I think about that for a few moments and decide that she is right. I don’t want him to recognize me. Not only would it be totally embarrassing to my geeky partners, but what if he asks me out, and I end up having to do that whole dating thing like normal people do.
From what everyone in this world knows about me, Luca West is not normal.
“I concur. Do you think he will recognize me?”
“Not if you do something subtle to your appearance. Wear man’s clothes. Don’t do your hair like normal. Be a butch.”
“Act like a lesbian?” My mouth is gaping open and I can feel it becoming drier with each passing second.
“Yes.” Lola enunciates the Y and the S like it is the answer that all kneeling men in the world pray for when they are holding up that engagement ring box.
“Okay.” I draw the word out. “Butch clothes. Like lesbian fashion?”
“Exactly,” she says so quickly, it sounds like a one syllable word. “Except, I know a lot of chicks who play for our side and are very attractive. You can do this, Luca. It’s so easy.” She is completely excited and for some reason, it feels like this story will be the one I will tell the grandkids. Well, not that I am having any grandkids, let alone kids. It’s that proverbial thing people do to act all philosophical and shit.
As I start to think more about it, I feel the absurd trembling start to calm and notice my brain is actively thinking about what I will need to pull off the type of outfit Lola is telling me to wear.
“I really think that might work. I’ll be disguised just enough for Camden, yet not over the top. The office will think I have a hangover or went temporarily blind,” I say, tapping my freshly manicured finger to my chin. “The question is, what will I wear and where the hell do I get the outfit?”
“Two words. Good. Will.” Lola is totally serious as she waits for my reply. I stop to think about her sentence and again, I feel my eyes rolling.
I decide to let her Goodwill idea puncture my brain and immediately it fires back out. “There’s no fucking way I’m going to Goodwill to buy my outfit. I mean, Jesus. Are we even talking about the same place? I can be frumpy, but damn, I don’t want to be church.”
Lola snorts on the other line. “Did you just say church?”
“Yeah,” I draw out. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘it’s church’ in relation to an outfit? Sometimes I wonder which one of us is in the fashion industry.”
“Oh please, girl. I know the saying. It’s just funny to hear it coming from you, but I suppose you having a personal shopper does help a lady of your lifestyle needs.”
Burn.
Did she just insult me?
“Okay, I think I want to cut a bitch. I’m so glad I called good ole Lola. Remind me to print a picture of you, so I can tack it on to my dart board.”
Lola is laughing. Shit, does this girl ever not laugh? I am smiling, wide and bright thinking of Lola, because when all is said and done, I miss my friend. She really knows me and while this is our first talk in months, it feels like just yesterday we were doing body shots in Manhattan with a male stripper and his friend, the porn star. Don’t even ask what we were doing that particular night.
“Say, how’s that guy you were dating back when I came to Manhattan last?” I ask, remembering the whole reason for the outrageous events of that evening.
“Simon? Um… we’re still seeing each other.” Lola’s tone is dull and has zero enthusiasm.
“Sounds…promising.” It doesn’t. She sounds like she is telling me what type of food she gave to her fish this morning. Boring, bland, and without thought.
“Excuse me, Ms. Lucia for not having the balls to follow in my college bestie’s footsteps and date wealthy men for great sex and shit.” She snorts again and it reminds me of why I’ve never given Carl her name. She snorts and well, the end.
“So, I have to get back to the meeting or the boys will think I left town again. Before I go, what should I do about the clothes?”
I can practically hear Lola thinking through the phone. She is the kind of girl that actually buzzes when she is thinking. I wait for her reply and can’t help but roll my eyes at this situation once more.
Camden, the pilot, will be in my office in twenty-four hours and I will be wearing…what?
“Oh! I’ve got it. Go down a few floors to the law offices of like insurance law or something boring. The old ladies working there are probably still dressing for the eighties. Take pictures incognito and send them over. I’ll overnight you clothes as long as you get them to me by two o’clock.”
“Really? You will?”
“Yeah, I can’t let you do frumpy without me, but I must have a picture of their styles. I’m sure I can wrestle some homeless women up here for their clothes.” She snorts again.
“You’re the best. I promise to take you to the best fondue dinner in the entire world when I see you next,” I croon out.
“Ooh, yes please. I need photos and I’ll get clothes to you by nine tomorrow morning.”
“You fucking rock,” I say with a sigh.
“I know. Who wants to cut a bitch now?” she asks.
I hang up on her and head straight for the elevator to take my pictures without offering a reply.
SEVEN
Lola is a fashion genius. Well, that’s debatable seeing as she had to outfit me in the ugliest clothes ever, but yeah, she nailed it. After finding several women to model their fantastically frumpy outfits yesterday, I sent over at least twenty photos to Lola. She had them thirty minutes after I ended our phone call and she promised me to get right to work at finding me the best ugly outfit ever. I went back to the conference room to find the guys hadn’t even fucking noticed I was gone. I proceeded to take charge of their stupid disagreement about fonts on the actual application worksheet, and pretty much designed the entire presentation with little help from them.
I love these guys and they are priceless when it comes to implantation, but the marketing presentations are my babies. Yes, as the parents, they have to sit in with me, but I am their sole care provider. Too much metaphor? Who cares? I am tired and look like I am swimming in plaid wool.
I boot up my computer, trying to forget the looks from everyone I encountered on my way in, starting with Colin and ending with Annie. I was throwing everyone off and wasn’t allowed to say one single word. I didn’t have time to explain to people that there was a possibility that my personal life may be made public today. Camden is my ticket to fucking up my professional image.
A knock startles me out of my reverie and I look up to see Annie in my doorway.
“What’s with the grandmother outfit today?” she asks¸ a little teasing in her eyes.
“Call it a social experiment and that’s all.” I punctuate my response with a look that says don’t fuck with me. I don’t want anyone bringing up the fact that I look different in front of Camden Steel.
“Right. Well, here are a few phone messages from this morning. Also, the guys are in the conference room already, preparing their presentation for the meeting at one this afternoon.”
I place my hands over my stomach, I am going to puke. How the fuck am I going to sit through this meeting without staring at Camden like a dog or pretending he isn’t there at all? I have to find a balance between the two, without making eye contact and everyone knows if you avoid eye contact there is no way you will seal a business deal. People watch eyes for trust and confidence and I was lacking both today, granted, no one else was privy to that. Just me. In my own personal hell.