Rinny reached out to touch his arm. She was a toucher. It was one of the things he loved about her. “Don’t you see? He hides behind the lies because he doesn’t think he has a choice. Deep down, he is this insecure boy who needs the presence of multiple women in his life to make him feel like a man. Virile. Get it?”
All Matthew got was that the guy she had just described sounded like a putz with a small…putz. “So where did he go?”
“He went to the, uh…the gentlemen’s room.”
Poor Rinny, probably not the way she planned it. “Did you even get to do the sultry look back?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, mildly offended.
“Come on, Rinny, it’s me. When you used to visit me in the hospital you always flashed me the sultry look back right before you said good-bye. That look would follow me into my dreams. It’s a classic.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied convincingly.
Matthew just shrugged his shoulders. In an effort to change the topic, he asked, “So, where are you going on your vacation?”
This topic made her slightly more chipper, and she put aside her pique. “Two fabulous weeks on Paradise Island in the Bahamas. Sun. Sand. And single,” she finished on a slightly more depressing note. Visions of honeymoon couples frolicking about on the beach danced in her head. “I’m sure it will be mag.”
“Yeah. Mag,” he repeated. “What exactly does that mean?”
Poor Matthew, Corinne thought. She didn’t know how it was possible, but he was even more lost than she was at this moment. Seeing his tie askew, she absently reached a hand up to the knot to tweak it straight. As she did, she studied the tie and the plain white shirt he wore with it. “It certainly isn’t this tie. Really, Matthew, you’ve got to do something with your wardrobe.”
He looked down at the tie she was arranging. “It’s my favorite.”
That made her snort. “And you need a haircut,” she said, running her hand along his neck to corral the few stray hairs that lingered. His rich brown hair, a color he obviously didn’t enhance, had always made her jealous. When he started to squirm, she pulled her hand away and thought that Brendan’s hair was always perfectly groomed. He had a standing appointment with a stylist once a week.
Her name was Sherry. Sherry, who also happened to dance at a strip club for extra money on the weekends.
Corinne couldn’t prevent the frown that she felt forming on her lips. She hated to frown. It always showed off the faint wrinkles at her mouth.
A tiny knock sounded behind them and they both turned to the open door.
“Is the coast clear?”
Corinne’s assistant and good friend Darla poked her head into the office. The plump woman with the warm smile and bright eyes looked at Corinne expectantly.
“It’s clear,” Corinne told her.
“Well?”
“It didn’t exactly go according to script.”
“She didn’t get to do the sultry look back,” Matthew told Darla.
“Oh no. But that’s, like, your heavy hitter. It’s right up there with the playful pout.”
“I do not have a playful pout. Or a sultry look back. You’re both making this up.”
They exchanged a glance that was all too easy to interpret, but Corinne didn’t have the energy to fight them. “I just don’t understand. Where did I go wrong?”
“Cheer up,” Matthew said, bucking her on the shoulder. “And stop thinking about Brendan. You never know. You might meet some fabulous man and have a wild vacation affair.”
She lifted her left eyebrow into a perfect arc over her eye. “Don’t be ridiculous, Matthew. I am a one-woman man. One-man woman. Oh, you know what I mean.”
Although, the idea did have a little merit. If she could send back pictures of her and some handsome stranger to her buddies in the office to view, and say Darla happened to accidentally drop one or two on Brendan’s desk, well then that might be just the thing to push him over the edge. And if that didn’t work, she could always literally push him over an edge!
“Uh-oh. I know that look,” Darla warned, studying her friend’s suddenly diabolical expression. “And it usually means involving me in one of your plots.”
“Scripts,” Corinne corrected. “And it does. I’m thinking about a whole new approach. What about jealousy?”
“You’re always jealous,” Darla reminded her. “You know, because Brendan’s always messing around with other women behind your back?”
Corinne scowled at her alleged friend. “Not me. Him. What if I set out to make Brendan jealous? Of course, given my deep and abiding love for him, it would be almost impossible for me to flirt with another man…”
“You mean like what he’s doing now with Marjorie from human resources?”
Matthew pointed to the scene just outside the door. Brendan was bending down to pick up a pencil Marjorie had accidentally tossed into the middle of his path, the whole time keeping his eyes pinned to her protruding breasts.
Matthew was amazed. “How does he manage to follow the conversation when he’s got his eyes glued to her…”
Corinne shot him a menacing glare, and he quickly closed his mouth.
The bastard. The poor pathetic lonely…Nope, sometimes Brendan could be just a bastard. Corinne crunched her teeth together and squared her shoulders. She was going to be damned before she was made a fool out of by Marjorie from human resources. Calling upon all of her training, she focused on making herself taller with larger breasts. It was a visualization technique her seventh-grade acting teacher had taught her, and it had stayed with her ever since. Visualize yourself as you want to be seen and people will see it, too.
“Go get ’em, tiger.”
“Give him hell,” Darla added.
This from her cheering section. With the regal air of a queen she stepped out into the hall. Cubicles lined up along the hallway were filled with not-so-busy customer service representatives who had been enjoying the Marjorie and Brendan Show. Now that Corinne had added herself to the mix, the scene took on a whole new tension.
The question was, how did she want to play this particular act? All fifty employees of the small company knew about her on-again, off-again relationship with Brendan. Most thought he was playing her for a fool, but that was because they didn’t understand him. Now here she was with her newest competition, who, if it was at all possible, was wearing an even shorter skirt than hers. The woman must have had her legs genetically engineered. It was the only explanation.
So did she go for catty? Explosive? Sorrowful and betrayed? Better yet, it was time for the old standby. She would play the bigger person. Not an easy task, considering
