Ch. 2

“Come again?”

Charleigh was wise enough to keep silent.

He set his coffee cup upon the counter and leaned forward, intimidatingly. “Repeat what you just said,” he ordered.

Moistening her lips again, she glanced down at the bleach stain on her jeans and then forced herself to meet his eyes. “I said you,” she repeated.

“I thought so….funny thing is…I don’t remember proposing,” he pointed out.

“You were drunk?”

At his flat stare she held up her hands in defense. “Okay, okay…bad joke. I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Meyers?”

“Explain,” he demanded.

“It’s a long story.”

Michael leaned into the microphone. “Coming up is a load of hits with no interruptions on your very own 103.5,” he announced, then angrily pushed the microphone away from him, and turned towards her.

“Right,” she said, breaking the thick silence of the room. “Uh...I almost don’t know where to begin. Um…I kind of lied to my parents-“

“That much is obvious.”

“But you said you wanted me to tell the story, so do you or don’t you?”

He raised a brow at her tone, but nodded once for her to continue.

“Alright….so a year ago-“

“They think we have been engaged for a year?!”

“Yes,” she stated, flustered. “Can I continue?”

“Your lie is a year old,” he replied. Censure laced his every word.

“Hmm, now that you put it that way…I suppose it is. I wonder if this is the anniversary date of the little thing.”

“You think this is funny?” he asked, coming to his feet.

Taking a deep breath, Charleigh responded. “Look, I know I screwed up. I never should have lied. No, I don’t think it’s funny. But, you are not letting me tell you what happened to…to cause me to lie.”

“There is no excuse for a lie. The question is...when do you plan on telling them the truth?”

“That’s the thing,” she said, holding up a finger and swallowing nervously. “Uh…I kind of need you to-”

“No.”

“But if you would just-“

“No.”

“Butifyoudoyoucouldhaveachancewithmysister, Amy.” The garbled explanation came out quickly, cutting off any chance of an interruption.

“What?!”

Well, you see…if you-“

“No…what did you just say??”

“Well…I was trying to say that if you agree to help me it would give you a chance with my sister. I know that I’m not exactly the kind of person that you would consider dating, but I’m hoping that you could make the appearance believable.” Her face heated up at her own words. “My mother is…well…intuitive.”

Eyebrows furrowed angrily, Michael came to his feet, towering over her, and causing her to stumble backwards, before she caught herself and raised her eyes to his.

“What makes you think that I am interested in your sister?” he silkily questioned.

For a spit second, Charleigh wished she was standing before the nerd version of Michael, not this unpredictable and unreadable person. “Well I-I noticed your interest in her back in high school…and well…she looks the same,” she tried.

Michael stared at her in complete disbelief, before switching his gaze to the floor, gathering patience.

“Out of curiosity… tell me, how do you expect I would have a chance with your sister if I am supposedly engaged to you?” he asked, taking another step towards her.

Clearing her throat, Charleigh motioned to the chairs. “Do you mind if I-?”

“Go,” Michael answered, backing up a space, and allowing her passage to her chair.

Once she’d put distance between them and was settled comfortably, she finally felt like she was able to breathe again.

“I would …I would break the engagement…or maybe you could…that would be more believable to them, anyway,” she mumbled. “And after our engagement is broken, I promise…my sister will be all yours. She has no problem going after my sloppy seconds.”

“I’m no one’s sloppy seconds, lady,” he darkly returned.

“Okay,” she shook her head dismissively, “Whatever. Just please say that you’ll do this for me.”

“Why not just tell the truth?”

Of course he wouldn’t want to do it. What was she thinking? By agreeing to help her, he would basically be advertising his own lack of taste in women. She’d seen the women he’d dated and she was nowhere near being in the same league. Humiliated, Charleigh came to her feet, intent on walking to the snack room.

“You know what? Never mind. It was a stupid idea. I’m sorry, and you’re right. I should tell them the truth.” And sink lower in their eyes than ever before.

“Char,” he called out to her back when she reached the door.

Blinking back her tears, she turned to face him and gave him a wobbly smile.

“You okay?”

“Mm hmm,” she returned and walked down the hallway and into the snack room. Opening the small fridge, she grabbed the sprite she’d left there the day before and ordered a snickers bar from the snack machine.

Plopping down in a chair in front of a small round table, she exhaled in defeat, tearing the candy bar’s wrapper and taking a generous bite of it while mentally seeking out a way to confess the lie to her mother.

It was bad enough that she was viewed as the lost cause in the family…They saw her as she was; out of shape, inarticulate and awkward, and now they were going to add desperate and liar to that list. They would anyway if they found out, but since she would be showing up to the cabin alone, she would have to deal with a week of disapproving eyes, snide comments, and censure.

After finishing off her snickers and half of her soda, she returned to the work room, only to find it empty. Walking to the counter, she introduced the next lineup of songs and before she knew it the day was over.

Grabbing her sweater and purse she left the building and headed towards her car in the parking lot, wondering why she hadn’t seen her boss for the rest of that day.

“Probably scared him off,” she muttered to herself.

Surprisingly, her car started immediately. After walking inside her small apartment, she kicked off her shoes and turned on the television for some background noise as she rummaged around the kitchen for something to cook.

When it came to the culinary arts, everything that Charleigh learned, she’d picked up on her own. The Jacob family employed a cook and though her mother, Caroline, occasionally fiddled around in the kitchen, it was never enough to where she could actually learn from her.

As a little girl, she’d often sneak into the kitchen and watch the cook prepare meals. As boring as it seemed, it was something that took her away from the dull routine of tennis lessons, and ballet performances that the Jacobs’ had set up for her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the kindness they showed or the opportunities they offered her…but even at the age of five, at the very age they’d adopted her…she never quite fit in, and constantly struggled to conform to the mold they’d set out for her. After much heartache, she gave up, and just stopped trying to be someone she wasn’t. If trying and failing brought on their disapproval, then it was much better to not try at all. What did she have to lose anyway?

Opening the fridge, she grabbed a chunk of parmesan cheese, garlic, and a carton of half &half. After putting a pot of water on, she padded to her room and put on some sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt before returning to the kitchen.

Sometimes it really sucked living alone. She’d done the whole roommate thing, and that was an epic fail too. It only lasted for six months, and she was the sucker that was loaded down with a roomie that didn’t pay her share of the rent, bills, or pitch in money for groceries. She’d been so happy when at last, her roomie moved on and she had her own space. But sometimes…just sometimes it just wasn’t enough to hear voices from the television ramble on, and when she could actually hear her own thoughts….well, she became more blatantly aware, than ever, that she was alone. The feeling was acute, and unwelcome.

Realizing that she was staring at a pot of boiling water, she broke the pasta noodles and slid them into it.

“Whatever happened to ‘a watched pot never boils?’” she mumbled.

After cutting up a chicken breast and throwing it in a skillet, she started the sauce. Twenty minutes later she was sitting by herself in front of the T.V. with a bowl of pasta, and after channel surfing, finally settled on the comedy, Money Talks.

Propping her feet up on the table situated in front of the black leather couch, she relaxed against the cushions and placed a pillow under her bowl. In between her laughter, she enjoyed some dang good pasta, and for the millionth time, paused…wishing that she had someone to share her time with. It was a thought that managed to kill her appetite.

“Time to start the spinster-hood and get a cat,” she muttered, returning her half-eaten bowl to the kitchen. After turning off her television, she walked to her bedroom where her laptop was, booked a flight to Oregon, and fell asleep.

The next morning started out as normal and boring as any other Sunday morning usually did. Only one thing was different…she received a visitor.

“Hmm mmm mm?” she hummed in the form of a question, her mouth full of listerine. If only she had a peep hole. Looking down she saw that she’d forgotten to lock the door again…the effects of living in luxury for a while with her parents, she supposed.

“Michael.”

“Hmm?!” Opening the door, she found him standing on the other side, hands stuffed in his jean pockets.

He froze the instant he saw her, and then a wide smile broke out across his face. Shocked, Charleigh’s mouth gaped open a little, causing a small stream of listerine to slide down the corners. After covering her mouth and motioning for him to come in, she ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Turning on the faucet to drown out his laughter, she stared at herself in the mirror. Perfect. Just perfect. She slept with her makeup on again so she looked like a raccoon; her pony tail was a jumbled mess, and now her t-shirt was wet with listerine.

Disgusted, she shook her head and quickly cleaned herself up. This was just the sort of thing her mother lectured her about. She quickly yanked out her hair tie, and winced, fully convinced that if she did that again she would be half bald, and neatly pulled her hair into a tame ponytail. After dabbing at her shirt with a hand cloth, she surveyed her appearance a second time and shook her head again. Hopeless. She was hopeless, just as her mother had said.

Charleigh flung the bathroom door open and saw Michael sprawled comfortably on her couch, his size making it appear as if it were a love seat.

“Make yourself at home Mr. Meyers,” she called out a bit sarcastically, more in an effort to make it appear as though she didn’t care how he found her at the door.

“I already have….are you a little red, or is that just me?” His teasing voice followed her to the kitchen.

“It’s you. What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?” she asked; her back to him as she started a pot of coffee.

“I’ve known for a while. I am your boss…I do have your application on file.”

After nodding she turned to face him. “Well…to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Walking around the small island in her kitchen, he stood close enough for her to smell his cologne.

Danget. He smells good.

Uncomfortable with his attention in the close proximity of the kitchen, she walked to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, a tomato, and some cheese.

“Omelet?”

“Sure,” he answered, comfortably.

“Sooo?” she prompted, withdrawing a knife from the drawer and cutting into the tomato.

“So…I’ve been thinking about the favor you asked for…and I’ve decided to help you out.”

Chareleigh’s eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. She pushed the tomato cubes aside and pulled out the cheese grater. “Why?” she questioned, staring at him over her shoulder.

Michael shrugged.

“Really? That’s your answer? A shrug? You were so against it before, why are you suddenly willing now?”

“I’ve been thinking about the perks.”

“The perks being my sister,” Charleigh stated, everything suddenly making sense. She sighed, “I get it. Well…yeah, she definitely is a perk.” Turning around at his silence, she found that she couldn’t read his expression and decided to sweeten the deal.

“You know…I was planning on paying you…making it worth your while…” she trailed off at the disapproving expression on his face.

“I don’t want your money.”

“But, you would be taking the time off, too.”

“It’s my station. I can handle it.”

“But I want to do my part and …” she trailed off again as he approached her.

“I said, I don’t want your money,” he carefully enunciated.

Clearing her throat she flicked a nervous glance to the coffee maker. “Help yourself.”

Michael paused, and then a small grin made an appearance as he walked over to the coffee pot. “Coffee won’t change my opinion,” he stated, retrieving a mug after she’d pointed towards the cherry wood cabinets.

“But it will make you a much cheerier person. We’ll talk about it later,” she lightly countered, preparing the omelets.

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Drink,” she said, nodding at his cup. She couldn’t help but smile at his laughter, and after she had their plates prepared, they went into the living room.

“Are you sure?”

“Bout what?” he asked, in between bites.

“This,” she said pointedly. “You and me…going on this trip and …and pretending we’re something we’re not.”

“Are you sure?”

Charleigh nodded uncertainly, “I’m sure that as deceitful as it is…it’s my best option if I am to retain any semblance of pride,” she quietly responded. “Thank you, Mr. Meyers. I really appreciate your help.

Setting down his empty plate, he turned his body towards her. “Charleigh.”

Snapping her awed gaze from the empty plate, and stamping down the amazing awareness that he had to have eaten it in less than five minutes, she turned and faced the human garbage disposal as well.

“If I am going to do this, two things have to change.”

Confusion dominated her expression. “What two things?”

“First,” he said inching closer to her, “stop calling me Mr. Meyers. I’m betting your parents would probably think that odd. I’m either Mike or Michael.”

“How about Mikey?” she teased.

“No.”

“Mikey it is,” she laughed. His serious expression caused the laughter to die in her throat. “Sorry…okay, what was the second thing?”

“Second. I refuse to be engaged to a woman that I’ve never kissed.”