Tara Sivec: Shame on Me

Backing out of Facebook, I click on the next site that Google found on him: LinkedIn.

Let’s see here. Matt Russo is a graphic designer currently employed by Bolder Design Studio. I already knew this information, so this isn’t helping me at all. He’s an art nerd just like my ex is a computer nerd. No matter how cute he was last night, he’s probably just as much of a tool as Andy. I don’t know why that thought makes me sad. I don’t even know the guy. Just because he didn’t recognize me in the bar last night doesn’t mean he’s a stand-up person without a secret girlfriend.

But man alive, those blue eyes . . . I wonder what they would look like without the glasses. I wonder if they would darken if he was in my bed and I was taking his pants off.

Shit! What the hell is wrong with me? Matt Russo will not be in my bed, ever.

There’s a reason why I’m always attracted to nerdy assholes. I don’t know what that reason is right now, but I’m sure there is one. I am going to focus on finding out if Matt Russo is really a cheater and that’s it. I am not going to think about whether or not he’s got a six-pack hiding under that sweater vest.

Deciding to nip this thing in the bud, I pick up my phone and dial the receptionist at Bolder Design Studio. The sooner I can end this case, the sooner I can find a hot guy who looks and acts nothing like my ex and bang the memory of glasses-wearing, sweater-vest-donning, computer geeks out of my system.

While the phone rings, I clear my throat and put on my best dumb-blonde act.

“Bolder Design, how can I help you?” the receptionist answers.

“Hi, this is Chloe-with-an-e Marin,” I respond with a giggle, using the name of the woman Kennedy found her husband boning when she came home from a tour in Afghanistan. “You’re going to think I am such an idiot, but I was supposed to have a meeting with Mr. Russo this evening so he could help me design my new adult video website and I TOTALLY forgot the time and where we’re supposed to meet.”

I know I’m laying it on thick. Whatever. I hate that Chloe bitch and I firmly believe she does porn on the side.

“Hold on just one second. Let me pull up Mr. Russo’s calendar.”

I giggle again for added effect while I hear her clicking away at her computer through the line.

“Here we go. Hmmm, I don’t see anything on his calendar with you tonight, Miss Marin. He does have a dinner scheduled at Blake’s Seafood at five, but he must have forgotten to add your name.”

I’d like to thank the Academy . . .

“That’s it! Blake’s at five. You are such a doll!”

I quickly thank the clueless woman and disconnect the call. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I see that I have an hour and a half before I need to get to Blake’s. Just enough time to run home and freshen up. I’m assuming that Matt is smart enough not to put the name of his rendezvous location with his suspected mistress on his work calendar, but you never know. Running over to Lorelei’s desk, I grab the Nikon out of the top drawer and shove it into my purse. Maybe I’ll get lucky and catch him canoodling with a waitress in a dark corner. I can snap a picture and be gone, never to think of naked Matt Russo again.

Walking through the door of Blake’s Seafood Restaurant, I scan my reflection in the mirror next to the hostess station. I know it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing since I plan on hiding in a corner and spying on Matt, but it’s impossible for me to go out in public without looking good. Every once in a while I’m recognized by a fan, which is actually a plus in this line of work, because the guy I’m trying to catch cheating would never suspect that I’m an investigator.

I kept it casual tonight with a royal blue cotton strapless dress that falls right above my knees with a matching pair of blue open-toed Gucci heels. Signaling to the hostess on the phone that I was just going to head to the bar, I make my way into the main part of the restaurant and to the corner of the bar closest to me. With my back to the wall and a drink menu up in front of my face, I peer over the top, scoping out the restaurant. I immediately spy Matt on the other side of the room in his own dark corner.

Mmm-hmmm, just what I thought. Hiding in a corner—all the better to make out with your mistress. Ordering a glass of white wine, I crouch low on my stool and keep an eye on Mr. Cheater McCheatpants.

After an hour, two more glasses of wine, and seven shredded cocktail napkins, my ass is starting to fall asleep on the bar stool and I actually catch myself yawning. This is pathetic. What kind of a cheater is this guy? All he’s done in the last sixty minutes is look at the screen on his cell phone and glance toward the door over and over again. Maybe his home-wrecker girlfriend stood him up. Serves the guy right.

Sliding off of the bar stool, I work out the kinks in my legs from sitting so long, staying close to the shadows in the corner. Turning back around quickly to make sure I don’t miss anything from Matt’s table, I slam right into a solid chest and my hands immediately press against it to steady myself. The smell of Burberry Touch cologne tingles my nose and butterflies flap rapidly in my stomach as I lift my head.

“Hey, you’re the woman from last night. Paige, right?”

Oh, shit. I’ve been made. Kennedy is going to kill me.

I stare into Matt’s eyes as he smiles down at me, his hands still holding tightly to my arms. It could be the wine talking right now, but Jesus, he’s really good-looking up close. He’s removed his glasses and his sparkling blue eyes are staring right down at my face, taking in everything he sees.

“What are the odds that we’d run into each other again?” Matt asks, the dimple in his left cheek forming when he cocks one side of his mouth up in a grin.

Oh, pretty good, considering I’m following you.

“It’s definitely a nice coincidence,” I tell him with a sultry smile. I don’t care if he smells like heaven and I have a weakness for dimples, I’m still here to do a job. Since I can no longer lurk in a dark corner and spy on him, maybe I can ply him with alcohol and get him to talk. It didn’t work last night, but he doesn’t seem as preoccupied as he did then. “Are you here alone?”

Matt nods his head and lets out a sigh. “I am. Is it pathetic that I’m sitting in the corner of a bar by myself on a Friday night?”

He laughs easily at himself and runs a hand through his hair, making the spikes messy, and for some reason I want to reach up and smooth them back down.

“Well, it looks like we’re both pretty pathetic tonight, since I was doing the same thing,” I tell him as I gesture over to my pile of shredded napkins on the bar next to my empty wineglasses.

“Several glasses of wine AND mutilated napkins. You must be having a bad week,” he laughs.

“One of my best friends fell madly in love and I have to go to a party later on tonight to toast to their happiness. Let’s just say it’s a good thing the bartender didn’t put any knives in front of me tonight.”

Matt chuckles and shakes his head. “Those napkins never stood a chance. At least now I know to keep sharp objects far out of your reach.”

A laugh bubbles up out of me before I can catch it. “I’m happy for them. Really, I am. I only think about stabbing my ex in the heart four times a day now instead of seven.”

“See? That’s progress right there. Pretty soon you’ll only be thinking about lighting all of his things on fire,” Matt replies with a chuckle.

“Oh, that ship has already sailed. You always burn their shit first, then you daydream about chopping off body parts.”