Just One of the Guys(74)



“Right.”

I sigh, deflating. “So what should I do, Lainey? Huh? Every time I see Trevor…shit. I don’t even want to follow that train of thought.”

Elaina shifts in her chair. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe you could just…” Her voice trails off. “You have to have a better attitude, okay? Stop looking at Ryan as second best. He’s got a lot of good things about him, doesn’t he? And he really likes you, Chas.”

I swallow. “I know. He’s a good guy.”

“So what is it?”

“I guess I feel like he was looking for a candidate for wife, and I sort of fit the bill.”

“Maybe you just need to spend more time together. Shift your attitude, querida. Trevor was your first love, but he doesn’t have to be the gold standard of men.”

Except he is. Elaina reads my thoughts correctly and throws a pillow at my head. “At least give Ryan a real chance, Chas,” she says. “You said you thought you could love this guy, didn’t you?”

“You’re right, you pain in the ass. Let’s hit the ice cream.”

“Sounds good.” Elaina pushes experimentally on her abdomen. “I think I gained five pounds today. Who knew Mamí could cook like that? Fantastic.”

I go to the kitchen and return with bowls of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch topped with billows of whipped cream. Elaina takes a bite, moans and gives me the head wiggle. “How’s the sex? Is the sex good?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Elaina, the sex is fine. It’s very good.” Not a lie. Ryan is very pleasing in bed. Very pleasing. Jeesh, listen to me. “Let’s talk about your love life. You and Mark were quite civil today. Very unusual. So, how’s it going? Any progress?”

She chews solemnly. “Yes. And that’s all I’m talking about. One of the things he brought up in counseling is that I tell you everything. Oh, and by the way, you’re not supposed to know we’re going to counseling.”

I smile. “Who do you think told him to go, dummy?”

LYING AWAKE IN BED THAT NIGHT, I come to the realization that Elaina is right. Seeing Trevor and Hayden together again made something click into place. That ship sailed. Train left the station. Airplane has taken off. And Ryan really is a wonderful guy, despite his surgeon-arrogance thing. I’ll listen with a more sincere heart when he calls, let myself be charmed by his precisely considerate, almost courtly ways. I can make things work with him. I will have a wonderful, full, happy life. I will. I already do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE POLICE DEPARTMENT’S computer specialist is named, of all things, Chip. As in Computer Chip. He has evicted me from my desk and is presently combing through my files, checking to see if he can find out who hacked into my system. I haven’t had any more nasty e-mails, and no one has gotten through the new firewalls. No one has further hurt my little toys, either. Right now, I wish I hadn’t called the coppers, since it seems to have blown over. And because my cubicle is too small for two (unless I sit on Computer Chip’s lap, which I think he’d like very much), and because Alan is using the conference room for an interview, I’m forced to work on a laptop in the reception area, directly in front of Lucia.

“Computers are such trouble,” she announces in her tight, judgmental voice. “I don’t even have one at home.”

“Teddy Bear doesn’t need one?” I ask.

“Teddy and I don’t live together yet,” she answers. “We’re waiting until we’re married. Saving ourselves till the wedding night.”

Is that what he’s telling you? I want to ask. I don’t wish to picture Lucia’s love life with Teddy Bear, but come on! Does she think it’s normal for a man in his late thirties to be engaged for almost five years and not have sex? Come on!

“Well, I told Penelope,” she continues. “I knew the paper shouldn’t have started a Web site. ‘It’ll stop people from buying the paper,’ I said.”

I roll my eyes, bite my tongue, clench my toes, but nothing works. “That’s just naive, Lucia,” I tell her. “We need a Web site. In ten years, there might not be a paper anymore, but there will still be a Web site.”

“You don’t know that,” she says. “We were supposed to be taking a bus to the moon by now, too.”

I open my mouth to protest, but heck, she’s right. She flips open her compact and checks her man-in-the-iron-mask style makeup. Today’s lipstick is a blood-red matte, which I’ve never once seen smeared or on her teeth. She’s one of those.

As if reading my mind, she says, “You should wear more makeup, Chastity.”

“I tend to look like a drag queen in more makeup,” I say, glancing at my watch.

“Well, I happen to think a woman should care about her appearance,” she says with a disdainful glance at my chinos, perfectly acceptable blue oxford and snazzy red high-tops. “I happen to think a woman should look her best at all times.”

“And I happen to think you’d look a lot prettier if you chiseled off some of that Kabuki makeup and returned to the land of the living,” I return with a big fake smile. She merely gives me a pitying look and answers the phone with her trademark song. “Eaton Falls Gaze-ette! Lucia Downs speaking!”

“I can’t find anything,” Computer Chip says as he approaches me. “Whoever did it hid his route and hid it well. With the number of hits you get on the Web site, it would take weeks, possibly months, to find out. And your case isn’t exactly a big priority right now.”

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