The Invitation
: Chapter 12

“What the fuck!” My hands flew up to my nose.

“Oh my God! Hudson! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

My eyes had started to water, so I assumed that was the wetness I felt. Until I took my hands away and realized they were covered in blood.

“Holy shit! You’re bleeding!” Stella grabbed a roll of paper towels off the counter. Ripping off a bunch, she wadded them into a ball and attempted to shove it in my face.

I swiped it from her hands.

“I’m so sorry. I—You…you scared me!”

I pressed the paper towels to my gushing nose. “I said your name twice, but you didn’t answer.”

She plucked a wireless earbud from her ear. “I have these in, and the music was loud.”

I shook my head. “You were flailing your arms around—I thought you were choking.”

Stella frowned. “I was conducting.”

“Conducting?”

“Yeah, you know, pretending to be the conductor in a symphony.”

I stared at her like she had two heads. “No, I don’t know. It isn’t often that I conduct a symphony in the kitchen at the office.”

“Well, that’s a shame. You should try it. It’s good for the soul.”

“I think I’ll skip giving that a shot considering how well your attempt just worked out.” I pointed to the roll of paper towels. “Can you hand me those?”

“Oh, God…it’s still not stopping.”

I swapped out the bloody paper towels for some fresh ones. Stella began to look a little pale.

“You should sit down,” she said. “Put your head back.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who should be sitting. You look like a ghost. Sit down, Stella.”

She held on to the table while she slipped into a chair. “I don’t like blood. It makes me feel queasy. Maybe we should both sit.”

Since it didn’t seem like my nose planned to stop anytime soon, I sat down across from her.

Stella kept shaking her head. “I’m so, so sorry.” She held her hand to her chest. “I can’t believe I hit you. It was a gut reaction. I didn’t even see who was there. It all happened so fast.”

“It’s fine. It’s my own fault. I should know by now that you’re jumpy. And you didn’t know I came back. I misread the situation.”

“Shouldn’t you be tilting your head back?”

“No. That’s the last thing you should do when you get a bloody nose. You pinch the soft part above the nostrils. Tilting your head back only makes you swallow the blood.”

Her face wrinkled, and she covered her mouth. “That’s gross.”

For the first time, I noticed her knuckles were red. Two were starting to swell. I lifted my chin and pointed. “How does your hand feel?”

“Oh…I’m not sure.” She stretched out her fingers, then made a fist before opening it again. It didn’t look like they were broken. “It’s sore, actually. I think the adrenaline was rushing through me, so I didn’t feel it until now.”

I stood and went to the refrigerator. The best I could replace in the freezer was a Lean Cuisine. I wrapped it in a paper towel and handed it to her. “Hold this against your knuckles.”

“Shouldn’t you be using it?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Ten minutes later, the bleeding from my nose finally started to subside. “You pack a pretty damn good wallop there for a little thing.”

She shook her head. “I still can’t believe I did that. I’ve never hit anyone in my life. I thought I was alone in the office.”

“I did leave. But I forgot something for a meeting I have uptown early tomorrow morning, so I came back. I heard the icemaker when I passed the lunchroom and realized you were still here. I figured I’d let you know I would reset the alarm on my way out, but I guess you’ve got security covered with that right hook.”

She smiled, but it quickly fell to a frown as she looked at my nose. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m okay. The nose just bleeds a lot. I’m going to go to the men’s room and wash up before I head out.” I pointed my eyes to her hand. “You sure you’re okay?”

Stella took off the makeshift ice and flexed her fingers. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

I stood. “Don’t stay too late, Rocky.”

“What the fuck happened to you?” Jack leaned back in his chair with a giant smile on his face. The fucker was enjoying this moment a little too much.

This morning I’d been going about my regular business, brushing my teeth, when I glanced up to the mirror and found two black eyes reflected back at me. It looked a lot worse than it felt. My nose didn’t really hurt unless I touched it. But both eyes were swollen, with black and purple rings beneath them. I’d slipped on sunglasses before I left my house, so it was easy to forget the problem—until I’d taken them off in my friend’s office just now.

“Who clocked you?” He leaned forward to get a closer look. “Whoever it was did a better job than I did that night we got into a drunken fight over who would win a drunken fight if we had one. I barely left a mark when I sucker-punched you, yet I had to get thirteen stitches when you got up off the ground and socked me back.”

“The person who did this was definitely much stronger than you.”

“Who was it?”

I smirked. “Stella…you fucking pussy.”

Jack’s eyebrows jumped. “A woman did that? Who the hell is Stella?”

“Remember the woman you met at Olivia’s wedding? The one who sniffed the shots at the bar? I won two-hundred bucks from her being able to identify the brand of gin by smelling it.”

“The hot one who turned out to be a crasher?”

“That’s the one.”

“Okay. What about her?”

“Her name is Stella.”

Jack’s face wrinkled. “I thought that woman’s name was Evelyn.”

I hadn’t yet filled my friend in on the shit that had transpired since the wedding, even though I’d actually come today to discuss Signature Scent. Jack was the vice president of one of the largest media conglomerates—that happened to own the most popular home shopping television station. I thought perhaps he could introduce me to some of the bigwigs there to discuss the possibility of getting Stella’s perfume featured as a product on one of their shows.

“She was a wedding crasher, dumbass. She wasn’t using her real name.”

“Oh, shit. Okay, that makes sense. So hot sniffer girl is really Stella.”

“That’s correct.”

“And she punched you because…”

It was probably easiest if I backed up and explained from the beginning, so I did. Starting at the lost phone, I made my way through my sister’s bleeding heart and finally wound up at the purpose of my visit today.

When I was done, Jack sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “You’ve had plenty of investments in companies you could have used my connections for. A few times I’ve even told you you were dumb not to come to me. Your response is always that you don’t like to mix business with friendship. What’s changed?”

“Nothing.”

He tilted his head. “Yet here you are…”

“I’m asking for an introduction, not for you to go out on a limb.”

Jack shrugged. “You’ve had a dozen products you could have asked for my help with over the years. Yet this is the first one you’re sitting on the other side of my desk about. You wanna know what I think?”

“Don’t really give two shits what you think, so no.”

He smirked. “I think you’re hot for the sniffer, and you want to impress her.”

Why the hell does everyone in my life ask me if I want to know what they think and then when I say no, they tell me anyway?

I shook my head. “I’m invested financially in the company, jackass.”

The last thing I needed was Jack knowing the woman who gave me two black eyes had basically shot me down. He’d still be busting my balls about it when we were making bets from our wheelchairs.

“You were invested in all the companies you could have come to me about,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Yes, but you know why?”

“Because you owe me four-thousand favors?”

“Maybe, but that’s not why I’m doing it. I’m doing it because it’s been a long time since you made an effort with a woman. You’re used to just walking into a bar, showing that pretty face, and taking the pick of the litter home. This is good. I hate spending so much time with Alana’s sister’s husband. He’s a tool.”

“I’m lost. What does your wife’s sister’s husband have to do with this conversation?”

“Simple. If you had a goddamned girlfriend, we could go out to dinner with you and her sometimes, instead of Allison and Chuck. Who the hell under the age of sixty calls themselves Chuck, anyway?”

“I’m not going out with Stella.” Until she asks.

Jack smiled. “We’ll see.”

My best friend might be a pain in my ass, but he had damn good connections. Over the next two hours, not only did he introduce me to the head of the shopping network’s buying team, he also took me on set to watch the end of the show they were currently taping. By the time he was done, he’d managed to sell the famous host on the concept of Signature Scent and gotten her to invite Stella and me to lunch the next day.

“Thanks a lot for the introductions.” I shook Jack’s hand in the building’s lobby. “I need to get back to the office, but I owe you a beer soon.”

Jack smiled. “Nah. We’ll call it even since you’ll be saving me from listening to more of Chuck’s stories about bunions. Couldn’t he at least be a gynecologist rather than a podiatrist?”

“I’ll call you next week for that beer.”

“You mean dinner with me, Alana, and Stella?”

“Once again, I’m not going out with Stella.”

Jack smirked. “We’ll see about that…”

I had one hand on the door when Jack yelled again, “Maybe I’ll join you at lunch tomorrow—get to know my wife’s new best friend.”

Stella rapped on my office doorframe. “Hey, do you have a second? I was going over these reports Helena brought by and—” Her eyes widened to saucers when I looked up. “Oh my God! Please tell me I didn’t do that?”

I nodded. “Okay. You didn’t give me two black eyes. I got into a fistfight with the kid at the deli down the block. He wrote my name wrong on my cup, and it pissed me off.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not.” I waved my hand at my face. “This is all your handiwork, Rocky.”

Her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. I feel absolutely awful. Does it hurt?”

“Yes, I’m in excruciating pain.”

“Oh, God.”

She looked pretty upset, so I had to put her out of her misery. “Relax. I’m joking. It looks bad, but I feel fine.”

“I can’t believe I did all that.”

“How’s your hand?”

She opened and closed it. “My knuckles are sore, but I’ll live. Really, Hudson, I’m so sorry I hit you.” Stella had a white paper bag in her other hand and held it out to me. “Here, take this muffin. It’s still warm. I just picked it up from the deli down the block.”

Was she offering me a muffin to make up for two black eyes? “Out of Hershey bars?”

She grinned. “Actually, I am. I ate my emergency stash last night after you left. This is all I have to offer.”

I chuckled and raised a hand. “I’m good. Thanks anyway.”

“Please take it. It’ll make me feel better.”

This woman was something. She walked to my desk and set the bag down on the corner.

I shook my head. “Fine. Thank you. So what was your question?”

“My question?”

“Something about the reports Helena brought over?”

“Oh yeah—I have a few questions on the purchase orders Helena asked me to approve. Do you have some time?” She thumbed over her shoulder. “I can run back to my office and get them. I came by this morning, but you weren’t in yet.”

I looked down at my watch. “I have a call in a few minutes. It shouldn’t be long—maybe about a half hour. Why don’t I stop by your office when I’m done.”

“That would be great. I’ll see you in a little bit then.”

After she walked away, I stared at the empty doorway for a minute. Was it just me, or had the energy in the office changed since she started working here? I had two black eyes and more work than ever, yet I felt more balanced than usual.

I sighed and went back to work. It was probably just the blow to the face.

After I finished my call, I headed down to replace Stella. Her office door was open, but her face was mostly hidden behind a huge bouquet of brightly colored flowers on her desk. Her nose was also buried in papers, so she didn’t immediately notice me.

“Nice flowers.” I raised a brow. “Ken?”

“If you mean Ben, then no. The flowers are for my friend’s birthday.”

“You had them delivered here to bring to her?”

She shook her head. “Her is a he, and today’s his birthday. But he sent me the flowers because he doesn’t like to celebrate the day. Fisher’s mom passed away two years ago on his birthday, so it’s a hard day for him. Instead of celebrating himself, it seems he now sends me gifts.”

That was unusual for most people, but sounded about right for Stella. “You ready to go through the reports you had questions on?”

“Yes, please.”

I took a seat on the other side of her desk. While she turned to rifle through some papers on the credenza behind her, my eyes snagged on a leather book sitting in an open box next to the flowers—or more specifically, the word engraved on it.

“Writing down your fantasies about me?” I asked. “I already told you all you have to do is ask me out.”

Stella’s forehead wrinkled, so I pointed my eyes at the book with the word Diary across the front.

“Oh…no, that’s not mine. The messenger who delivered the flowers brought it. It’s another gift from Fisher.”

“You keep a diary?”

“No, it belongs to someone else. Or at least it did.” She reached across the desk and nabbed it, tucking it away in a drawer.

As usual when it came to Stella, I was lost. “And you have someone else’s diary because…”

She sighed. “Can we just forget you saw it?”

I shook my head slowly. “Not a chance.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if I tell you, you can’t make fun of me.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “This is getting more intriguing by the moment. I can’t wait to hear this story.”

“It’s not a story, really. It’s just a hobby of mine.”

“Writing in diaries?”

“No. I don’t write in them. I read them.”

My brows shot up. “How exactly do you come across these diaries? Do you steal them or something?”

“Of course not. I’m not a thief. I usually buy them on eBay.”

“You buy other people’s diaries on eBay?”

She nodded. “There’s a big market for them, actually. Some people are into watching reality TV. I prefer to read my drama. Reading someone’s diary isn’t all that different.”

“Uh-huh….”

“No, really. Millions of people watch those Real Housewives shows and Jersey Shore. It’s the same thing, if you think about it—people airing their dirty laundry and keeping secrets.”

I scratched my chin. “How exactly does one get into this hobby?”

She sighed. “When I was twelve, I went to a garage sale. I saw a brown leather book on a table, so I picked it up to smell it.”

“Of course you did.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t interrupt or I’m not going to finish my story.”

“Continue…”

For the next five minutes she rambled on about smelling a diary at a garage sale, her crush on some kid who played football, and how she’d had no idea the diary was written in when she bought it. By the time she took a breath, I even knew how much she’d paid for the damn thing fifteen years ago.

I just kept staring at her, trying to keep up and waiting for her to get to the point. Though Stella didn’t seem to notice. Then she looked at me like she wanted to make sure I was following her. So I nodded. “Okay…”

“I realized I’d bought a used diary, and I wasn’t going to read it, but my curiosity got the best of me. It turned out to be a thirty-year-old diary written by a girl a year older than I was at the time. In the first few entries, she wrote about a boy she liked and her first kiss. I was hooked and couldn’t stop. I read the entire thing in one night. After that, I checked every garage sale I went to for six months, trying to replace another diary. But I never did. I’d pretty much forgotten about diaries when I stumbled upon one on eBay a few years later. That’s when I learned there was an entire market for used diaries. I’ve been buying them ever since. Most people watch a show or two before they go to bed; I like to read an entry or two a night.”

“So your friend bought you a used diary for his birthday?”

“Actually, I bought the diary. But it’s written in Italian. Fisher had it translated for me for his birthday.”

I processed that for a moment. “Out of curiosity, what does a diary like that set you back on eBay?”

“It varies. If you buy a woman’s diary, it’s usually anywhere from fifty to a hundred dollars. Some people sell photocopied diaries, and those are cheaper since they can sell it to multiple people. Original diaries from the eighteen hundreds can go for a lot more, and men’s, no matter how old they are, are always a premium.”

“Men’s? Men write in diaries?”

“Some do. But they’re rare and can get pretty expensive.”

I was dumbfounded. An entire world existed that I knew nothing about. I lifted my chin toward the drawer where she’d tucked the diary away. “Who does the one you have belong to?”

“His name is Marco. He lives in Italy.”

“What’s his story?”

“I’m not sure yet. I haven’t started reading it. But I’m really excited to. I’m going to have to be strict about only reading an entry a night, or I’ll wind up finishing it in one sitting. Italian diaries are the best. The people there are so passionate about everything.”

“If you say so. You know your hobby is a bit strange, right?”

“I do. But so what? It makes me happy.”

It struck a chord, the way something so simple could make her happy. There hadn’t been much that had done it for me the last few years since my divorce—not even the women I went out with. Maybe I was a little envious.

Regardless, we had work to do. So I cleared my throat. “Why don’t you show me what you wanted to discuss when you came to my office?”

Stella and I worked through her questions and fixed some errors the purchasing department had made while prepping product orders. I had an afternoon meeting to get to, so I told her to let me know if she needed anything else and stood to go.

At the door, I realized I hadn’t told her the good news. “I almost forgot—I used a connection to talk about your product with the executives at a home shopping network.”

“Really? Did they like it?”

“A lot, actually. Both the head buyer and the host of one of the shows loved the concept. They want to see it in person. Robyn invited us to have lunch tomorrow. I hope you don’t have plans.”

Her mouth hung open. “Robyn? As in Robyn Quinn? The queen of the Home Shopping Channel?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh my God! This is huge! How could you have come in here and let me babble for the last hour and not mention that sooner?”

“I guess I forgot. Listening to your stories makes my brain power down.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to let that slide and not punch you again since you scored an appointment that could be life changing.”

I smiled. “Robyn’s going to email me with the time and details. I’ll forward it along when I get it.”

“Okay! Wow. This is turning out to be a great day. I might have to celebrate by reading two entries from Marco tonight.”

“You’re a real wild woman.”

She shrugged. “I might not be, but sometimes the people in my diary are.”