Kismet or Happenstance? Ch. 06

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"But that was an entirely different situation. I'm not the same person I was back then."

"And what about Sean?"

"He's nothing like Chris." Or anyone else for that matter. "It's not the same."

"I know," Michelle said with complete certainty. "I hope you do too."

"What do you mean?"

"You weren't in love with Chris."

Ana's insides tightened. Was she saying? Wait. Technically, Michelle hadn't said anything. Oh, she was good. She was going to let it just hang in the air, unspoken and make Ana figure it out for herself.

"Ana?"

Or maybe not.

"I'm here," she said quietly.

"What are you thinking?"

You just planted a bunch of mini bombs over here and set the timer. You know I'm going to be analyzing everything you just said for days. If you weren't my best friend, I'd...I'd. Ugh. I can't even be pissed at you!

"I know what you're tying to say and you mean well—"

"But?"

"It's only been a few months. Sean and I are still getting to know each other."

Michelle slinked out of her pink bulldozer and crept into stealth mode. "Mm-hmm." She might as well have said: "Girl, please."

"I'll cross that bridge when...if we got to it. I'm just trying to enjoy life right now, just as it is, without everything having to be lined up ahead of time. Didn't you and Sasha tell me to be happy and just go for it?"

"Yeah," Michelle conceded.

Ana cut Michelle off before she added anything more. "That's what I'm doing—on my terms, my way."

Nothing like invoking Ole Blue Eyes to punctuate a statement with a slam dunk. She was suddenly glad for the miles of country between them as she pictured the look on Michelle's face right now.

"Okay—and you do sound happy every time we talk," Michelle said gently. "And I didn't mean you have to have it all figured with Sean. Feelings don't have a timeline and they don't give you advance notice.

Her gentle persistence made Ana smile and suddenly she wished there weren't miles of country between them. Phones and emails were great but it just wasn't the same. She blinked several times at the acidic sting behind her eyes.

"You're quiet over there."

"Talking like this reminds me how much I miss you."

"I know," Michelle said emphatically. "I'm saving money so I can come visit. You better be doing the same!"

"I am," Ana swore. "I might able visit after the holidays because, there's word at the office Medusa's going to be promoted to senior vice president of design. If Stacy replaces her, it could mean promotions for a bunch of us—including yours truly."

Michelle chuckled. "I still can't believe you guys call her Medusa!"

"Girl, I almost slipped up one time and said it to her face!" Ana cringed at the memory.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes! I think I stuttered a few times trying to cover it—she must've thought I was some weirdo. The funny thing is I've never even called her by that name to anyone in the office; I've just gotten used to hearing it all the time."

"Do you think she knew?" Michelle asked in a hushed voice.

"No 'cause the next day she asked me to design a necklace for her. The way she asked was classic," Ana laughed.

"Okay?"

Ana hurried to explain. "Picture Meryl Streep again in the Devil Wears Prada—the whole constipated whisper going on."

Michelle's laughter rolled in Ana's ear. "You're so bad."

"If you met her you'd understand that I'm not exaggerating one bit. I swear everybody at the office who's seen the movie goes: 'she's just like Miranda Priestley!'."

"Okay, so I come back from my lunch break and there's this note on my desk asking me to come to her office. And I'm thinking: 'Oh, shit! This can't be good.' I go to her office and I have to wait 'cause she's in a meeting. And I'm sitting there wondering why she'd want to see me; we rarely meet up or speak. So I go in and she has this weird look on her face."

Ana now realized it must have been the woman's unease at having to ask a subordinate and vague acquaintance for something personal in nature.

Michelle hung on every word as Ana imitated her boss' pinched, snooty whisper. "Then she starts: I understand you made the necklace pendant Claudia is wearing. Like it's killing her to say she liked it! Then she goes: I was wondering if you could design something for me—something different of course."

"Of course," Michelle echoed, pitch perfect. Their conversation went on, weaving in and out of the two lives being lived on opposite coasts until the time zones and miles between them faded.

"I've been meaning to tell you, I got the pictures from Simon today."

* * * * *

The web address for Simon's discussion board was still waiting to be chosen when Ana put down the phone. She clicked the mouse, deciding on quick peek before she got back to the contacts for the charity event. Besides, Simon's board teemed with advice on workplace politics and power games. A shift in rank was occurring at DesignHause and if the fundraiser turned out well, it might give the new kid on the block some recognition as a candidate for a promotion.

She scrolled through the posts on remaining neutral and making great accomplishments appear effortless. But the, most active discussions weren't about the workplace and how to get your colleagues to worship you. No, the juiciest, most controversial posts were about personal relationships. Ana had even contributed to some online drama at one time. She pointed the arrow to her lasts posts and there it was: the big blow-up. Her eyes drifted over the crossfire between his coolly crafted words and her thinly veiled barbs.

PacificCoastRiff. His handle was evocative yet in tune with his ambiguous posts. He had a way of steering a discussion to unexpected vistas with fewer than fifty words. He'd accumulated less than four-hundred posts in his three year tenure. But when he posted, it was the whisper that quieted the clatter of mindless noise and made every ear strain to hear it. Board members treated his replies like a revered king's anointing tap on the shoulder from the edge of his sword.

But the lure of PacificCoastRiff's persona hadn't been the reason why she'd sent him a private message to compliment him on his thoughts on the media frenzy surrounding certain Hollywood starlets: He didn't find the media's presentation of female sex appeal to be remotely sexy—it encouraged women to oversell yet undervalue themselves, leaving little in the way of true intrigue or substance. It wasn't amazement that his words had elevated a tabloidy subject—clearly outside Riff's interests— into a thought provoking discussion that made her want to befriend him.

No, other board members told her Riff knew Simon Garret. Ana didn't know to what extent, but she hoped she'd get Riff to share his impressions of Simon. The website had been created so its members and their thoughts were the stars, leaving little of Simon's personality to haunt the space. She desperately looked for any tidbit on Simon to guide her on how best to approach him and what to expect if they ever met. If indeed Gideon Garret and Simon Garret were one in the same person.

A week had passed before Riff replied but the delay had been worthwhile, it wasn't the terse thank you she'd expected. He'd welcomed her to the discussion board and teased her about being a lurker, encouraging her to post. It turned out to be a cruel irony when she finally accepted his invitation to the ball. There'd swapped a few more private messages but Riff kept the focus so precisely on her, Ana had found no natural segue into his rumored friendship with Simon.

She'd been picking over her regrets about her split with Chris by then. He'd been the one to speak the words, but Ana had burrowed in a cave of grief and guilt, essentially vanishing from their relationship months before. Chris, being a gregarious extravert, always needed to be with someone, he didn't do alone well or for long. Ana knew and accepted that he'd move onto some nameless, faceless woman. But the face he'd turned to a scant three weeks later had been a familiar one: Vanessa Hudson, the co-worker who'd played matchmaker for Chris and her.

The speed and intimacy of their union raised all kinds of questions. They denied ever having gone out while Ana and Chris were still a couple, but Ana suspected word games. Cheating started before penetration. Something had been going on. Vanessa's treacly hellos and shifty eyes reeked of guilt. Chris no longer parked in front of the design studio as he'd done when he picked up Ana for lunch dates. He stashed the getaway car in the rear parking lot where they were no windows to witness his arrival. They'd professed to doing it all out of consideration for Ana's feelings.

At the time, Ana only saw two people paying lip service to caring about her feelings so they didn't have to own their duplicity. Every secretive maneuver drew more and more of the attention they'd sought to avoid. That new injustice paired with the one that robbed her of her mom, bred anger. An ire so ferocious it invigorated a body and spirit once quieted by depression. The bitter taste of loss and being left behind was too much. The ten months of silent withholding in grief and bafflement were over. While scouring the posts on Simon's website for possible strategies to arm herself against the army of victim antics Vanessa paraded at the office, Ana had found a target worthy of her wrath: PacificCoastRiff.

How ironic that mere weeks before she'd understood why his online persona fascinated everyone. To the women who openly flirted with him, Riff was a rogue pirate in modern clothes. A man who clearly thought there was much more to appreciate about a woman than bedding her. He embraced the idea of falling for a woman's charms. There was no forced machismo in his posts, sometimes he'd flirt back but he wasn't preoccupied with being liked. That made him all the more appealing. He was the brave gladiator among the men, only he'd traded in the sword and shield for sharp wit and intellect. Riff didn't apologize for being a man. His opinions didn't always fall in line with the consensus because he didn't view consensus as a barometer to skip independent thought. His popularity was a product of him not caring about popularity. The fact that he was part of Simon's inner circle added to his allure.

Ana rolled the dial, the words that started it all framed in the monitor like a photograph. It was Riff's response to a thread about a guy who enjoyed casual sex with a woman while she wanted a bona fide relationship. The author was on the horns of dilemma: burst her romantic bubble or inflate it by omitting the truth with the word games Ana despised. Riff sauntered into the discussion full of his trademark swagger and brevity: Why do you need to apologize for knowing you don't want a long term relationship? Treat her like the adult she is and let her decide for herself. Wouldn't you want the same thing?

It appeared refreshingly direct at first, but that was before anger had washed her filter clean. She had weeded through the old threads and collected other pieces before she launched her critique.

I don't hold back with a woman. I enjoy her completely for however long or short we decide. I expect her to do the same.

I don't give up because she's too complicated, too much of a challenge or because I made mistakes. I give up when her wanting me doesn't matter anymore.

The verdict was in: Riff was no swashbuckling cyber hero, he was the goodwill ambassador for shitty boyfriends and players worldwide. And Ana wasn't going to sit back and let him wax philosophical when all she saw was the old love 'em and leave 'em bullshit being spun into eighteen karat gold. Oh, Chris would have loved Riff.

Chris had been the one she craved lashing out against but Ana wouldn't give him or Vanessa the satisfaction of seeing her break. She wouldn't make it easy for them to cast her in the bitchy ex-girlfriend role. No, Ana went to work early every day and sucked it up, just so Vanessa could writhe in her underhanded filth. The shifty eyes and squirming that once annoyed and aroused suspicion transformed into a perversely satisfying balm. But it wasn't enough. She'd felt cast aside and left behind. They were happily living their lives without a care, as if Ana had misplaced a set of keys.

After a month of being harnessed, the angry energy demanded its release. Ana shook her head as she read her words. She felt a mix of empathy and embarrassment for the woman who'd typed them more than a year ago. Even then she'd known her anger was misdirected, but the cloak of anonymity and Riff's cavalier charm were too tempting and safe an outlet to pass up. She'd kept her tone civil, lest it be easy for him to disregard her comments as trollish. But Riff's reply made it clear he felt no need to defend his statements; he had no control over the way she interpreted them, especially since she worked so diligently in compiling and sifting out his posts to arrive at her conclusion. He then zeroed in her motivation behind her criticism.

CuriousBloom,

...Let me venture a guess. There's an ex or soon to be ex-boyfriend around you. Maybe he justifiably earned the title through bad behavior. Maybe the reason you don't have what you want doesn't rest squarely on someone else's shoulders. Maybe instead of lambasting me for being direct about who I am and what I want, you might choose to ask yourself some questions about how you got where you are. Did you pay enough attention to figure out what he needed and if you could provide it? ...Of course, I don't know the particulars of your life, as you don't know mine. However I do find more often than not, if you're engaged and engaging you're less likely to be "played".

PacificCoastRiff

The cool way he put Ana in her place while reducing her to a tired cliché left her incensed. It was as if he'd known where she lived and aimed his crossbow precisely at the righteous part of her indignation. She didn't want to think about the deluge of Chris' voicemails she left unanswered, or her curt, indifference when they spoke. She didn't want to think of how she'd treated him like he barely existed. She didn't want to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe she'd pushed Chris away and into Vanessa's waiting arms. Going another round with Riff was so much better than self-reflection. But it he ended it as abruptly as she'd started it.

Ana winced inwardly as she read Riff's last words to her. He'd called her abusive and promptly removed himself from their exchange. She swirled the mouse and clicked on his account profile like she'd done the handful of times she logged into the website over the past months. The screen morphed into a private message format with another click of the mouse. The cursor flashed and flashed. Each blink was an option: apologize or not. The cursor vanished and appeared as Ana deliberated. A year has passed. He's forgotten by now. She hit the back button. Riff hadn't logged into the site since mid July. The time to say "I'm sorry" had long expired. Besides, she'd meant most of what she'd posted only she regretted the tenor she'd used to express her thoughts.

She shook her head and logged out of the forum. "What a tool."

She looked out the window. The words didn't assuage the fact that someone out there had valid reason to call her the same thing—or worse. They'd never cross paths online again or in real life. Content with that fact, Ana picked up her pen and made a list of things to do for the fundraiser.

* * * * * *

Tuesday, November 21st.

Medusa. The nickname had been thrown around the office like a baseball. Tonight the name was Ana's muse. She duplicated the sinuous movements of a snake as the pencil danced across her sketchpad in precise glides. Camille Pratt-Mendoza—Medusa Mendoza, as DesignHause employees secretly baptized her—wanted a necklace pendant that reflected change. The specificity of her boss' request caught Ana's attention. Camille hinted she might be moving away. And since most of the senior executives were based in San Francisco, Ana suspected the rumors about her boss' promotion must be rooted in truth. The image for the pendant popped in her mind as they spoke about Camille's preferences. A rustic sailboat tucked in the waves; charting new seas, all curving lines to offset Medusa's angular personality. Her sketchpad flopped onto the coffee table. The pencil landed on it then rolled off next to the photo album.

Ana had a hard time concentrating because of mantuition. Her eyes darted to the laptop on her desk, to the white orchid then through the bamboo blinds covering the window. Mantuition. That's what Sasha called it when a man contacted you shortly after he'd been evicted from your mind space. Apparently Chris had great mantuition.

"You look serious."

Ana jumped. "You scared me," she said, looking up at Sean before he joined her on the couch. His tousled hair made him look boyish but his bare chest and low-slung navy sweats were very adult...and sexy. He'd come over from practice exhausted, saying he'd missed her. The last two weeks of playing at nightclubs plus working during the day were starting to catch up with him. He'd taken a shower and crashed a short while after arriving. Just knowing he was near felt good. The air felt lighter, her home more alive whenever he visited. He draped her legs over his lap, his hands resting on them.

His voice still carried the husky remnants of sleep when he asked, "What's up?"

He knew Ana had difficulty sleeping this time of the month but the pensive set of her brows said something was on her mind.

Her feet shifted in his lap; her eyes scanned his. "You really want to know?"

He gave her a half-smile. "When you say it like that—yeah," he affirmed softly.

He felt her toes twitch beneath his palms. "I got an email from my ex."

He petted her paws while he mentally scratched off a list of adjectives for the pale nail polish. Beige. Sand.

"He wanted to see how I was doing with the second anniversary just passing."

Sean kept a neutral face as he listened. He'd taken Ana for a sunset ride on one of his brother's bikes that day. Just passing? What a dumbass. But just in case Ana needed pointing in the right direction he supplied, "That was almost two months ago."

He didn't think he needed to add, "that's kinda late" surely Ana would catch the implied meaning and he wasn't about to lay it on too thick. Not when Dumbass was doing such a stellar job. Still he studied her face for any signs.

Her left brow rose. Good sign. "Well if you knew Chris—you'd be surprised he remembered at all."

Maybe not so good.

"Besides, we weren't on the friendliest of terms after we split up."

Start taking notes, Brennan.

His voice stayed even, as if they were talking about the color of her nail polish. "What happened?"

Her brown eyes narrowed on his face. For a second Sean wondered why they were even talking about some guy in Florida who'd left the picture over a year ago. Cause you asked? And it's good to know where he fucked up so you don't do the same thing.

"You want the sound bite or the gory details?" she asked with the dimple and that light in her eyes that said the guy was done for.

"Which ever you prefer."

"Short story: We broke up and he started going out with my co-worker who introduced us three weeks later."

He would have left it at that but a look passed over her face and she lowered her eyes. "But?"

"I shut out Chris right after my mom."

Since that day in the stairwell Sean noticed how rarely Ana used "died". She'd say "passed" or "gone" or let it float unspoken like she did now. He rubbed her leg. It was an ache that she'd learn to accept but one that wouldn't completely fade. He didn't think anyone could ever completely get over seeing their mother die in front of them like that.