Keeping Guard Ch. 03

The rest of the day went by without incident, and before long it was time to start the preparations for the next day. I left John to help the last of the customers as I went to the back and pulled out a clipboard to check if any of my ingredients were about to pass their expiration dates. I was just getting to the bottom of the list when John poked his head around the corner.

"Megan? There's someone here to see you."

I was half expecting my mother to be back once again before I registered the look on John's face and the edge in his voice. I came out into the front of the shop to the sight of Jerry, Charles' campaign manager.

To say he was a slimy creep was putting it mildly. Jerry had been around since the very beginning of Charles' political career, and had a bag of tricks bigger than any magician. He was well connected in countless industries, both legitimate and otherwise, and from day one had made my skin crawl every time I saw him.

"Meg." His gravelly voice oozed a smarmy self-confidence.

"Jer," I answered, keeping my guard up and trying not to let him see how uncomfortable he made me. There was silence as we sized each other up. It had been a while since I'd had to suffer his presence, and I was not surprised to note that his poor diet and lack of exercise had finally left him as big around as he was tall.

"Mind if I have a word?" he asked before shooting a glare at John. "Alone?"

I gestured to the back and Jerry made his way to the office. I took a deep breath and prepared to follow him, then remembered John was still watching warily.

"I think we're about done for the day, so why don't you head home?" I said. I would still need to count up the cash register and get the prep work for the next day finished, but I could manage that on my own.

John hesitated, still casting suspicious looks toward the office. "Everything OK?" he asked.

I sighed, not sure how to answer that question. "It's fine," I finally said. "He's Charles' campaign manager, probably just here to give me my instructions for tomorrow."

The explanation didn't seem to put him any more at ease, but John did at least begin to leave. I grabbed his coat out of the back and traded him for his apron. "Same time tomorrow?" he asked.

"How about a half hour later," I replied, remembering how quickly we had gotten ready that morning. I had been so looking forward to the prospect of the next day until I remembered it was Election Day. On his way out he turned to say something, but decided against whatever it was and left without another word.

After locking the front door I went to my office and found Jerry in my chair with his feet up on the desk. I considered speaking up but decided to let it go, having learned long ago to pick my battles with the man. I sat down on the stool in the corner just as the assault began.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jerry kept his voice low, his menacing tone enhanced by his gruff voice.

Confused, I asked the obvious question: "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about hiring that guy to work for you." He put his feet down so he could roll the chair over to me, bringing his permanent stench of cigars and stale sweat even closer.

I tried to keep my voice even as I formed my reply. "He got fired because of me, it was the least I could do."

Jerry gave an exasperated huff. "You're playing with fire. Do you have any idea how much the press would love for the two of you to get together? This is a TV movie in the making and you're pressing your luck just having him around."

"I'm sure it's nothing you couldn't handle," I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"And where's your ring?" he asked, eyeing my bare finger.

"Look, I don't see what the big deal is. No one has been around to interview me or take any pictures or do anything that would jeopardize your precious campaign."

He snorted. "You don't get it. You've never gotten it: this is a 24/7 business. Any crackpot with a camera phone can drum up speculation at any time, and it's worse when there's actually something to speculate about. If people see you hanging around with some hot young thing they're going to form their own conclusions instead of the ones we decide on."

I took a deep breath to stay calm before I answered. "Jerry, no one is looking forward to moving on as much as I am. I've already talked to Charles about how I'm supposed to behave through the election, and I'm all set to play the doting fiancée tomorrow night. But that's the last thing I'm doing for him. As soon as the polls close I get my life back, and I'm going to make sure that's one campaign promise he sticks to."

"Oh please," he scoffed, "do you really think we want you around any longer than we have to?"

I fumbled for words, not quite sure where the conversation was going.

He shook his head. "You really thought you were something special to him, didn't you?"

I balked at his statement. "Well we were engaged after all."

"Come on," he laughed, "I've been vetting your replacement for months."

He gave the statement a moment to sink in before he continued. "Two months from now, Charlie will be spotted with a very respectable young lady spending a very respectable evening at the theater. A few months later they'll announce their engagement, and country clubs all across the state will be falling all over themselves to host the blessed event."

I stared at him.

"Then after another term, two at the most, my boy will be tapped to run for president. He'll run a clean campaign, stick to the middle of the road on the issues, and before you know it he'll be a bona fide leader of the free world."

My mouth hung open, and I had to remind myself to breathe. "And no one will wonder what happened to me?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm going to plant a story in all the major media archives about your mutual decision to quietly and respectfully part ways," he replied. "No one will remember it happening, but the proof will be right there in black and white."

"Why even bother being here for the election? Why not start the new term with Little Miss Country Club?"

"Because like it or not, we're still riding the wave of your little publicity goldmine. Now listen, if everything goes as it it's supposed to, everyone gets what they want: Charles gets his reelection, I get my bonus, and you get to disappear from the limelight like it never happened. I can make sure no one ever shoves a microphone in your face or flashes a camera in your eyes, but only if you play nice."

I dropped my eyes and sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Atta girl," he beamed before rattling off his instructions.

He had decided that the typical pastel-suit-and-pearls look would send the wrong message, so I was instructed to wear a dressier version of my normal work clothes. Tomorrow I would close the bakery early so a team of caterers and waiters could sweep in to take care of setting everything up while I went home to get ready. Before the polls closed everyone on the campaign would assemble, and be served food that they would all assume I had made. After the results came in and the victory was celebrated, Charles and his team would be out of my life forever.

After all the arrangements were made I walked Jerry to the door, eager to get him out.

"By the way," he glanced over his shoulder toward the counter where John had been standing. "Make sure your new eye candy doesn't show his face here tomorrow."

I slammed the lock on the door as soon as he was out, and stalked back to the office fuming. My anger quickly gave way to frustration, then eventually to misery. I kept trying to remind myself that all this would be over soon, that I could get back to living my life the way I wanted. But Jerry's disclosure that I was just a pawn in his political game had rattled me, and I began to wonder what other parts of my life had been manufactured. Had anything about our relationship been real?

I went through the motions of preparing for the next day, but my heart wasn't in it. If we were closing early I wouldn't need to make as much food, and I considered not even bothering to open at all. In the end I decided to stick with the plan, which meant I had a call to make. I fumbled through the papers on my desk until I found a scrap of a receipt where John had scrawled his phone number in case of an emergency.

After four rings it went to voicemail, but I couldn't get the words together in time to leave a message. I hung up the phone and slumped in my chair, eyeing the piles of paperwork on my desk that I never seemed to get around to organizing. My gaze landed on a tax form that John had filled out that morning, my feeble effort to get him officially on the books as a paid employee. As I vaguely wondered what I was supposed to do with the form once he had filled it out I noticed his address, and realized it was on my way home.

As I pulled on my jacket I tried to reassure myself that I was being a responsible employer, that if I couldn't reach John on the phone then I really had no choice other than to tell him in person that he had the next day off. If I left him a message, how could I be sure he would get it? Wouldn't I feel terrible if he came to work the next morning when he could have slept in?

In the end, not even I was convinced. I made the short trip to his apartment because I wanted to see him, wanted to spend more time with him, just wanted to be around him. A part of me was convinced that I was suffering from nothing more than a schoolgirl crush that would evaporate once I saw him outside of work, but another part of me was dying to find out for sure.

I took a deep breath before knocking on his door, trying not to let my imagination take over. I pictured him being thrilled to see me, inviting me inside to share the dinner that just happened to be ready right at that moment. My face held an expectant smile as the door opened.

My smile froze as I found myself face to face with a woman.

She had a shock of magenta hair, and wore a body-hugging black dress complete with killer knee-high boots. "Can I help you?" Her voice was friendly and relaxed, like she was used to receiving guests at that door.

"Sorry," I stammered, eventually finding my voice buried deep in the back of my throat. "I'm not sure I have the right apartment. I'm looking for John?"

"Come on in! He's just in the kitchen, though I'm not sure he's having much success." She stepped aside as I crossed the threshold, then closed the door behind me. "John, you have more company!" she called.

His head poked around a door at the end of the narrow hallway, and immediately he broke into a broad grin. The woman looked between the two of us and smirked before slinking away.

For a long moment neither of us said anything, and I found I could not meet his gaze. Suddenly the idea of coming to see him seemed ridiculous, and I cursed myself for not just leaving him a message. A wave of disappointment washed over me as the situation came into focus: not only had I been flirting with a man who was unavailable, but he had been flirting back. My faith in men as a species had been seriously tested lately, and this did nothing to help their image.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed to say, "I didn't realize I would be interrupting."

"No, I'm glad you're here," he replied, and sounded like he meant it. "I'm trying to cook dinner and it's not going very well."

I managed a weak smile. "Are you sure your girlfriend won't mind?"

"I don't have a..." for a moment he looked confused, then burst out laughing. "Who, Carrie? Please, she wouldn't date me if I was the last person on earth."

As much as I tried to hide it, the rush of relief spreading through my body must have been obvious. My face flushed as I grasped for a response, finally settling on a neutral topic. "So, what's the problem?"

"I agreed to host a dinner party," he said simply, and it was explanation enough to understand his dilemma.

I sighed, resigned to the fact that I had chosen the worst possible person in the world to work in my bakery. I pulled off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves as I followed him into the kitchen to survey the damage.

"Everyone, this is Megan," John announced to the small group of people in the living room half an hour later. We had managed to get dinner back under control and to an edible stage, though it had been touch and go for a while.

"You've already met Carrie," he said, nodding to the colorfully-haired woman, "and that's her fiancé Ryan." The two were sharing an enormous chair, and leaped up as one to greet me.

"So this is the famous Megan," Ryan said with a grin. John looked embarrassed as he went on with the introductions.

"This is Julia, and her husband Ben," John nodded to a woman with wavy brown hair sitting on the couch and the bespectacled man with his arm around her waist. They too greeted me warmly.

"And that's Bob," John said, indicating the beanpole of a man gazing out the window. Bob turned and raised his glass in greeting, sloshing his drink over the side.

"Oops, slippery!" He wiped his foot against the puddle he had made on the laminate floor, effectively spreading it out even more.

John shook his head and sighed. "Yes, that's Bob," he whispered.

"Are you joining us for dinner?" Julia asked, and all eyes in the room flitted between me and John.

I suddenly felt self-conscious in my work clothes, tugging at the hem of my long-sleeved t-shirt. Even John had changed into a dress shirt and khakis, and I was acutely aware of how under-dressed I was compared to the rest of the guests.

Before I could mutter an apology or make an excuse to leave, John wrapped a reassuring arm around me. "Of course she is," he said. "If she wants to of course." I smiled up at him in response.

We sat down to dinner around John's little dining table, and managed to all fit comfortably despite the small space. The conversation flowed freely as I got to know all about John's friends.

Carrie, in a theatrical voice she seemed to save for embarrassing stories, explained how she and John had met. Her sister had set the two of them up on a blind date, but within minutes of meeting each other they both acknowledged it would never work out between them. After that realization they were able to have an enjoyable evening, and had been friends ever since.

"Fair warning, the man has no game," she told me in a conspiratorial whisper. We giggled until John gave us a puzzled look and we did our best to stifle our laughter.

I found out that Carrie owned an art gallery, and had met her accountant fiancé Ryan at a particularly energetic night of speed dating. "We were both there to support friends and weren't actually looking for anyone," Carrie said.

"Yeah, and our friends are both still single," Ryan chimed in with a chuckle.

I laughed along, idly wondering if John was the friend with whom Carrie had gone.

"Say, would you mind if I came to your bakery and looked at your food?" Carrie asked as she passed me a plate of garlic bread. "I have a photographer looking to shoot a new series and he has his heart set on food. If nothing else I can probably get you some new art to hang on the walls!"

Julia and Ben were the quieter of the two couples by far, but still conveyed a warmth and friendliness that made me like them immediately. The two had met through work, and were making plans to start their own advertising firm.

As dinner progressed I learned that Ben and John had met when a mutual friend tried to organize a regular poker game among all his male buddies. The game had long since fallen apart, but had stayed together long enough for Ben and John to become friends.

Over dessert I mentioned my interest in getting into cake decorating, and before I knew it Ben and Julia had come up with the beginnings of a marketing strategy for the project. Julia proposed some great advertising ideas, and Ben threw out a few suggestions for layouts and designs.

"We're looking for clients if you're interested," Julia said.

"And you'd be our first, so you'd have our full attention," Ben added.

To my utter amazement, Bob turned out to be a physics professor. He and John had known each other since grade school, where he spent so much time buried in books that he never developed many social skills. Despite his awkwardness he did manage to sound sincere when I talked to him, even if it was impossible to follow what he was talking about.

Once all the food was gone and the drinks were finished the evening wound down. At the first sign of a stifled yawn the guests began to disperse, and the usual "we should do this more often" and "don't be a stranger" pleasantries were exchanged. After getting a hug goodbye from everyone (including Bob, who seemed startled at his own actions), I found myself the last person left.

After John closed the front door an expectant silence stretched between us, neither quite sure what to say. "Your friends are very nice," I finally managed.

"They are, aren't they?" He sounded as though the concept had never occurred to him before. "They definitely took a liking to you."

I smiled, remembering the warm reception I had been given by the room full of strangers and the help they had offered to me and my business. They had definitely given me some ideas for the future.

"Do you need some help cleaning up?" I offered.

He glanced toward the kitchen, a pained look on his face. "You don't have to do that, you helped so much already."

My mind drifted back to the scene when I first entered the kitchen: pots boiling over, wisps of smoke rising from the oven, and the acrid burning smell that greeted my nose.

"Besides, I don't think I'm up to it tonight," he answered as a smirk crept onto his face. "Maybe tomorrow I'll have the energy to tackle it."

I nodded, beginning to feel the effects of the late hour. "Well, I'd better get going," I said as I rose from the couch.

A look crossed his face that I could have sworn was disappointment, but he nodded and went to get my jacket. When he returned he asked, "Was there something you came here to tell me?"

The evening had been so pleasant that I had completely forgotten the reason I was here. I avoided his eyes as I slipped my jacket on and adjusted the collar, then cleared my throat as I tried to think of the best way to tell him.

"Why don't you take the day off tomorrow?" I asked after my hesitation.

He gave me a confused look for a moment before the information sunk in. "Are those the instructions you got today?"

I nodded.

He sighed. "Is that really what you want?"

A moment of silence passed between us before he continued. "Look, if my boss tells me to take the day off I'm not going to say no, but only if you're sure that's what you want."

I had never thought of myself as a boss before. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it had been a very long time since I got what I really wanted. The realization made me laugh, and wonder why I had ever let my life become like this.

"You know, there are too many people telling me what to do right now," I replied, still smiling at the feeling of freedom that was starting to blossom inside of me. "It's high time I stand up for myself and do what I want to do."

"And what do you want to do?"

There was only one thing I wanted to do right at that moment, and I had wanted to do it for a very long time. I covered the space between us in two strides, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

A grunt of surprise greeted me as I pressed my lips against his, but he soon responded by wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me toward him. All the lingering stress I had been feeling seemed to melt away, leaving me with a remarkable feeling of calm. I ran my fingers through his hair as his arms tightened around me.