3. I’ve Just Seen A Face

CHAPTER 3

I'VE JUST SEEN A FACE

JIM STURGESS

The reception area is empty when I get to Sam's office, so I take a seat and wait. Traffic was a nightmare, but what did I expect coming through Hollywood from Pasadena during awards season? I'm doing everything I can to not think about the rejection letter, which means all I'm thinking about is the rejection letter.

"Jamie!" comes a voice from down the hall. Dani runs toward me as I'm setting her coffee on the desk. It doesn't matter what time of day, Dani is always a firecracker.

She has her curly blue and purple hair pulled into her standard bun, and her bright makeup matches the crazy patterns on her clothes. I'm convinced she was single-handedly doing her best to revive retro neon fashion trends. A giant pink bubble pops as she jumps on me, wrapping me in a big hug. Even on the darkest days, Dani could be a beam of sunlight reminding me to keep my head up.

When she finally lets go, I reach into my satchel and hand her a small box wrapped with a cute pink bow. The unmistakable warm, buttery smell wafts up and makes my stomach growl. It's more than I could afford at the moment, but seeing someone else's joy—especially Dani's—is worth it.

"Ahh! Oh my god, you are the best!" She unwraps the box like it's Christmas, tossing the bow aside and pulling out the pastry. She pouts when I decline a taste before she's diving in, melting with euphoria. "Oh, holy fuck. I missed you."

"Yeah, you missed the pastries more, but who could blame you? Those things are pretty damn amazing." We'd been on a date once a few years ago and quickly realized we make much better friends than partners. We haven't seen each other much in the last few months, but she's one of those friendships that picks up right where we left off each time.

"Boo! Seriously though, how are you doing? Still going through the mopey phase?"

I shrug. "I'm pretty sure that's my standard personality, Dani. Sorry." I guess I should accept it now since brooding artist mode is very on-brand for me. "Is Sammy in?"

"He's on a call with some big client he's trying to scoop up before Strax gets their hooks in them. But it's fine. I know exactly who needs the prints." She takes my hand, pulling me toward the large double doors.

I've never been to this department before, but I've seen it from the window in Sam's office. The room is enormous, like an open warehouse with no floors above it. Four floors of offices line one side, all with large windows looking out over the pit of designers. Giant skylights soak the cubicles with California sunshine, trying hard to make it cheerful instead of corporate. Neon lights and garish colors decorate the walls along with motivational posters covered in phrases like ‘The Future is Yours to Create'. It's suffocating—like a zoo for artists. Soulless artists.

All the necessary evils of making a life as a creative in the business realm—squashing any natural talent to turn people into production machines. I'm bombarded by everything I hate, which is about to become exactly what I am—a soulless artist.

I have been fighting hard against joining this kind of place, and now I'm destined to fall victim to the corporate 9-to-5 world out of necessity. I can't imagine there's much comfort in knowing these people pay their bills on time and have full refrigerators. A full-service coffee bar in the back of the room and a pool table certainly seem like perks to selling your soul. But I want to make something that matters. These people settle for making things that bring paychecks. I don't blame them or think any less of them; I just never wanted to be one of them. No one does until they have to.

"So that project is one of Lexi's. You've met her. Right? She's been with us for like ever. Cute, funky hair, kind of cheerful goth vibe to her." She turns and must recognize the blank stare on my face. Her jaw drops open, and she clutches imaginary pearls. "Seriously? Fuck, I swore you met her at a party."

"I don't really get to talk with your creatives much. Most of the time, it's Sam and I with the occasional person or two from sales joining us." I scratch the back of my neck. It's obvious what's coming next if this Lexi person is single. With any luck, she's blissfully married with ten kids. "And I haven't been out with you in a while."

"I hope she's here. You'll love her! She's one of our best and so much fun and?—"

Although I try to hide the sour expression, she catches it. She knows me too well. Her shoulders sag as her face turns sympathetic before she blows another bubble.

"I still don't need a matchmaker, Dani. I'm good."

"Whatever. At least meet her before you shoot her down, big guy. She could be your soulmate, or she could be a really cool person you add to your list of cool ass people to hang out with. Like me." She spins around and bounces toward the back. I wish I had her energy and her outlook on life.

While walking by display mockups and product samples hanging from the walls of each cubicle, I can't avoid noticing a mixture of personal touches added in for fun. The company works on everything from pet products to luxury vehicles, and Sam has a silver tongue for selling their services to anyone and everyone. How else could he afford to have ten designers on staff, a giant building in LA, and a handful of other creative types waiting by the phone for freelance work? He's smart enough to say no, where other companies brag they don't know the meaning of the word.

"Shit, that's a lot of toys. I'm guessing someone's really into pop vinyl figures," I mumble. It shouldn't surprise me when it's the cubicle Dani stops at, tossing the prints down on the desk. I already considered a thousand ways to get out of the conversation that Dani would inevitably drag me into trying to set us up. But looking around at the toys and comic book artwork, I realize I'm a little curious.

"Woah, is that?—"

"A signed Captain America shield from the set? Yes, it is. Someday, ask her about it and you'll get a dissertation on superhero movies, casting, and how long it took her to save for this thing. She waited to get Chase Cooper's autograph for four hours. Four! He's not even the lead!"

"Did you not tell her you have connections, or was this before she worked here?"

"She was new! She still doesn't know, because it's weird, okay? Saying shit like ‘the guy I dated one time used to be roommates with the guy you think is fucking amazing in movies' is crazy."

"Dani, you and Coop have gone out drinking together on more than one occasion. He's your friend. You've been to his house, for fuck's sake."

"Fine, well, you luck out for now since she's not here." Dani taps her watch, and the voice of Mickey Mouse informs us the time is a few minutes past two. "Fuck. I guess she's still on break. Next time, Jamie, I am absolutely introducing you to her. She's really sweet."

"It's probably better for her that you don't." I pull my phone out and hand it to her. "I got the response about the art grant this morning."

"What? That was fast! Why don't you seem happy about it? They didn't say no again , did they?" She takes the phone, and another pout forms as she reads it. She looks up at me and wraps me in another hug. "I'll talk to Sam. There's got to be a couple of jobs we can throw your way soon to get you over the down season."

"Hun, when the down season lasts six months, it's time to move on. I'm okay." She doesn't look like she believes me. "The house is almost paid off and the guy who owns it is working with me to keep the price down, I have options. If I keep helping with his odd jobs around the other properties, he'll knock the rest due down even more. It's still going to take a while to get it fully paid off, but once that's done, I'm considering leaving California."

"You're going to finish fixing the house so you can buy it back, and after that, you'll leave? Where are you going?" Dani sucks in a breath, and her eyes grow wide in fear. "Not your mom's, right? You can't do that, Jamie! You're a brilliant photographer. You hit a rough patch, that's all."

"The offer isn't off the table. In fact, it's still sitting on my dresser, unopened. It doesn't matter, though. It's not like she'd welcome me with open arms or anything." I shrug and shove my hands in my pockets. "I want to try to keep the house, but I need a better job for that. Maybe I could rent it out and move somewhere cheaper. A place I can pick up more stable work."

"I really wish Sam would hire you already. I would love to stare at your face every day in the creepiest way I can. We could give you an office next to mine." She smirks. "Or put you right over here next to Lexi." Her wink looks more like she's got something in her eyes, but I laugh anyhow.

"Eh." I look around the room, and reality sets in hard. "I don't think I can do this, Dani. A few gigs are one thing, but a full-time corporate job? I'm better off finding some kind of maintenance work. If nothing else, I can paint houses."

"You're not that kind of painter, Jamie. Why don't you show your pieces again? Give it another try?"

"I'll think about it, Dani." I won't think about it. She knows that.

"Well, I hope you got that deal with the landlord dude in writing. I don't trust that guy." She digs around in her pockets and pulls out a crumpled wad of cash. "I heard your stomach growling. You have got to stop doing nice shit for other people when it means you're not taking care of yourself. Sam wants to meet with you before you go, but he'll be in this meeting for a bit longer, so swing by next door and get yourself some coffee and something to eat."

"I'm not taking your money. But yeah, I guess the morning slipped away from me."

"Whatever. Use it to get me another coffee. Now go before you start making me cry. I don't want you to leave."

"Thanks, Dani. Be back in a few."

I walk out of the office and into the blinding afternoon sun. It doesn't matter the time of year or how cold the nights get, Southern California can't decide whether it wants the day to be early summer or late summer. I roll my sleeves to my elbows and look up and down the street to spot this coffee shop. Barely three steps out of Sam's office, and my phone buzzes.

Sam

Did Dani ask you to stick around? Need to talk to you about another project.

James

Yeah, I'm grabbing a coffee. Want anything.

Sam

How the hell do you people sleep when you drink that stuff this late in the day?

James

You assume we sleep.

Not surprisingly, it's a boba shop. There might be more bubble tea places in LA than Starbucks. My friend Steve likes spreading the rumor that they're all fronts for some crazy mafia operation. I think he's nuts. I flip through my phone to make sure I have enough money in my bank for this. Dani was right; I'll spend $5 on a pastry for her while I have empty cupboards back home and an even emptier bank account.

I barely glance up as I walk in, trying to squeeze past some stuck-up blonde blocking the door while texting. I read my pathetic bank balance, and I find the end of the short line. I should leave; it's not like I want to be around people right now, anyhow. I glance up to check the menu to find out what I can afford, but before I can, my breath gets knocked right out of me. In front of me stands what might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I've lived in the Los Angeles area my whole life, a land of plastic and high beauty standards, and this woman was outshining every one of them.

She's a few inches shorter than me, probably around five nine, and she's wearing skinny jeans that, for once, look really damn good on someone as they hug and accentuate her soft curves. Her grey sweater hangs off one shoulder, leaving the thin strap of her tank top showing. When she turns, I spot a tiny piece of a tattoo on her pale skin peeking out from under the sweater. She wears her bubble gum pink hair in cute little space buns with some loose strands that I want to tuck behind her ears. I can't see all of her face, but it's enough.

The guy between us steps out of line to take a call, so I hurry to close the distance between myself and the angel in front of me. As I do, the sweet scent of strawberries and cherry blossoms smacks me in the face. It has to be her body spray or her shampoo. Either way, it's making my mouth water.

I'm trying hard not to stare like an absolute creeper, but I want to talk to her. I can say hello and hope that goes somewhere. Maybe I'll ask her out for coffee and to marry me. Except I remember we're already in a coffee shop, and I'd come across as an idiot. I'm not even sure she'd hear me with the air pods in.

She's playing with her phone as she bops to the music in her ears. Fuck, I have to close my eyes to stop staring at her ass as it sways. My brain is in overdrive, trying to figure out what to do. I have to say something. I can't simply let her order her tea and walk out of my life forever. You can't do that when an angel stands so close you can almost feel her. I can picture her with wings.

I glance down at my phone, but I can still see her. She has hips I want to squeeze and thighs that—Shit. I don't even remember when I last noticed a woman with thighs like hers in this town. Not those thin little things that might break if she sneezed, but natural, beautiful, thick thighs that I wanted to sink my fingers into while she…

Jesus, man. What the fuck are you doing? You need to get out of your own head right now before you become the perv your brain is turning you into. Don't be Steve!

My eyes are closed, and I almost don't realize when she steps away from me and approaches the counter. I can't tell what she orders; I only hear the music of her soft, sweet voice. My heart is thumping so loud I'm sure everyone in the shop can hear it. Worse than that, though, is how that thumping pushes all that blood south the longer I stare.

I've turned into one of those guys. Fuck.

Then it happens—my opportunity.

The guy behind the counter hands her a big drink and two small bags, and I can see it coming from a mile away. She's trying to hold too much and is about to drop her drink or phone. My hand shoots out on instinct, giving me only a split second to hope that if it ends up being the drink, she ordered something cold.

I'm a little relieved when I stare at the phone in my hand, black with a hot pink skull and crossbones stickers along the back. She's still cringing. At first, I'm worried she's freaked out about me having her phone, but I realize she's still waiting for the phone to hit the floor and smash to pieces. The scrunch of her face is adorable, and my heart is skipping.

"Excuse me." I didn't even recognize the softness of my voice. "I uhm, you dropped this." Son of a bitch, is that the best you have, Barton? Idiot!

Finally, she opens her eyes and sees me holding out her unharmed phone. She stares at me for a while, like she's trying to figure out why I have her phone and how it's still in one piece. She has the most beautiful deep brown eyes that sparkle in the shop lights, like looking into two pools of Dr. Pepper.Maybe I should cut back on the soda.

"Oh, I, oh my god, how did you catch that?"

"Reflexes are pretty good, I guess." I wasn't about to admit that I had been staring at her since I got in line. I'm not that much of a fucking moron.

"That's amazing! Like Spider-Man or some shit. Thank you so much!"

When she reaches out for the phone, her soft fingers brushing against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. She's captivating, and I'm not sure she even knows it. My father always told me I had the mind of an artist and a dreamer. I've always seen people for their beauty, both inside and out, and used to love showing it through my art. Watching her, I instantly visualize her beauty on canvas; this woman might be my muse. I mean, if I was ever going to get back into art.

Wait, did she call me Spider-Man?

The soft pink on her cheeks is getting darker now, and I watch the embarrassment take over. "I should, uhm, I should probably…"

"No, no, let me. It's the least I could do considering how full your arms are." I don't even remember how little money I have when I tap my phone against the reader. I barely even register the sound of the machine as it pulls the last pennies from my bank, too busy drowning in her eyes again. She can take everything I have—I won't stop her.

Neither of us has looked away yet.

In an unblinking gaze, our eyes linger until I eventually give up and lower my gaze to her full lips and shy smile. In a rom-com, this is where we'd kiss, and a year from now we'd come back and get married right here in this boba shop. I've never wanted someone as badly as I want this woman, and I don't even know her name. This is LA; she could be a tourist, and I may never see her again if I don't do something.

But she doesn't look like a tourist. I wonder if she works nearby.

"Alexis!" The screech from across the cafe pulls us back to the harsh reality of the busy shop around us. It's the blonde, who is still blocking the door and texting. I hate her so much right now. "Are you coming or what?"

The quintessential valley girl has given me something, though. Alexis . I couldn't have picked a more perfect name.

"Hey, uhm, so thanks for the coffee. Oh, and for catching my phone." She walks backward toward the exit, biting her lip nervously and trying to fight the smile. "I really appreciate not having to order a new one. I really need to be more careful."

"No problem. Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."

Her giggle is ethereal, and I feel the pull of my half-smile on my mouth. These are the moments when I wish I had any game at all. I've become entirely dumbfounded and unaware I'm still in line as I watch the sun hit her hair when she opens the door and disappears. She's gone, and my heart sinks as someone clears their throat.

"Uhm, so are you going to order something or what?" The kid behind the counter is glaring at me, bored and unimpressed.I'd forgotten other people existed.

"Shit, yeah, yes. I'll just, uhm, coffee. Do you have just coffee?" He rolls his eyes, judging me. I must be some kind of brand-new alien who'd never been in a boba shop before. This is why I don't leave the house. "Just give me the biggest, cheapest thing you have with caffeine." I glance at his nametag. "Okay, Zack?"

I use my emergency-only credit card to pay because this is essentially an emergency. Then, an idea pops into my head. As he hands me a large coffee, I blurt out, "Hey, does she come in here often?"

"The one whose pants you were trying to get into, Mr. Good Reflexes?"

I close my eyes and force a smile. Smug motherfucker, but I had earned that, hadn't I. "You know what, never mind. Sorry." I pull the wrinkled bills Dani forced me to take from my pocket and stuff them into the tip jar. Broke, enamored, and embarrassed, I leave as quickly as possible.