Believe Me, It's You Read online

  “I was thinking, let's just cut it to about shoulder length, and then I won't have to worry about getting it cut for a while, but I can still put it up in a pony--”

  “No,” Maria cut her off. “You are not coming in here with this gorgeous long hair and leaving with a shoulder length bob, looking like a soccer mom. And the only time you should wear a ponytail is when you're working out.”

  “Okay. Do whatever you want. Just nothing complicated that I can't ever recreate,” Eva said. She didn't really care that much, as long as it didn't look weird for tonight.

  “That's what I love to hear,” Maria said, leading her to the shampoo chair. She shampooed and deep conditioned, clicking her tongue and shaking her head as she worked on Eva's split ends, cutting, combing and then blow drying and curling, all with Eva turned away from the mirror.

  When Maria spun her around with a flourish, Eva was shocked to see beautiful, soft, shiny dark waves framing her face and ending just beneath her breasts.

  “Wow! It looks awesome, Maria!” she meant it, too.

  “You look awesome,” Maria said, obviously proud of her work. She spun her around and handed her a mirror, showing her the back of her hair. It looked so pretty, she didn't want to move.

  “Will it stay in until tonight?” Eva looked up at Maria.

  “Yeah sure. I gave it a light spray. Why? What have you got going on tonight?” Maria smiled, all ears.

  “Oh, just an important meeting,” Eva said.

  “Hmm. Must be some meeting. Knock 'em dead,” she smiled at Eva.

  “Thank you, Maria,” she smiled.

  After her manicure, she walked the four blocks home. She got exactly three rude cat calls and one whistle. She'd gotten a total of none on her way to the salon. Did a good head of hair really matter that much? Guess so, she thought.

  When she got home, she put her new clothes in the closet and looked for something to eat in the refrigerator. She hadn't done much grocery shopping since she got back, just a few necessities. She shuffled things around in the freezer until she located a diet dinner she'd been avoiding for months because it looked disgusting. She liked to watch her weight because she knew how difficult it was to lose. She'd battled 20 pounds all through college, never quite losing the extra weight that made her plump, rather than curvy.

  After she and Paul got married, he convinced her she should run with him to get rid of the extra weight. He routinely got up at 6:00 am and ran ten blocks to the lake and ten blocks back. She eventually took him up on the offer and every morning she'd get up and pull on her running clothes and a new pair of running shoes he'd helped her pick out, and take off with him, letting him pace her, seldom getting too far behind. After three weeks, she noticed her pants feeling baggy and she weighed herself. She'd lost 15 pounds and was amazed she was seeing results. Then one day at work, Michael, the kid who worked in the mail room came in to her office and said, “Wow, you look good. You must be working out!”

  She remembered being surprised and happy someone had noticed, and equally surprised Michael had said it right in front of Paul who happened to be standing next to her desk at the time. That night, after they'd had a particularly hot lovemaking session, Paul laid back in bed and put his hands behind his head.

  “Would you mind too much if I ran by myself from now on?” he asked. She was surprised and hurt. She thought of their runs together as a chance to take time before their busy day and just enjoy each others' company.

  “I like running together, but sure, I guess. I mean, if you're more comfortable running alone,” she finally said, trying to hide her hurt.

  “Don't take it personally, Eva. It's just that I want to really try to open up and see how fast I can run. And I like the solitude. You know, a little time to myself,” he said.

  She tried to understand, and from then on, she started sleeping in until she heard him come home and get in the shower. Alone, she pulled her clothes on and popped her headphones in her ears. She ran to Dr. Dre and Led Zeppelin, Usher and Madonna, letting all her worries fade with every step.

  She soon learned to love running, and missed it when she couldn't do it. Paul continued his solitary runs, and so did she. Eventually, she had to buy all new pants and skirts because, to her surprise, she lost an additional ten pounds. She cut most sweets out of her diet, tried to eat more vegetables, and practically everyone at work was commenting on her new body. She had a tiny waist, great runner's legs and her breasts had somehow remained luscious and full. She still had her softness, but everything was smaller and firmer.

  Paul got grumpy and acted threatened anytime someone complimented her in his presence. At first, Eva had felt flattered-he was jealous. And at night she tried to make him feel better by telling him how sexy he looked and how happy it made her when other women looked at him, because she knew he was hers. He seemed flattered by her words, and they would end up rolling around the living room floor, having sex before dinner, just like when they first met.

  Then one day Carol, another architect at the firm, told her she looked super hot in the form-fitting black dress she had worn that day. She thanked her and told Paul about it when they went to lunch. He said, “Yeah, whatever. Don't you get sick of all that ass-kissing everyone in the office does? I swear, I can't wear a new tie without everyone telling me how awesome it is.”

  She had been hurt, then it occurred to her that after all the work she'd done- running every day, losing weight and getting in shape-he hadn't once told her she looked nice, or that he was proud of her, or even just good job, honey. She sat stunned at that realization. She thought about saying something to him. Like asking him straight up, why? Why haven't you said anything about my weight? Then she thought better of it. They had to go back to work and she didn't want to fight when she had the rest of the day to get through. Later, at home she forgot about it and let him make love to her, and like so many things, let it go. And then, three and a half years into their marriage, he quit making love to her.

  Chapter Six

  After eating her frozen dinner, Eva cleaned up the kitchen, straightened the apartment a bit and by then it was 6:00. She decided to go ahead and get dressed. She went to her bedroom and stripped down, leaving a trail of clothes in her wake. She took out nice underwear and put them on, then took the store plastic off the new dress. She carefully pulled it over her head, trying not to mess up her hair. She grabbed her new shoes, put them on, and walked over to the full length mirror. Oh god. She looked like she was going to a garden party. She should have taken Sarah shopping with her today. She pulled the dress over her head and threw it on the bed. She'd take it back tomorrow. She opened her closet door and began searching for something a woman would wear for a meeting with a gorgeous pop star in her own apartment. She spotted the black velveteen skinny jeans she bought for a casual Christmas party last year. She snatched them and looked frantically for a nice shirt to go with them. She saw a nice, designer fuchsia t-shirt with a feminine cut and a pretty scoop neck and grabbed that. She pulled the clothes on and looked in the mirror. Okay, not bad. She looked nice. Comfortable, but not slobby. She grabbed a pair of black flats, put them on and went in to the bathroom to see what type of damage she had done to her hair. It still looked nice, the big waves and curls easily falling back in to place. She put on a bit of mascara and a pretty lip gloss. She thought about putting on a quick spray of perfume, but decided that might seem a little weird. Like she was trying to seduce him, or something. She was laughing at the thought when there was a knock at the door. She jumped at the sound. Must be a neighbor. It was only 6:30, and anyone coming to the front door would have had to have been buzzed in from downstairs.

  She went to the door and peeped through the hole to see the mid torso of a gigantic African American man looming just outside her apartment door. She hesitated a second, then opened the door.

  “Hey Eva. How's it going? Sorry we're early, but traffic was good,” she looked next to the huge black man to see Dylan standing th
ere, looking somewhat dwarfed. “This is Teddy, my bodyguard. Teddy this is Eva.” She shook Teddy's outstretched hand, regaining her senses and motioning for them both to come in.

  “Sorry, please come in. It's nice to meet you, Teddy,” she said as they all moved into the tiny entryway.

  “Nice to meet you, Ma'am,” he said with a big smile. “I'm not gonna stay, I'm waiting downstairs in the car. I just wanted to make sure Dylan got up alright. Your neighbor opened the door downstairs for us. You might want to talk to him about that,” He laughed an infectious belly laugh and she laughed too.

  “Are you sure you want to wait down there?” she asked.

  “Oh sure, Ma'am. That's my job.” he laughed again.

  “Well, can I get you something to drink? I made coffee. Would you like some to go?”

  “That'd be great, if you don't mind.”

  “I don't mind. How do you like your coffee? What about your driver? Should I fix one for him?” she was fishing through her cupboard for some to go cups she had left over from some event she'd volunteered for last spring.

  “That'd be nice. Black with sugar is fine for me,” Teddy was standing next to her and Dylan was hanging out in the kitchen doorway, watching. How weird is this, she thought.

  After Teddy had taken the two coffees and left, she turned to Dylan and smiled.

  “He seems like a nice guy,” she said.

  “Oh god, yeah. Teddy's great. He's like an older brother to me,” he smiled.

  “What can I get you to drink? Would you like coffee, a soda, some beer?” she was playing hostess, trying to remember if she really did have any beer.

  “Sure, a beer would be great. I'm not much of a soda drinker,” he said. Of course, beer. She rummaged through the fridge, hoping she hadn't thrown out two bottles left over from the last time Sarah and Jack had come to dinner. She located them, stuffed on the door with the ketchup.

  “Is this alright? My friends brought it down from a local microbrewery on the North Shore. I thought it was pretty good,” she turned to hand him the bottle. He was standing right behind her and she almost hit him as she turned around. In her flats, he was about five inches taller, she noted.

  “Looks good,” he said, studying the label and twisting the lid off the bottle. He looked around for the trash.

  “Here, I'll take that,” she took the cap from his hand and tossed it in the trash.

  “Come on in the living room and sit down.” He followed her in and sat back on the sofa, after she did.

  “I like your apartment. It's really nice,” he said, looking around the room. “Do you live here by yourself?”

  “Thank you, yeah it's just me here,” she said, realizing she didn't have anything to drink. “How's your beer, do you like it?”

  “Yeah, it's really good, thanks. Aren't you going to have any?” he was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He had on a hooded sweatshirt with jeans and sneakers. She was relieved she hadn't worn the ridiculous dress. “I'm going to grab a diet soda, if you'll excuse me for a second.” She got up and went to the kitchen. She came back with her soda to find him reading a book on Chicago architecture from her coffee table.

  “This is cool,” he looked up, replacing the book on the coffee table. “I love the buildings here. You have a great skyline.”

  “Yeah, I love Chicago,” she sat down about three feet across from him on the sofa.

  “Are you from here?” he asked.

  “No, I'm from a small town west of the city called Sugar Grove. I moved here to go to college and never left,”she said.

  “What did you study in college?” he asked.

  “I majored in Interior Design and English,”she said.

  “Nice. Did you always want to be an interior designer?” he was studying her face intently. She thought she was going to be the one asking all the questions tonight.

  “Um, no not really,” she laughed and he smiled.

  “Then why'd you major in it?”

  “Well, I wanted to write. But my parents were hard workers.. I felt like I needed to be practical,” she said, looking down at her hands holding her soda. When she looked back up, he was watching her. She shrugged and smiled.

  “So now you're a writer, right? How'd that happen?” he took a swig of his beer and leaned back, one arm spread against the back of the couch.

  “That's a long story. But the short answer is, I was working for architects and I got an opportunity to ghostwrite, thanks to a good friend who works in publishing,” she said, trying to evade the personal mess that was the real reason she was finally writing.

  “Who did you ghostwrite for, that first book?” he asked.

  “I can't really say. It's a legal agreement with my clients. But I can tell you he was a local politician. I've also written for an actress from the '70's who's recovering from cancer, a minister who's wife was involved in a scandal and of course you know Cap,” she smiled.

  “I really liked Cap's book. You did a great job. That's why I wanted to talk to you about helping me write my book. Do you mind if I take this off? It's warm in here,” he said, his hands pulling the waistband of the sweatshirt upward.

  “No, not at all,” she said, catching a glimpse of his muscled back, as he worked the sweatshirt up and over his head. He stood up and pulled his t-shirt down, laying the sweatshirt across the arm of the sofa, neatly. He sat back down and regarded her.

  “I just need to know something,” he looked at her, serious now. “If I don't like the book when it's finished, what happens? Do you still publish it?”

  “No. Not at all. It's your book. You have final say in what it says and what gets published, if anything. You see, we hammer out a contract that both you and I are satisfied with, and you pay me to spend time talking with you and I write your book, based on your objectives. Then, you and I can edit and change what we want and you always have the final say. I won't lie because that's not ethical, and I'll trust that what you tell me is the truth. When we've finished, your lawyers may want to go over the book and make sure you haven't opened yourself up to a lawsuit, and when you and they are satisfied, you publish and have a cocktail party,” she smiled at him and he smiled back.

  “Okay. Could you give me 24 hours to decide?” he asked.

  “Sure, I mean if you need more time...”

  “No, a day will be fine. I don't want to waste your time,” he said.

  “Okay, just let me know. Would you like another beer?”

  “Sure, why not? Don't you want one?” he asked.

  “No, you have it. I don't drink much. I'm kind of a lightweight,” she said. He laughed, getting up and following her into the kitchen. He chucked the empty beer bottle into the recycling bin next to the trash. She handed him the fresh bottle. He looked slender, but muscled in his white t-shirt, his arms flexed as he twisted the lid off the bottle. Young. Eva thought. He looks young and fresh, beautiful and not yet full of shit.

  Instead of going back into the living room, he leaned against the small kitchen table and looked around the kitchen.

  “This is a nice kitchen. Do you like to cook?” he asked.

  “Yes I do. I like baking,”

  “Oh yeah? What do you like to bake?” he asked. She couldn't help herself, and started laughing.

  “I don't know, chocolate cake, I think,” she said.

  “What's so funny?” he laughed too.

  “I feel a little like I'm being interviewed,” she said.

  “How's it feel?” he smiled.

  “Strange, very strange,” she said. She looked at him, leaning against her table and was struck by how easy he was to be with.

  “Yeah, well welcome to my world,” he laughed.

  “I think I'd like doing your book,” she said, suddenly serious.

  “Really? Why?” he seemed like he really didn't know why anyone would want to write a book about him.

  “Because I think you'd be a lot of fun to work with. It'd be nice-a good work experience,”
she said, a bit surprised at her own openness.

  “Me too,” he looked sincere. The buzzer rang and they both jumped.

  “Excuse me a second,” she went to the intercom and pushed it. “Hello?”

  “Hi Ma'am, it's Teddy,” she heard the voice on the other end say. She buzzed him in.

  “Well, I guess that's my cue,” he got up and stretched. “I've got a four hour flight and an hour drive to look forward to.”

  “ I'm sorry. Sounds like a busy life,” she said.

  “It is, but I don't really mind,” he downed the rest of his beer and sat his empty bottle on the table and grabbed his sweatshirt from the living room. Teddy was knocking on the door. He put his hand on the knob. “Thanks for meeting with me, Eva,” he said. “I'll call you tomorrow night.”

  “Sure and you're welcome,” she said. He looked at the doorknob, then turned and gave her a hug.

  “Goodnight, Eva,” he said and slipped out the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Eva woke up the next morning and decided to call Marta to see if she wanted to have lunch. First, she went for a quick run, headphones blasting. While she ran, her thoughts turned to Dylan. She was wanting this job more and more, and not just because it would be a great career boost. And that was a little troubling. She wasn't really developing a crush, was she? So what, she told herself. It was only natural. He was famous and full of charisma, handsome too. If she had to spend the next six to ten months with someone for work, it might as well be someone she looked forward to seeing.

  When she got home, she got a quick shower and called Marta. She was up for lunch, and they set up a time to meet. Eva decided to take some extra time working on her new hairstyle and surprise her. Hell, it would probably shock her to see it out of a ponytail. Eva felt good today. Her run had left her buzzing with energy, and she wanted to get out of the house. She did her make-up and puttered around, too fidgety to sit for long. She finally made herself sit down on the sofa. She grabbed the book Dylan picked up and was looking at, and started to page through it. On the first page it was inscribed, “To Eva, my beautiful girl. You inspire me to build monuments. Love, Paul.”