The next morning, I tried to make as much noise as possible while getting ready. None of it seemed to have any effect on Eddie, who continued to sleep like some kind of inanimate object. I wasn’t sure what to do. I had to go to work, and wanted Eddie to leave. It didn’t seem a good idea to leave him alone all day in my house. But I also didn’t want to turn into some kind of paranoid, screaming freak who’d kick a sleeping guy out into the street. We’d had a good time, and he seemed a nice enough guy. I was probably just being paranoid.
I shook Eddie awake. “I have to go to work now. Can you lock the door on your way out?” He didn’t answer, so I prodded him again. “Okay?”
He mumbled something, turned over and went back to sleep.
Walking out of my house, I noticed how differently I felt from the first time I was with Eddie. Sure, I’d saved a hundred and sixty bucks, actually way more than that if I considered what Eddie might have charged me for staying over night, but still I’d been happier when I’d paid.
This was not no-strings-attached sex. There were likely to be strings. And I had no idea what those strings might be.
Chapter Four
Of course, leaving Eddie in my house was a terrible mistake. I knew it on my drive to work, I knew it during a staff meeting, and I knew it while eating a chocolate muffin at my desk around ten-thirty. Which was about the time I called and told Eddie I’d had a great time the night before, which was true, and asked, “Did you remember to lock the door on your way out?”
“Oh, I’m still here,” he said brightly. “We should order in and watch TV tonight.”
I thought it a disturbingly domestic thing to say after just two dates. Well, one professional massage and one date, to be more accurate.
“I probably need to work late,” I lied. “I don’t think I’ll be much fun tonight.”
“That’s all right. I will give you a back rub.” He giggled, meaning much more.
“No, really. I’m going to be a real grouch.”
“You don’t like me anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Good, because I like you.”
Even though it was only the word “like”, it roughly followed the same rules as the other L word. Eddie had said he liked me, and I was supposed to tell Eddie I liked him, too. Instead, I said, “Thank you.” He didn’t reply, so I told him I was about to go into a meeting and I’d call him in a couple days.
“Call me this afternoon,” he said, and hung up before I could object. I realized I had no idea whether he’d be leaving my house or not.
The rumor about re-engineering was confirmed at the morning staff meeting. Afterward, Tiffany looked pale and frightened. Every time I walked by her cubicle, I wondered if she was about to run to the ladies room and puke. She sent me an email, which said, “I didn’t want to say anything, but my ex-husband has had his hours cut back by half. He’s two months late with his child support.”
I sifted through my Rolodex and made a couple of phone calls for her. Well, I tried to. I imagined people all over town were being inundated by calls generated from this studio looking for work. The minute they saw our exchange, they probably decided not to answer. I gave up, promising myself I’d make some calls when things calmed down. I dialed Peter. He’d at least answer my call.
“You left a hooker in your house,” Peter said, after quizzing me about my date. “And you think that was a good idea?”
“I wasn’t sure how to get rid of him,” I said honestly.
“’Get the fuck out’ always works for me.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“He understands English, doesn’t he?”
“He speaks English very well.”
“You’re too nice, Matt. No wonder Jeremy took advantage of you for so long.” Ouch. That was the problem with good friends. Eventually they knew enough about you to say terrible things for your own good.
“Meet me at the gym after work,” I suggested.
“I’ve already been this week.” Peter’s approach to health was the bare minimum. He was blessed with good genes.
“Please,” I begged, while trying not to sound like I was begging.
“Is that your solution to the Eddie problem? You’re just not going home?”
It seemed like a good idea to me. “He’ll get bored and leave.”
“That’s not going to work,” Peter predicted. Then he gasped dramatically. “You want him to be there.”
“I don’t, believe me.”
“Yes, you do. You just can’t admit it.”
“Are you going to meet me at the gym or not?”
“Fine, I’ll meet you at the gym. Whatever.” He was about to hang up when I caught him and asked if there might be anything for Tiffany at Momentous Studios. “Well, no,” he said, “But I did hear of something that might suit you. A VP position.”
“Really?”
“Fax your resume over to Bobby Sharpe.” He gave me the number. “He’s family, and you’re just his type.”
“Oh. Is that a good idea?”
“Darling, what’s a little sexual harassment if you get to be a Vice President? The worst thing that will happen to you is that you’ll sue for oodles of money.” Obviously, Bobby Sharpe was not attractive. If he were, Peter would have suggested I sleep with him to get the job.
I had a lunch meeting with a hideous woman from the Home Entertainment division who spent the entire meal trying to get me to feel sorry for her and then seemed to resent it when I did. I got back to the office a little after two. I’d just sat down at my desk when my
