Now You See Me, Now You Don't!

CELESTE

If you knew me as my parents and Layla knew me, you would consider me a quirky, funny person. At least, that’s what they tell me, but you’d never know it from looking at me.

My dull dark-brown hair, my black glasses, and plain work clothes… I already know I don’t fit in with the Los Angeles vibe.

I take work seriously, but that’s about it. I like to have fun, be goofy, stay up all night eating pizza and popcorn, watching romantic comedies.

Oh, if only Adam Sandler was single, I think he’d be my dream guy: egg-shaped head and all.

I don’t have high standards in guys at all. I mean, let’s be real, I can’t be picky when it’s a miracle that any guy notices me at all.

So, no, I look more for personality.

Is he smart? Does he make me laugh? Does he treat me right? Does he strive for a good career?

No, I said I don’t have high standards, not that I have none.

I won’t fall for a bum or some cute guy I meet in a bar. I’ve heard meeting guys at the bar is just a disaster waiting to happen.

Driving to my new home in LA, I realize I know absolutely nothing about the area. I stay within proximity of the essential places: the Los Angeles airport; Inglewood, where the firm Blanchards is located; and then, Ladera Heights.

Just outside Inglewood and the only place I could find a somewhat affordable apartment at the last minute.

I planned to drive to and from work, not relying on any public transit.

Why? Well, after multiple weird and disturbing experiences using the subway in New York… You tell me.

From someone sitting across from me on the NY subway, clipping their toenails, Yea. Or to coming home late one night from Danny’s apartment. It looked like a bachelor party of guys stumbling on the train, drunk as can be.

The groom had a blow-up doll sitting with him—you can imagine what he was doing.

While the other two guys from his party were getting blowjobs in the rows behind him. One guy got a blow job from a hooker. The other guy…got it from a guy.

Yea, you can’t unsee stuff like that.

So, like I said, I will definitely be driving from now on.

I am definitely in California. From the nice weather outside, the palm trees blowing in the nice breeze, and the colorfully decorated buildings. It just brings a happy sort of vibe to the whole city.

I arrive at the company’s office, and when I step off the elevator, I am blown away by the modern vibe of the office.

Well-lit modern office cubicles, all-glass, transparent conference rooms, a huge beverage bar filled with snacks, donuts, water, energy drinks, coffee, etc.

I’m pleasantly greeted by the receptionist, and the CEO of the company, John White, comes out to greet me.

Shaking my hand firmly, he begins to give me a tour around the office while also explaining more about the company and how they operate.

Next, John takes me to one of the conference rooms and introduces me to the rest of the design team, the people I’d be working closely with in my new position.

Travis Web and Tiffany Jefferson. They are both personable when meeting me.

Travis looks like a California local, like the surfer types you see a lot of around here.

He is super handsome, has natural blond hair, a little spiked at the top with gel, a tanned body, and is pretty muscular, if you ask me, probably from surfing a lot and maybe hitting the gym too.

Tiffany also looks like she could be from here too. She has flaming-red hair; you could tell it was dyed and not natural, but it really suited her.

She looks like she has my type of personality: spunky and quirky; although, she didn’t try to hide it one bit.

Her red hair definitely draws enough attention to her, but she has also paired her hair color with bright-pink lipstick, a bright-yellow suit jacket with a light-blue jumpsuit underneath, and I even notice her bright-teal nails.

I immediately envy that about her. Her bold look shows off her personality, the confidence she exudes. I’m too scared to even get my eyeglasses in a bold color and always stick with boring black.

After introductions, John shows me my office.

My private office. With a window. I couldn’t believe it.

I was actually here. I was actually in an important position.

With Travis and Tiffany working for me, basically, it was like I was their boss. Today couldn’t get any better.

After setting up my office and going through a pile of documents about current projects, I take my lunch break.

I am shocked to see they have a full café in the office for the staff, so I don’t have to venture outside anywhere or bring my own lunch.

“Hey, how’s your first day going so far?” Tiffany asks me, coming over to sit next to me at my empty table.

Wow. Someone sat next to me. That’s a first.

“It’s great. A lot of work to catch up on and get filled in, but I think I’m going to like it here,” I answer with a happy smile on my face because I truly mean it.

“I love your hair by the way. And your nail color.”

“Oh. Thanks. I got them done at Chayil Maison Nail Salon downtown. We should go there for a spa day together sometime.”

Wow. REALLY.

“That would be great. I don’t really know the area well at all,” I admit.

“I can show you around. If you’re not busy tonight, we could grab a bite to eat and have drinks downtown?”

Wow. She is so nice.

“Yea, that sounds great. I’d love that,” I say with a smile, trying not to burst into sheer excitement.

“Awesome. We can meet there after work.”

“Actually, this is kinda sad, but my car is so old I don’t have a GPS or anything.”

Great, now she’ll think I’m a poor loser and will probably rescind her invitation.

Even my phone is so old and cracked that it hardly ever holds a charge for a long period of time. Every time I try to use Waze, it dies. That’s what college debt and unpaid internships get you in today’s world.

“Oh, that’s okay, why don’t you follow me from here? I have to run home and feed my dog first, but if you don’t mind, you can follow me to my place and head downtown from there.”

“Okay. That works. Thanks so much.”

“Of course. I’ve been waiting for a girl who understands my quirkiness. I think we’re going to be great friends.”

Wow. Me too.

The end of the day comes quickly with my head buried deep in paperwork.

Tiffany comes to my office and we walk out of the building together.

I start my car and she pulls up beside me.

“Just follow me, okay?” she shouts out her window and starts to head out.

God. I can’t stop staring at her red hair. If I were bold enough to color my hair, what color would I choose?

She mentioned she’s from Marina Del Rey, which is about a fifteen-minute drive from the office and about a thirty- to forty-minute drive to downtown, depending on traffic.

We hop on I-405 N and I follow her for about one-and-a-quarter mile before her blinker goes on to take CA-90 to Lincoln Blvd.

As I put my blinker on and the lanes narrow down, some stupid silver Mustang comes bombing up from behind, cutting me off, veering into my lane just before the second lane ends.

I throw on my brakes and lay on my horn. I’m not one for road rage or calling anyone bad names or cursing my brains out, but come on.

“SERIOUSLY,” I shout to myself.

This guy almost killed me. I could have gotten in a serious accident.

After two minutes or so, my heart rate finally comes down and the silver Mustang swerves like a maniac into the other lane and speeds off again.

“Adios to you too.” I give him the finger in my mind.

As I stare at the cars in front of me, it hits me.

“Shit.”

What did Tiffany’s car look like again?

What color and model have I been following?

Damnit, Celeste. You were too caught up in her flaming-red hair to remember what kind of car she drives.

Well, shit.

I make some ugly faces in the car, thinking, straining my brain, trying to remember.

I think she was driving a…black Audi…or was it a dark blue Mercedes?

I look back to the cars in front of me, studying, trying to see if any look familiar.

Ahh. Up ahead in the next lane over from me was a black Audi.

That has to be her.

I put my blinker on and get behind the Audi.

Yea, this has to be her.

We travel on Lincoln Blvd for about five miles before turning onto the fourth street. We travel that road for another five miles or so before turning again onto Neilson Way.

I start to think to myself…

Gee, this feels like way more than a fifteen-minute drive…

A few more miles and a couple of turns later, the Audi starts to slow up and turns to a nice side road adjacent to the water.

I get mesmerized by the view Tiffany is blessed to look at from her place.

I follow the car as it turns into a driveway and stops briefly at the security gate. I’m mesmerized again at the house behind the gate.

“Wow.”

This is the typical California house you picture movie stars living in. Very modern, clean lines. It’s an off-white house with black trim tinted windows and a huge, sleek deck surrounded by modern wire rails, overlooking the water view.

After a moment of being stuck in my trance, I begin to pull into the driveway behind the Audi.

Only, the gate closes in front of me, locking me out.

Wait, what?

There must be a mistake.

I pull up closer to the intercom outside the gate and buzz for assistance.

“Yes?”

“Um, Hi. I’m with Tiffany,” I shout back through the speakers.

“Who?”

“Tiffany. Tiffany Jefferson.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other side, so I speak again.

“I’m her coworker…she told me to follow her home…”

“I’m sorry, there’s no Tiffany at this residence. What did you say your name was?”

“I’m Celeste. Celeste Miller. There must be a mistake. She told me to follow her home…I’ve been following this Audi for twenty minutes.”

The guy through the speaker goes quiet before I hear muffled voices. He’s speaking to someone else from his end of the booth.

“Yes, that’s right. She says her name is Celeste Miller…are you sure?”

Before I know it, I hear the sound of the gate opening up and the voice gets back on the intercom again. “You can go on through.”

“Thank you,” I shout back.

Boy. What is going on? Is Tiffany married or something to some big shot? Does she live with her family who is mega-rich?

All these thoughts are running through my mind as I wonder why Tiffany lives behind some high-tech super security system. It’s like I’m entering the Whitehouse.

I pull up behind the black Audi and the driver’s side door opens.

As the person steps out, the first thing I notice is a black shoe that looks freshly polished.

My eyes move upward, revealing a man in a black business suit and an earpiece.

Jesus. He looks like the CIA. Well, shit. That’s clearly not Tiffany.

Panic starts to set in. Where am I? Who did I follow?

And then, why did they open the security gate to let me in? Is that guy really CIA?

The man opens up the back seat door and my eyes do the same thing.

I see a fancy pair of Nike sneakers hit the pavement, followed by a long jean leg as the person steps out of the car, bending at the waist to get through the door.

My eyes follow the path to a denim shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing an extremely well-built, muscular chest.

His arm comes up to brush his hair back that was hiding his face for a brief moment.

But his arm.

Damn. You’d think the sleeve of his shirt would tear like the Hulk from the size of his bicep.

Is it hot out here?

My eyes keep drifting upward, and when his arm moves, it reveals his face.

Holy shit.

His same chiseled jawline. The same piercing dark-brown eyes. The same tossed black hair.

The same lips I’d stare at since freshman year of high school. The same lips that turned into a slightly slanted, smirking, cocky smile that got all the girls worked up.

That smile that I see right now with his eyes staring at me.

Oh. My. God.

Jace Makenzie.