Living the Fantasy. Kathy Lyons

people would flock to see her. But as a child she’d been much too shy and awkward to want anyone looking at her. There wasn’t any big trauma in her background. She was just more comfortable watching the action than being part of it. She was the girl who made sure things ran smoothly, whether that meant making sure her brothers had their uniforms for the big soccer game or watching the UPS website to be sure the hospital booth arrived at the event stadium. It had taken her a year to be able to function smoothly in a booth, speaking clearly in a crowd without stammering or blushing.

      “I can’t lose my job,” she said. “What happens when the promo sweep is over?”

      Elisa leaned back. “What about a leave of absence? I saw the events he has planned. It’s three months, tops. Good work for a model.”

      “I’m not a model.” She said the words out of habit, but she was already softening.

      “Don’t think of it as being a model. Think of it as an acting job.”

      “Not helping.”

      “People won’t be looking at you, Ali. They’ll be looking at Mr. Johnson’s queen.”

      Ali didn’t even know how Elisa could say those words with a straight face. “How does a queen act? What if I do it wrong? It’ll reflect badly on his game and this agency.”

      Elisa snorted. “You think too much about other people. Let Marilyn worry about the agency. Let Mr. Johnson worry about his product. You’re just being hired to stand around looking pretty. You can do that! Especially if you get paid really well for it.”

      Ali squirmed. She could tell that Elisa wanted her to say yes. But the idea was so ludicrous. And yet even as she said those words to herself, she wondered if she were lying. Obviously, it wasn’t ludicrous. Not if Marilyn could really get her good pay. And yes, Elisa was right. Blind Ken seemed to think she’d be perfect for the job. He was delusional, but that wouldn’t stop him from paying her.

      “What if I get fired without pay?”

      “You won’t screw up, and Marilyn’s big on up-front pay.”

      Ali gaped. “Can she do that?”

      Elisa shrugged. “Not usually, but like I said: he wants you.”

      Elisa stopped speaking, waiting while a zillion thoughts spun around in Ali’s brain. Elisa knew her well. She knew that she had to think things through. That she hated being bullied. And that…

      “One last thing,” Elisa said. “Today’s text wasn’t just out of the blue. You’ve been ready for a change for a while now. Just last week you said you were getting frustrated. That you felt you were in a rut. You weren’t going to get promoted, you’d topped out your pay at the peon level—” Ali opened her mouth, but Elisa stopped her with a pointed finger. A gesture she’d obviously learned from Marilyn. “Those are your words, Ali! ‘The peon level.’”

      Oh, right. She had said that.

      “So maybe this is the shake-up you need, a summer of opportunity. If nothing else, think of it as a paid vacation. You’ll only be on a stage a few hours a day. After that, you can sit around in your hotel room and read. Or maybe you’ll go to the bar and get a drink. Hang out with your fellow actors. Come on, Ali, are you sure you don’t want to try it? Just for a few months?”

      Ali shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her mind continuing to race. Everything Elisa said was right. Absolutely everything. But could she do it? There were so many things that would have to work out right. The pay, for one. The leave of absence from her current job, for another.

      “Tell you what,” Elisa said, proving that she knew Ali was weakening. “Why don’t you go out and chat with Mr. Johnson? Find out exactly what he wants. You’ll see how easy it will be.”

      At the mention of Mr. Johnson, Ali felt her face heat. He was cute. She’d enjoyed the short exchange that they’d had in the hallway. He’d seemed real and, well, just her speed. That meant funny and dorky in a nice way. Not the silk-shirt-and-thousand-dollar-suit guys that Elisa usually dated.

      She thought about working with him day after day. He wasn’t tall, which was great. At five foot six, she hated feeling like a shrimp next to big guys. He had dark curly hair and nice brown eyes, though she’d noticed they were a bit red. As if he was already hours into a too-long day and it was barely one o’clock. But mostly she remembered how he’d made her feel: relaxed. As if he was just as nervous as she was, and so together they’d muddle along fine.

      It was an odd thought to have after just a few minutes’ conversation, but the feeling persisted. Maybe it was his smile—warm and genuine, but still holding a hint of anxiety. As though he really wanted to make a good impression. Which made her smile because, honestly, what über-rich guy wanted to please her?

      In short, the answer was yes. She could imagine working every day with him. In truth, she thought it could be really awesome. She’d just have to stop thinking of him as Blind Ken. He was Mr. Johnson from now on. Her boss…maybe.

      “Okay,” she finally said.

      “Okay, you’ll do it?”

      “Okay, I’ll go talk a little more with Blind Ken.”

      Elisa snorted. “You cannot call him that. And he’s not blind! How many times have I told you that you’re way more beautiful than you think?”

      Ali shrugged as she straightened up from her chair. Then she rubbed her hands nervously along her skirt and wished she’d refreshed her makeup. “Do I have time—”

      The door burst open and Marilyn stomped in looking for all the world as if she was ready to wrestle a bear. “Are you done? Did you sign? Can we go meet the client now?”

      Guess there was no time for a makeup refresh. “Yes, I’ll meet Mr. Johnson now.”

      Marilyn froze, her gaze darting to the unsigned contract.

      “And then,” pressed Ali, “we can decide about an agency agreement.”

      But first, she had to impress the hell out of Blind—er, Notblind Ken. The CEO of some quirky company. And when exactly had she stepped from normal world into wonderland?

       3

      KEN DIDN’T KNOW WHETHER to be depressed or dive headlong into a Desperate Act. It was obvious that he had erred badly. Having finally found his queen, he’d assumed she was a model (Mistake number one), stalked her like a psycho creep (Mistake number two), declared he “wanted her” and tried to buy her for a weekend or more (Mistake number three), and then when he’d finally realized his error, he lost the opportunity to explain himself (Mistake number four). Marilyn had whisked the woman away only to return fifteen minutes later to negotiate the woman’s fee as if she were bartering the crown jewels.

      And in all of that, he got the distinct feeling that his Guinevere—a Ms. Ali Flowers—had no interest in being a model. So now he was faced with two choices. He could either give up entirely—not really an option. Or he could try again with Ali. But how? What to say to explain that he wasn’t creepy or insane? And how to convince a hospital PR rep to quit her job to come work for him for a summer? Because he could pay her well, but probably not that well.

      He was still chewing on that thought when Marilyn finally realized he wasn’t going to negotiate any fee until he talked to Ali again. She clicked her teeth shut and pushed up from the table. “I’ll be right back,” she snapped, then tugged on her short jacket and stomped out.

      Which left him sitting in the conference room with Paul, his vice president of marketing, while staring morosely at the table. Fortunately, Paul knew just how to talk to him.

      “So, you’re sure this is the woman?”

      Ken nodded without even taking his chin out of his hand.

      “No one else will do?”

      Ken