”

“No, why?”

“Seth, what is it you’re asking me?”

The thin hard line of his mouth doesn’t budge. “Nothing. Like I said, I was just curious.” Seth surveys all the stuff I have in my house. Too much stuff for one person. “You know, I had a coworker who now has a startup Internet business. They move all your stuff into storage for an interim. They even pack dishes.”

My mood brightens. “You’re kidding me?”

“No. He got the idea after the dot-com explosion when all those jobless engineers had to exodus home to Ohio and the like. You want me to call him? That way you wouldn’t have to worry about moving out.”

Seth
is
Superman! “I’d love it if you called him. I’m probably leaving for Taiwan on the morning plane.”

“No problem. Just leave me your keys. I’m going back to work after this, so I’ll take care of it.”

Now I’m picturing Seth rummaging through my stuff and finding old autographed pictures of Adam Ant or my autographed
Tiger Beats
. But it’s Seth. It’s not going to occur to Seth to rifle through my stuff, because Seth is not me.

“Do you know what they charge?”

“I think he’d probably move all this stuff for about a thousand. I’ve seen him work before.”

“Does he charge for storage?”

“Yeah, I think a hundred a night or so, but he’d probably cut you a deal, being my friend. You want me to get your car tomorrow?” Seth says.

“Would you? I don’t want to leave it at the airport.”

“No problem. Sam can help me get it.” He looks at my packed suitcase. “Why don’t you just call Kay for the night until you figure out what you’re going to do?”

Kay Harding. Resident single anal retentive with permanent sidekick, the clipboard. But she has three bedrooms, she’s not my dangerous Superman here, and she’s not my mother, so technically, it’s not a bad idea. I’ll get my fill of hotel rooms tomorrow.

“Do you think she’d mind?”

“I don’t see why she would. It’s only for a night.”

“I’ll call her.” Ringing her up, she answers like she’s at work. “Hi Kay, it’s Ashley. Listen, I was wondering if I might spend the night with you tonight. It seems my apartment has a slight infestation issue, and I’m leaving for Taiwan in the morning.”

She agrees, albeit not readily, but at this point I’m not looking for a rousing response. I’d call Brea, but I can’t help but worry I’d catch her and John on a black mesh thong night and I’d never sleep a wink worrying about it.

“She says it’s fine,” I whisper to Seth. “Thanks for thinking of it.”

Seth still isn’t sitting and I don’t know if it’s me or the rats that make him more uncomfortable. I catch him glimpsing at me, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

“You’ll save money on a hotel,” Seth surmises.

“Yeah, just think.”

Seth picks up my suitcase. Another surprising act of chivalry! He touches my fingers gently as he takes the key while he intently stares down on me. With everything in me I want to kiss him. Not because he rescued me, or that he’s going to take care of moving all this garbage, but because when I’m with Seth I feel completely transported. There’s a fire within him that is carefully managed, like a white-hot, days-old campfire. Not like the fireworks I see fly when I’m with Kevin. Okay, so my own pyromaniac tendencies are coming out here, bear with me . . .

Seth takes my suitcase and moves away from me, but I catch his eye again. He feels the slow burn too, even if he’s not blowing on the embers.

“So you don’t want to get something to eat first?” I ask.

He looks at me and I see him visibly swallow. “No, I should get home.” I know he doesn’t want to go home. I see it in his forced expression, but he will go home. If there’s any chance I’ll weaken his resolve, Seth will just dig his heels in further. It’s over. Anything we might have shared is not something he’s willing to deal with. Why can’t I just get that through my thick skull?