M.J. Rodgers - Baby By Chance

“That makes three hundred and seventy-two hugs you owe me.”

She knew Barry wasn’t really keeping score, nor did he expect to collect. They had been promising each other hugs for years.

He was a good-looking guy who wore the “I’m so bored I’m cool” expression that only he and the guys on the cover of GQ seemed able to pull off.

He was also one of her favorite people. Because of his strong urging and recommendation three months before, Greg had promoted Susan to one of the three coveted senior photographer slots. Barry had never said a word about having stood up for her, which was one of the things she liked most about him.

She took a moment to glance at the prints he’d handed to her. “I requested these two days ago. Why is the darkroom always so backed up?”

“Their turnover is worse than a Burger King,” he said. “They got another new trainee today. Can’t wait to see how long before this one disappears. Speaking of disappearing, have you seen Ellie? I stopped by her cubicle to deliver her prints, but she wasn’t there. Matter of fact, I haven’t seen her all day.”

“She’s probably in the coffee room making an espresso.”

“Which can only mean she’s broken up with her latest loser,” Barry said, shaking his head.

Susan concentrated on shifting through the prints, saying nothing.

“Relax, you didn’t give anything away. I know that Ellie always hogs the espresso machine for days after one of her lovers screws her over.”

She should have known Barry would figure that out. He was smart and observant. When she had first seen Barry looking at Ellie, she’d thought he had a thing for her friend. But however attractive Barry thought Ellie, he was always so negative when he spoke about her that Susan had given up hoping for a romance between them.

“Be nice to Ellie,” she told him. “She’s going through a rough time.”

“She’s always going through a rough time,” he said, the disgust thick in his voice, “because she always asks for it.”

“Of course, you’ve never made a mistake in the romance department,” she said with light sarcasm, knowing perfectly well just how bad a mistake he’d made in the selection of his ex-wife, who everyone at the office called “the psycho.”

Not that he wasn’t absolutely right about Ellie, of course. But Susan was loyal to a lovelorn friend.

“Not fair,” Barry protested. “I was barely twenty-five when the psycho did her number on me. Did I tell you she violated the restraining order her third ex-husband got on her?”

“That the one in Texas?”

“No, Florida. Her second husband filed the restraining order on her in Texas. Anyway, she picked the lock on her third husband’s house after he’d gone to work and spray painted everything black. She’s a genius at lock-picking. Her old man is still doing time for a decade of breaking-and-entering raps.”

“Now, remind me again what awful thing her third ex-husband did to deserve this?” Susan asked.

“He married her, against all my warnings, I might add, just like husband number two. Not that I totally blame them. The psycho’s got legs that go on forever and these big blue eyes and full lips—”

“So what you’re telling me,” she interrupted, not caring to hear any more about his ex-wife’s physical attributes, “is that a man doesn’t really care if a woman is psychotic as long as she’s sexy.”

He shrugged. “No one said we were the smarter sex. But I have learned from my mistake, unlike Ellie.”

Barry quickly looked around, then leaned closer. “You’re her best friend, Susan,” he whispered. “I know you can spot these losers she keeps getting involved with. Why aren’t you setting her straight?”

“Only time I ever tried to set Ellie straight, as you call it,” she whispered back, “I ended up hurting her feelings, and she didn’t talk to me for two months.”

“You tried to warn her about that married guy she was mixed up with a few years back, didn’t you?” he asked, his face alight with the revelation.

Susan didn’t answer. She’d already said more than she should have.

He straightened and resumed his normal tone. “So that’s why things were so strained between you two then. And all the time I thought you were fighting over me.”

“Don’t you wish,” she said, smiling. “I’m glad you’re concerned about Ellie. Why don’t you ask her out?”

“Hell, no,” he said with feeling. “I told you. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Ellie’s no psycho.”

“Yeah, but she’s got another serious problem. Incredibly bad taste in men.” With that Barry waved and left.

She knew he was right. Put Ellie in a pitching boat in heavy seas and she could not only instantly determine the precise knots that two dolphins were swimming and how many feet away they were, but also the exact F-stop, shutter speed and fill-in flash required to perfectly capture them on film.

But put Ellie in a room full of eligible men, and her brain would inevitably malfunction and she’d pair up with the worst possible choice.

Susan’s thoughts were interrupted when her telephone rang. She picked it up and answered distractedly. “Susan Carter.”

“David Knight.”

She sat straight up in her chair, every cell in her body vibrating to attention.

“I…uh…” Oh, that was erudite, Susan. Could you sound any more brain dead?

“Can you talk?” David asked.

“Apparently not,” she said with a small chuckle.

“That wasn’t a jab at your verbal skills, Ms. Carter. I was attempting to ascertain if you were in a private place that would enable you to discuss personal matters freely.”

He was cordial, but clearly all business. The gentle warmth that had imbued his voice the night before was nowhere in evidence.

She had thought a lot about David after he left her home, and those thoughts had been disturbing. Her preoccupation with them seemed kind of foolish now, in light of his formal manner. Maybe she’d been so tired after her long day that she’d imagined what she’d seen in his eyes. Maybe she had imagined her response, as well.

“Ms. Carter, did you hear my question?”

“Sorry. My mind was on something else. Just a minute.”

The four-foot partitions around her cubicle did nothing to mask conversations. She rose from her chair and stretched so as to camouflage her real reason for getting up, which was to see who was sitting on the other sides. As she had suspected, all around her cubicle were fellow employees frantically clicking their computer keys, getting articles and captions ready for the next issue.

“The answer to your question is, not really,” she said into the phone as she sat back down and scooted her chair closer to her desk.

“Probably just as well we meet. I’d like to show you something. Can you be outside the front of your building in five minutes?”

She checked her watch. Four-thirty already? She needed the rest of her contact sheets from the guys in the darkroom. She also needed to select and crop the photos that would have to be printed. “Will this be a quick meeting?”

“Should be. I’ll drive by and pick you up. Bring your coat and umbrella. The rain is coming down cold and hard.”

Before she could respond, the dial tone blared in her ear. She shook her head as she hung up the phone. David was back to his all-business self, all right.

She was relieved. This was not the time to be getting sidetracked by a man.

Grabbing her shoulder bag, coat and umbrella, she made a dash for the rest room before heading down to the lobby. Exactly five minutes later, his silver truck slid alongside the curb in the front of the building. She used her umbrella as a shield as she dashed for the truck.