What a Girl Wants (26 page)

Call me on my cell if you need anything. S

I look over my shoulder, but Brea isn’t anywhere to be found. Thank Heavens.

“Ash.”

I jump about a foot. “What?”

Brea has quietly come downstairs. “I came down to say I was sorry. What’s Seth say?”

The words come tumbling out like a confession. “He had dinner with a Barbie tonight. He wasn’t on a date.”

Brea widens her eyes. “A what?”

“A Barbie. A lot of the sales companies employ these beautiful women to flirt with the engineers and sell product. Seth was with a Barbie.” She’s still staring at me and I’m trying to tame my smile. “Barbies are usually married. And if they’re not, they’re dating line-backers.”

“So Seth wasn’t actually on a date.”

“Right!” I squeal.

“But you were.”

Ack. Reality. Reality so bites
. “Go away.”

I proceed to read an e-mail from Kay Harding regarding our Saturday night: bowling and square dancing. Is it too much to ask that my Saturday night contain more than the average seven-year-old’s birthday party?

“Square dancing, huh?” Brea is still reading over my shoulder. “What’s the good doctor doing on Saturday night? Maybe we could double date so John and I can meet him.”

“He’s probably working.”

“What’s wrong with
him
, Ash?”

“Nothing. And that’s a problem. He makes me nervous, like he’s too good to be true. He drives a Porsche, has a job, doesn’t live with his mommy. But there’s something really weird about his parents. I feel like they’re looking for quality genetic material. They creep me out.”

Brea crinkles her nose. “Ewww. He drives a Porsche? You’re dating a guy who drives a Porsche. How
Wild at Heart!”

“I can have a wild streak.”

“I’m heading to bed.” She looks at my briefcase. “And don’t work all night. Get some sleep.”

“I need to surf the Internet to figure out what makes a Chinese wedding.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

“Dave says I need to, for Mei Ling. I can’t imagine why she doesn’t want a big American wedding with the Chicken Dance. Go figure.”

“Good night.” Brea ambles up the stairs.

I sit down at the computer and a new email pops in from Purvi. I shake my head. That woman will have her coffin wired with DSL.

Taiwan trip on. Big happenings. Let you know more later. Purvi

I wonder if they need a female Elvis impersonator when I’m in Vegas. I’m definitely going to check it out. It’s time to get out of my mode of madness. I might as well pick another.

After a few hours of strolling patent drawings, an instant message pops up. I look at my watch. It’s two a.m.

How was date tonight?

I ignore the IM with a strange address. I’m sure it’s some teen offering me a night of fun and free pics. New IM:

Wasn’t that you at the restaurant, Ash? I was with a Barbie.

My fingers get shaky, but I type.
Seth?

Call me Ken. Or GI Joe.

I giggle deliciously.

Did her knees make funny noises like the doll when she sat?
I type.

Huh?

Girl joke. Never mind. Did she sell you anything?

No, but didn’t drink. Saved her money.

How was her company?
My fingers are twitching again. Not sure if I want this answer.

Shares Barbie’s IQ.

“Yes!” I punch my fist to the sky.

Where are you?

@
Brea’s. Taiwan back on.

Bummer.

Had Last Supper.
If I was only as good at conversation as IM.

LOL. Why are you up?

Have to look into Chinese wedding.

Something I should know?

Brother marrying Chinese woman next month.

Grew up in China. MK.

No way. He is not a missionary kid. I do not believe it. Not for a moment, but my heart is pounding out of my chest. How could I not have known this? My fingers are silent. I can’t think of a thing to ask, but I’m overwhelmed with questions. Seth never speaks about himself. Not in a million years would I have guessed he was raised in China.

Ash?

Mentally processing you in China.

Left hair there.

You’re better off without it.

And then there’s nothing. Did I go too far? I lightly tap on the keyboard waiting for his return. I couldn’t quit before the hair comment?

Back. Sam home. Locked out.

Too bad my brother marrying. Dave could room with Sam.

Sam’s cool. Cooks.

Cooking not so bad. Grocery shopping painful.
I wrinkle my nose.

Go Friday night. No one there.

But everyone knows you’re loser.

LOL. Am loser. Bald, aging engineer.

That’s not in your online profile is it? Bad for image.

What image?

I decide it best to change the subject.
R U square dancing?

Talk about bad image.

“Ashley, what are you laughing at?” Brea’s at the foot of the stairs, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m sorry. Am I keeping you awake?”

“No, I just thought I might be missing something. Who are you talking to?” She nods towards the screen.

“Seth. He IMed me.”

“He’s making you giggle?”

“He’s very funny, Brea.” Seth is also constant, like a brilliant star or a solid mountain. Settled in his ways and also his faith. What about Kevin? I guess I crave that stability a bit, what with my family being so flighty.

“Answer Seth. He’s waiting.”

Brea is here, says hi.

Tell her hi. Starting Matrix with Sam. Night, Ash.

Night, Seth.
And the little bubble disappears off my screen. What an appropriate icon.

“What did he say?”

“That his date had the IQ of a Barbie. Does anything else matter?”

“I suppose not.”

“Oh, and I’m going back to Taiwan. Purvi e-mailed me.”

“Ashley! Would you quit that crazy job? Sheesh, you’re going to be speaking another language before I know it. Or come home with someone who married you for a green card. Besides, I hate you on the plane all night. I sit up and pray and don’t get any sleep at all.”

“Did you know Seth was a missionary kid in China?”

“No, I didn’t. There must be a lot I don’t know about him, Ash, cuz I don’t get it. I really don’t get your sudden fascination with him.”

I sigh dreamily. “I know. Neither do I.”

“You need a vacation. You have no place to live, your clothes in storage—which totally scares me—I mean your shoes could be out of style by the time you get to them. Your job owns you, like you’re chained to a desk, only worse because it’s a plane, and the church band is making a CD and I heard you told them you haven’t got time to help.”

“I don’t.” I shrug.

“The singles ski trip is coming up—a whole year has passed. You are going on that, right? Even if it is with the Reasons.”

“I hate to ski.”

“I know you hate to ski. Get a facial in the spa up there, but you need a vacation. I think your priorities are way off and I’m worried you’re going to be a Reason forever if you don’t get out of this Valley. When I find you at the Star Wars Negative Four premiere dressed in costume, it will be too late.”

“I’m going to Vegas in two weeks for my brother’s wedding.”

“Dodging porn leaflets and passing slots is not going on vacation for you, Ash.”

“They have spas there.”

“Promise you’ll go to one?”

The question leaves me antsy. I used to love anything girly like that, but now things are different. I don’t lay back and relax. I worry about all that I forgot to do before I left. All the briefs that must be looked over one more time. Thinking of all the ministries I used to do, I just feel so inadequate. And I hate to feel inadequate, so I don’t like to think or stop my momentum of hurtling forward at light speed. Lack of motion is definitely where it gets you.

“I promise I’ll go to the spa. Now unless you’re up to planning a traditional Chinese wedding, or studying patent drawings, go to bed.”

“It was good to hear you giggle again. You’ve been so strange since I got married. I came down to hear you giggle, and if Seth makes that happen, well then I’d give him another chance.”

26

T
hings to look forward to about Taiwan trip:

1. Seth might miss me (absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that).

2. Get to cancel nightmare lunch date on Friday with (gag) Dan Hollings without lying.

3. Don’t have to wait for any might-be phone calls all week. I’m so busy!

4. Can put off apartment search for another week.

5. Can pick up traditional Chinese elements for brother’s wedding.

Brea enters the kitchen as Iulm typing away on my laptop. “Did you sleep at all last night?” she asks.

“I got enough.”

“I worried you might have stayed up all night talking to Seth. What did he say?”

“Nothing really,” I shrug. “We got off when you went to bed. He was going to watch
The Matrix.” Oh, that was just painful to
admit.
“I’m going to use the phone if you don’t mind. I’m leaving today from what I gather, so I want to cancel my date with the Dark Side on Friday.”

“I can’t believe you ever said yes to him in the first place.” Brea has a look on her face like she just chewed a Brussels sprout.

“It’s your fault I’m in this situation.” I look up the number in my PDA. “If I call now, I’ll get his voice mail.”

“Dan Hollings.”

“Oh, hi,” I stammer. “I was expecting voice mail.”

“The early bird gets the worm, you know. Besides, this rings through to my cell. I’m actually in my car. On my way to get a client.”

I am a woman on a mission. “I needed to cancel our lunch on Friday, Dan. I’m going to Taiwan this afternoon.” I give that special mixture of serious business tone combined with deep regret. It’s Academy Award quality.

“Perfect,” he answers. “Maybe I could meet you at the airport for lunch before your flight out?”

Ack! I knew I threw too much sorrow in the voice. I should have gone for all business. The Screen Actors Guild would revoke my card.

“I’m flying out of SFO,” I say, waiting for him to tell me no, he was expecting San Jose.

“Right. So noon okay?”

I slap my forehead. I gave him way too much info. When will I learn to shut up? If I’d just said I was too busy to see another man in one week . . . “Yes, noon is fine,” I murmur.

“Great. I’ll see you at noon. At the Japanese place.”

“Wonderful.”

“You’re such a loser,” Brea says as I hang up.

I choose not to rehash the Bloomingdale’s incident, or that this date is courtesy of Brea’s insecurity. I rise above it. I’m that good of a friend. “Yeah, thanks for your support.”

Brea is wearing her running gear, a darling gray and pink sweat suit, most likely from Nordstrom. She looks way too cute to sweat and, considering her size, it seems wasteful of good clothing to me. Her pugs are nipping at her feet, ready for their morning run.

“The dogs can keep up with you?” I ask, looking at their stubby legs.

“No, they go with me in the Burley.”

“The what?”

“The Burley. It’s a jogging stroller.” She points out the window and there is a bright red and yellow stroller contraption for children, complete with the raised orange safety flag and rain jacket.

“You do
not
take dogs in that.”

“They’re my babies.” She picks one of them up and cuddles it close to her cheek. “At least for another two months.”

“I’m seriously worried about you. You need that kid. Get one. I’m going to work.”

“Aren’t you going to eat? There’s Atkins bars in the closet.”

Poor Brea. She thinks sugarless soy bars are breakfast. You at least need caffeine to call it breakfast. “I’m stopping for a mocha.”

“Hitting those kinda heavy, aren’t you?” Brea’s pert little nose crinkles.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to get off the sauce, but you know.”

She slaps me in her playful way. “Shut up. I only meant that you’re always complaining about clothes not fitting and all.”

I shrug. “I can buy new clothes. Speaking of which, I’m leaving my laundry here,” I announce. “Can I pick it up clean after my trip?”

“After you just cut down my babies?” She starts baby-talking to the dogs.

“Dan Hollings on Friday,” I say. It’s all the push she needs.

“Yes, I’ll do the laundry. E-mail me when you get there, okay? I’ll be happy when you get a normal job and stick around.”

“This is a normal job in Silicon Valley. Jogging your dogs in a Burley? Not so much.”

Brea has the thighs to prove she runs her dogs. I have the thighs to prove another mocha isn’t going to hurt my svelte figure.

Brea kisses my cheek. “Plan a vacation.” Those are her parting words and I ramble into work, excited to have my precious Audi back. At least some things in life work right.

Dianna is out this morning. Last night’s harrowing phone answering session must have done her in. Be kind, I admonish myself. But Lord, does it have to be to
everybody?
Can’t we pick and choose? I silently whine.

Purvi’s here but on the phone, probably keeping some poor soul up in Taiwan. It’s midnight there. I clean up my desk as best I can and leave as much for Dianna to do as humanly and humanely possible. Then, I make some phone calls while I wait for final marching orders from Purvi, which will send me back to the confounded airplane and brown air. In the meantime, I’m jamming to get the newest tech drawings outlined for the patent office.

“I’ll have final paperwork to you within the hour,” Purvi shouts as she passes my office.

“Wait. Am I on the three o’clock flight?”

“Yes, you’re booked. Dianna has your confirmation information on her desk.”

Purvi waves me off for the attention of some VP.

I turn around and Dianna is in my face with a piece of paper.

“I thought you weren’t in yet,” I say to her.

“Been here for an hour.”

“I worked at home,” I say in some mock competition. “Tell Purvi the docs for the Incline project is on her desk.” I flip my hair, which of course, doesn’t move.