Are You There, Karma? It’s Me, Jane.: A laugh out loud romantic comedy Read online

  “He’s not my boyfriend. Yet. We’ve just gone out a few times.” Her face takes on a dreamy quality. “But I really, really like him.” The very first day he came to work here, she pinned him against the wall of his workstation and kissed him, tongue and all. He didn’t have a chance. And really, who would say no to Julia.

  I wish I were more like her. I had the spontaneous kiss but then, when I couldn’t find him, I was too embarrassed, and I just left. Julia would have taken over the commentator’s booth in the press box and paged the Kiss Thief to meet her at the front gate for a slow-motion replay of said kissing crime.

  The intern finally makes it to our cubicles. I sip at my late afternoon energy-boosting coffee as he says hello to Julia and ignores me. He doesn’t mean to, though. Julia just has a way of vacuuming all the attention out of a person. It’s not a bad thing, don’t get the wrong impression, Julia has a tendency to charm people stupid. She’s just one of those girls that make other people feel drawn to them. Besides being stunningly beautiful, she holds this sort of effortless social grace not many people have. She knows what to say and do in every social situation, no matter how awkward. She can start up a conversation with anyone, she’s always full of energy and exuberance and it’s all about the person she’s standing with.

  Like right now, instead of just asking, “How are you?” to the intern, she asks specifically about an operation his grandmother had last week. “I was thinking about her this morning when I saw your post about flowers.” Her words are sincere.

  She’s a Facebook friend with the intern and I don’t even know his first name. I want to say it’s Marlin or Milo, but I have no clue so I dart my eyes between the two of them talking and wonder if I have any wine left in my apartment for later.

  I’ll stop on the way home just in case. Oh, wait. We’re all supposed to be going out after work; maybe I won’t have to stop after all.

  Julia grabs onto the blond-haired intern’s arm, laughing about something. Mid-chuckle, Intern guy’s elbow collides with my coffee drinking arm, splattering all that remains in my cup across my white blouse and lap.

  I immediately look like I was hit by a brown tsunami.

  “Oh no, Richie, go get napkins,” Julia says hastily, prying the crunched-up disposable coffee cup from my fingers.

  That’s the intern’s name. Richie. I got it now. Richie, the elbowing coffee klutz. I’ll be sure to remember.

  “Oh, shit. I’m really sorry,” Richie says, jumping into action. I watch him bolt for the kitchen area and I try not to laugh. This happens to me at least once a week. But this time, when I stand, the warm liquid that has pooled in my crotch has reached the cotton of my panties and is now my latest sexual partner.

  Richie rushes back to me with an entire roll of paper towels that unbeknownst to him has unraveled and trails out in a mess behind him.

  The entire office stops and laughs. The furor is such that you would think me naked streaking through the workstations. Dex sits across from us with his feet up on his desk, legs crossed at the ankles, laughing the loudest. I curl my lip at him. He rolls his eyes in response. I flip him the finger.

  “God, you’re soaked. How much coffee was in that thing?” Julia’s smile fades as she dabs a handful of paper towels over my soaked clothes. “You’re not going to make happy hour tonight because of this, are you?” She sighs low, “You would have probably hated me for this but I asked Nate to make sure he brings one of his friends tonight. Someone good-looking for you to maybe get to know.”

  Richie the intern slithers out of the cubicle coffee accident and disappears down the hallway, like a hit-and-run.

  “Well,” I say, slowly spinning around. “Look at me, do I look nice enough to be set up on a date?” I laugh, but it’s fake because her setting me up with someone means she doesn’t actually believe I’ll ever find Mr. Perfect again.

  “Stop. You would look cute with shit slathered all over you.”

  “That’s a weird thing to say, but intriguing. How would I have gotten slathered in shit, I wonder?”

  Julia pouts. And dabs. Pouts and dabs.

  “This is pretty uncomfortable, though. It was a caramel latte. Extra caramel. My pants are sticking to my thighs right now.” I slide my bag off the floor and waddle to the elevators like a wet duck. “Why don’t you tell Nate and his friend I say, maybe next time? I’m not even going to attempt the train like this. I’m taking a cab home. Text me when you get in later, okay?”

  She nods as I step onto the elevator. I wave back as the door slides closed.

  It’s six o’clock when I get home. I head straight for the shower and step under the warm spray with my sticky clothes still on.

  When I’m done, I walk around the apartment in my pajamas thumbing through my bookshelf. Thank God there’s still a half bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in the fridge from the night before. After I pour myself a glass, I pick a romance from off the shelf and start a relationship with a new fictional character.

  Before I start, I post an artsy photo of the book in my hands on Instagram and tag the author.

  By the fourth chapter, I’m fast asleep dreaming that Mr. Perfect has taken out a billboard in Times Square searching for his Kiss Cam girl.

  Julia never texts me.

  Chapter 3

  I’ve been at work since six this morning and had two cups of coffee without incident. Today is shaping up to look pretty awesome. I even spent an hour in the break room reading the rest of the novel I fell asleep to last night. It’s steamy and full of angst and I don’t want to put it down.

  At precisely five minutes to nine, Julia hurries in, looking sexy and disheveled. I’m not certain how she always pulls it off, but she should share her secret with us regular women, or at least bottle it for us. She’d make millions.

  “Okay, number one. Why did you come in so early? Mornings are whores.” I almost lose my coffee through my nose. “And two, Nate was called to the meeting this morning so you’ll finally get to meet him. He came by last night after happy hour and my God the sex was incredible. I don’t think I slept a wink. Do I look fully fucked?” She does a little princess twirl. And a weird stripper move.

  “You are kind of glowing,” I admit, happy for her.

  “Five orgasms. I had five in one night. I think I want to marry this one!”

  Five in one night? I don’t think I’ve had five in the same year. Strike that, I KNOW I’ve never had anything close to that. And marriage? I have only ever heard her speak of the scandalous M word once before, with her ex, Pierre Auden Luc who is some crazy rich prince from some far-off country. They were supposed to have gotten married, but somehow it didn’t work out. She never did tell me the story, but I do know every so often she goes away for the weekend and comes back with an expensive piece of jewelry and a sparkle in her eye.

  What a charmed life.

  “Shit, come on. We’re going to be late,” Julia says, yanking me down the hallway by the elbow toward the conference room. Thank God I already put my coffee down.

  I stumble on my heels and laugh. “We have five minutes. It’s not going to take five minutes to get down to the end of the hallway,” I say, thumbing a social media post about the dangers of stilettos and being late. The hallway smells strangely like a tuna sandwich—one that had been left out overnight—in the heat. It wasn’t like that when I came in this morning. I narrow my eyes at Julia, “Did you bring tuna for lunch?”

  “Ew. No. Just hurry up. Gail is going through pitches and I need to get the interview with that hockey player and his sex tape.”

  I stagger by the conference room door and dig my heels in to the rug, “What?” I ask under my breath, watching everyone’s eyes lift in our direction. “You don’t even like hockey.”

  “I like him and I know all about sex and tape,” she whispers, giving me a wink and pushing me through the doorway. “And I’m dying to talk to him about how he pucks.”

  I can’t help but laugh. That’s so Julia. I’
d bet she’ll be pucking him twenty minutes after the interview ends. There would definitely be a video and plenty use of tape or rope or whatever crazy, kinky thing she could come up with. The poor guy won’t be able to sit for days after. But she seems to be totally into this five-in-one-night Nate guy. So many men to choose from, and plenty of time.

  If only I had those kinds of problems.

  I laugh under my breath as we linger just inside the conference room. She changes the conversation back to her five orgasms and how to get a guy to marry you. She can’t stop talking about it, him, the five orgasms and wanting to get married. I’ve never heard her say she wanted a serious relationship before. She sounds hooked. “Please don’t tell him everything I’m saying, though, okay? I know how nuts I sound. But honestly? I came five times in one night.”

  “I won’t say a word about your craziness, I swear.” I pretend to zip my lips to prove my seriousness of this conversation. “He’ll find that out all on his own.”

  She laughs and pushes on my arm. “And tonight, I’m totally going to let him have my ass.”

  Jesus, she really does like him. I’ve known Julia for about five years now, since the first day we met at work, and backdoor parties were always something she used as leverage in relationships. You know, when she wanted something, or for birthdays. She didn’t just give her ass up for nothing. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “Oh holy orgasms of Heaven, he’s walking down the hallway now,” she whispers, squeezing my hand like a vice grip then spins me around and shoves me back out of the conference room.

  “Jane.” Julia says my name with a half a nervous giggle. “This is Nathanial, but everyone calls him Nate. Nate this is one of my closest work friends, Jane.”

  Oh God. No freaking way.

  I want the floor to open up and swallow me.

  I open my mouth to say hello, but nothing but a tiny “Eh, uh-oh-ugh,” comes tumbling out. My heart beats out of my chest and heat spreads across my cheeks and Oh My God, I can’t even swallow. I think I’m dying.

  I’m dead.

  It’s Kiss Cam guy.

  It’s Mr. FREAKING PERFECT.

  I mean, of course it is. The one guy I shared the best, most romantic, panty-melting kiss with, gave my best friend five orgasms last night.

  Nate clears his throat, “Uh…Hey, Jane. It’s uh, nice to meet you.” His eyes are a brilliant mix of blues and greens that match his shirt, and the way they look at me in that moment makes me a bit dizzy and a lot heart attacky. Fuck my life.

  Our hands entwine in a weird shake and electric sparks dance up my arms from touching him. “Nate,” I choke out. “It’s a great thing to see—me you, and well, hi—uh,” I look spastically between Julia and Mr. Perfect Nathaniel Kiss Cam Five Ohs In One Freaking Night and nod stupidly. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s not be late for the uh, meeting.”

  I might have stumbled into the wall while trying to go through the open door of the conference room, and cried out a curse, but let’s not dwell on the details of meeting the one guy I’d been dreaming about for the last month. I desperately want to turn around and run out of the conference room. I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and scream and yell and cry out, “Why did you have to kiss me like that? When you were supposed to be dating Julia?”

  Why did he have to be at that game? Did he go to the game then straight out to dinner with her that night, right after kissing me? Did it feel like nothing to him? Did it feel like nothing to him when it felt like the world lined up a little closer to perfection for me that night?

  What am I supposed to say to Julia? Do I tell her? What the freaking hell would I say, “Hey, when you just started dating your new guy, he stuck his tongue in my mouth? Oh, and he’s the guy I want to marry.”

  And I’ve been dreaming about having his babies.

  A boy and a girl, Noah and Olivia. That stupid kiss started some sort of biological countdown inside me and my ovaries have been planning some sort of wild celebration.

  What kind of hellish karma is this? I finish my stumble through the conference room, with the burn of vomit teasing the back of my throat, and my heart dragging lifelessly on the floor behind me.

  “So nice of you to join us,” Gail chirps from her seat at the head of the conference table. I give her a curt nod and take my regular seat. There’s no need to rush. We’re not late, and seriously, I know exactly the article I’m getting stuck with. Either the one about the sexiest eye shadow trends this month or the hottest novels to jill off too. Maybe I should ask to do an article about secretly kissing your best friend’s boyfriend—wait, this isn’t all bad. Well, it’s shitty for me, but she said they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend yet, they were just dating. Technically, he didn’t cheat on her. God, I feel sick.

  I’m barely focusing on the meeting, tapping out another quick tweet about people in the workplace who bring tuna for lunch and how they should be fired on the spot, and what a great devilish bitch Karma is, when Gail’s bird-like nose whistles in a deep inhale. She also claps wildly to get my attention.

  I toss my phone down and bite the inside of my cheek, flustered.

  “How to not get caught cheating. Gavin you take this. You seem a champ at it. Great ways to enhance blowjobs. Nice pitch, but let’s take it from a guy’s point of view. Dex, you write it,” Gail says.

  I slowly shift my eyes across the room to Mr. Perfect Nate. He’s staring straight at Gail, listening intently. He obviously isn’t my Mr. Perfect any longer; I need to step over the shit that’s landed in my life, not in it.

  Okay, just breathe and focus on the meeting. Dex is going to write an article about ways to enhance blowjobs. That’s perfect for him since he’s such a dick.

  Dex’s face reddens as he tries to persuade her to give him another story. She holds up her hand to stop him from talking. I muffle a laugh. Of course, Gail catches it and hits me with a sinister smirk, “Jane, darling, I want you doing the front piece on one-night stands.”

  Wait, what?

  “That was my pitch,” Dex cuts in, leaning forward. “I’m a much better—”

  “And you’re a man,” Gail snaps, standing up and slapping her palms down on the table. “The opposite view from a lonely, shy, frumpy girl in her late thirties would be a fuck of a lot funnier. And really, Dex, we’ve all heard of your exploits, and they aren’t as newsworthy. It’s the same old story, the player and the one-night stand. That’s boring and has been done thousands of times. I want a fresh eye on this story. A new point of view.”

  Late thirties? Did she say late fucking thirties? I’m only thirty-two.

  Dex growls. “But if she writes the article then it will be full of her ideas.”

  “Precisely my point.” Gail isn’t kidding.

  “Okay, hold on a second. Everyone?” Dex says as he stands. “Let’s take a vote. Should it be me or Jane? Raise your hand if you think Jane could write the piece better.”

  The majority of people raise their hands. Jerks. Why couldn’t they keep their hands to themselves? I don’t want to write the stupid article!

  “Fine. We all have a difference of opinion on this, but that doesn’t mean you’re right. It just means you want a mediocre account of—”

  “Sit back down and stop before someone calls HR,” Gail snaps.

  Damn it. Dex is an arrogant ass, but I was rooting for him. I know zilch about one-night-stands. I swallow the knot in my throat and speak up, “How am I supposed to get research?”

  Gail blinks rapidly in my direction. “You want to continue to write articles for this magazine, right?” I didn’t think it was possible, but her eyes blink faster. “You want to be part of this team, right?”

  I numbly nod my head and try not to vomit. Not only is Gail giving me the most humiliating article to write, I just remembered Nate is here witnessing it.

  “Good girl. Oh, and how many followers do you have on all your social media right this moment?” she asks, smirking.

&n
bsp; “A little over half a million on each,” I whisper.

  “Good. The one-night stand…I want parts of it live,” she says, smiling wide. “Stay after and I’ll give you all the details I want in the story. Ooooh, we could even use Tinder.”

  Holy shit.

  Karma, you crazy bitch.

  Chapter 4

  The conference is over and I’m hiding in the bathroom, crying.

  Let’s see how’s my Wednesday is going so far.

  It’s Horrible Hump Day, hosted by Karma the Bitch.

  1) I met the man of my dreams, Kiss Cam man aka Mr. Perfect.

  2) He’s sleeping with my best friend.

  3) I am being forced to Tinder date a loser for an article and post all about it. Live!

  Oh God, what the hell am I supposed to do? I feel like I should tell Julia. But what in the world would that accomplish? She’s talking about him being more than just a fling. I don’t want to hurt her or him.

  I wonder if Nate will say anything. He just went about his business when she introduced us, like kissing me in front of a stadium full of people and pulling my heart right out of my mouth was nothing.

  Oh God. Maybe he doesn’t even remember it. Maybe he doesn’t even have a clue it was me.

  There’s no point in saying anything about the kiss, is there? Me saying something isn’t going to change the train of events. Julia and Nate would still be together and I would just be more embarrassed. If I say nothing, maybe, this way at least, Nate wouldn’t think it meant that much to me, like it was a tiny blip of a kiss in so many other kisses in the history of the world—like it measured up to kissing your brother or your pet.

  Shit.

  There’s a knock at the bathroom door.

  “Um, yes. Someone’s in here,” I clear my throat, trying to hide my alarm that someone is coming in and about to see what a blubbering hot mess I am.

  Nate slips through the door. His gives me a sad smile and locks the door behind him.