Find Me Alastar(5)

She smiles nervously. “Yes, that’s me.”

He holds out his hand to shake hers. “Julian Masters.”

Oh. I bite my lip to stifle my smile as I watch the color drain from my dear friend’s face. Julian is a man, not a woman as we thought.

Brielle’s saucer size eyes meet mine in shock. Oh my God. I want to burst out laughing. Her face is priceless.

He raises his eyebrows impatiently.

“Um, so, yeah, I’m Brielle.” Her eyes flick nervously to me. “And this is my friend I am here with, Emerson Mathews.”

He nods warmly and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hello,” I squeak.

“I thought you were a woman,” Brielle breathes.

His brow furrows. “No, last time I checked I was all man,” he grumbles, unimpressed.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Awkward.

Brielle fakes a smile and I drop my head to hide my face.

“We will have to wait about fifteen minutes for your baggage, I’m afraid.” He gestures to the carousel in the corner. He then paces off in front and Brielle punches me hard on the arm. “Oh my f*ck,” she whispers. “He’s a f*cking man.” I giggle with my hand over my mouth like a child as we follow him marching through the crowd.

“I can see that,” I whisper.

“Excuse me, Mr. Masters?” she calls.

He turns around. “Yes.”

We both wither under his glare. “We are just going to use the bathroom,” Brielle tells him nervously.

He nods one curt nod and gestures to the right. We look up and thankfully see the neon sign.

Brielle grabs my arm and drags me into the bathroom. “I’m not working with a stuffy old man!” she shrieks as we burst through the door.

I shake my head. “It will be okay. How did this happen?”

She takes out her phone to check the email again and I duck into a cubicle. I really am busting.

“It says woman,” she cries through the door. “I knew it said woman.”

I frown as I sit down. “He’s not that old,” I call out. “I would prefer to work for a man than a woman, actually.” Damn it, I need to calm her or she will get on the first plane back.

“You know what, Emerson? This is a shit idea! How in the hell did you talk me into this?” she shrieks through the door.

I smile sympathetically as I exit the cubicle and wash my hands. “It doesn’t matter, you will hardly see him anyway, and you’re off weekends when he’s at home.” I need to diffuse this. “Stop the carry on.”

Steam practically shoots from her ears. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to f*cking kill you.”

I know I shouldn’t, but I want to laugh. This is frigging hilarious. “Listen, just stay with him until we find something else. I will get my phone sorted tomorrow and we can start looking elsewhere for another job,” I reassure her.

She puts her head into her hands in dismay.

“At least you got picked up. Nobody cares about me,” I scoff as I stare at my reflection in the mirror and reapply my lip gloss. “I look like shit. Mark probably saw me and ran a mile,” I reply flatly as I try to fluff my hair.

She looks up from her hands. “Oh, Em. What are we doing?”

I put my arm around her and we walk out through the door. “It will be okay. I will call you tomorrow and we will work it out.”

We walk out and take our place next to Brielle’s new boss. My eyes flicker back to Mr. Masters. He’s about forty, immaculately dressed, and kind of attractive. His hair is dark with a sprinkling of silver. I swallow nervously as my eyes glance to Brielle who is also summing up her new house companion. “Did you have a good trip?” Mr. Masters questions as he looks down at Brielle.

“Yes, thanks,” she whispers. “Thank you for picking us up.”

He nods curtly.

I look to the ground to hide my smile. This is hilarious. I’ve never seen her so out of her comfort zone.

“Emerson,” A male voice calls from behind, and when I turn, I realise it’s Mark.

“Hello.” I smile nervously.

He kisses me on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late.” He turns to Brielle. “You must be Brielle?”

“Yes.” She smiles before she gestures to Mr. Masters. “And this is…” She hesitates, obviously not knowing what to introduce her new employer as.

“Julian Masters,” he announces sternly for her as he takes Mark in a firm handshake.

Brielle and I fake smiles to each other. This is so damn awkward.

Mark is blonde and handsome. His hair is neat, he’s dressed nicely, and… what else? Oh, I know… Short. He is really, really short – so much shorter than I imagined. I am not completely sure of whether it’s the jet lag or the let down of my imagination running away with me but I really thought I was going to see fireworks the instant I met him.

Guess not.

Hmm.

Finally, after ten minutes of uncomfortable silence, Brielle spots her bag as it comes out on the turnstile. “That’s my bag.” She points to her luggage coming out underneath the rubber flaps.

Julian Masters raises an eyebrow. “The one with the pink ribbon?” he asks dryly.

Brielle nods and drops her head in shame, and I want to hoot with laughter. I told her the pink satin ribbon looked ridiculous and not to tie it on the handle, but she insisted it was a good I will easily find my bag tactic and that was the only color ribbon she’d had. Her luggage comes around and he aggressively grabs it from the turnstile and turns to her. “The car is this way.” He gestures to the right.