Wishful Thinking

  “I’ll go barefoot and we can just go through the drive through,” Phil told him. “Meet you in front of the building, okay?”

  “Sure. Bye.” Josh hung up and she ran to get changed. Shimmying out of her evening dress and into a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt without smearing her polish was a trick but Phil still managed to be waiting on the sidewalk when he arrived. The cement was still warm from the summer sun and she could feel it baking up through the soles of her feet when she hopped into his little hybrid.

  “Looking good, Swann.” He smiled at her as she buckled her seat belt. Josh Bowman was ridiculously tall with broad shoulders to match and shaggy thick brown hair that always looked in need of a haircut. He had big brown eyes and a charmingly lopsided grin with one crooked tooth right in front—not the classical features like Davis Miles, the hottest guy at her office, or sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes like Christian, but there was something about his mismatched features that just seemed to work. Which was, doubtless, what had prompted Rory to call him “hot” after seeing his picture. Of course, Phil never thought of him as anything but a friend, but the open, easy way he talked and his warm laughter had drawn her to him from the start.

  “In this?” Phil looked down at her plain blue T-shirt and shorts. “I’m hardly dressed for the opera at the moment.”

  “No, your hair. He gestured at her. “I almost never get to see you with your hair down.”

  “Oh.” Phil put a hand to her long blond hair self-consciously but Josh was already talking about something else.

  “So let me see the new sexy red toenails,” he demanded as he pulled out of her apartment parking lot.

  “Josh…” Phil laughed at him.

  “No, seriously, let me see them.” He patted the dash. “Put ‘em up here.”

  Christian would have died if she’d dared to put her bare feet on the dashboard of his Lexus but Josh was easygoing enough that Phil didn’t hesitate.

  “There, happy?” she asked, propping her bare feet on the dashboard and wiggling her toes at him.

  “More than happy. What hot little piggies.” Josh made a lustful face at her toes and pretended to swerve as he leaned forward to look. “And tomorrow at work I’m the only one who’ll know what’s under those sensible black shoes of yours.”

  Phil giggled. “Didn’t know you had such a foot fetish, Bowman.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m big into foot porn,” he said with a straight face. “And I have all these websites book marked, you know, like Kiss My Foot and Toe Bondage.”

  “And The Foot Forum,” she said, getting into the game.

  He nodded. “Oh, yeah—that’s one of my favorites. And I have a subscription to Penthouse Foot Letters. Except all the letters seem to start, ‘You’re not going to believe this but it’s true—the other night I was working late at the shoe store when this incredibly hot blonde with corns walked in and asked me for a foot massage. The next thing I knew she had chocolate syrup between every toe and whipped cream up to her ankles…’”

  Phil was cracking up by this time. “Eww! Josh, you’re too much. And why would anyone have chocolate syrup and whipped cream at a shoe store?”

  He grinned at her. “I don’t know—maybe the guy was going to make a banana split later. Shoe store employees like ice cream too, you know. Speaking of which, here we are. You want one scoop or two?”

  Phil sat up, surprised that the drive had gone so quickly. Josh was already pulling into the drive through of I Scream, U Scream, ready to place their order.

  “Uh, better just make it one,” she said. “We were at Berns tonight and you know how rich the food is there.”

  “Entertaining more clients?” Josh knew all about the situation with Christian’s job. Phil found him easy to talk to and not as quick to criticize as Cass and Rory usually were.

  “Always.” She sighed as he placed their order. I Scream was unusually quiet and they were able to pull through and get their order in a matter of minutes.

  “You wanna eat it here or take it home?” Josh asked, passing her a plastic spoon and the little paper cup of ultra-premium ice cream.

  Phil thought about sitting alone on the couch at home while Christian worked into the night. “Let’s park,” she decided, digging her spoon into the gooey chocolate lump in her cup. Love Potion Number Nine was basically frozen fudge dotted with tiny little chocolate cups filled with raspberry sauce. It was decadent and sinful but after the night she’d just suffered through, Phil figured she deserved it.

  “You got it.” Josh pulled into an empty space across from the small pink ice cream shop. “You’re sure Christian won’t mind me keeping you out late?”

  “Huh? Oh, no.” Phil shrugged. “Christian’s not the jealous type.” It was true that at first she’d felt a little funny about doing the date-type things with Josh that she was used to do with her fiancé. But Cass and Rory weren’t always available and Christian was busy working all the time lately. Also he genuinely didn’t seem to mind. ‘Go on and have fun, don’t worry about me,’ he always told Phil, so she did. It was easy to have fun with her best friend—Josh could always make her laugh even when she was blue.

  “He’s a little too trusting if you ask me,” Josh said, putting the car into park and digging into his ice cream. “I mean, how does he know I don’t have you out here sucking your sexy toes?”

  “Josh!” Phil nudged him with an elbow and laughed. “He knows he can trust me because you and I are just friends.”

  “Friends with a foot fetish,” Josh reminded her gravely. “For all your fiancé knows I could be licking chocolate sauce off your instep this minute.”

  “Enough already.” Phil gave him a mock glare. “Is the only reason you got me out here to talk dirty?”

  “Dirty?” He leaned over and looked at her feet. “I don’t know, Swann. They look pretty clean to me.” Phil pretended to hit him and he ducked. “All right, all right, I did have ulterior motives. I have something for you—kind of a pre-birthday gift.”

  Phil sat up in the seat, ice cream forgotten. “Josh, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Sure I should.” He smiled easily. “Besides, it’s not any real big thing. I just burned you a CD. Here.” He reached in front of her to open the glove box and Phil couldn’t help noticing the warmth of his muscular arm against her side. He fumbled for a minute and then pulled out a flat green plastic case. “Here it is; I knew I stuck it in there somewhere. For you, my lady.” He handed it to Phil with a flourish and she opened it excitedly. She loved getting little presents and loved Josh for knowing that about her. At least once a month he gave her some little trinket he’d found in a flea market or specialty store that he knew she’d like. It was never anything big—just little, thoughtful gifts that let her know Josh was thinking of her.

  “Oh, the soundtrack from Wicked!” she exclaimed, looking at the CD. He’d even gone to the trouble of making a label for it with the original soundtrack’s logo. “Thank you, Josh. I’ve been wanting this for ages.” Ever since Rory had raved about seeing the touring production of the hit musical for her music appreciation class last semester, Phil had been longing to go herself. There was no point in asking Christian, though. Even if they could afford the tickets, and she was sure they couldn’t, he wouldn’t have been caught dead at a musical.

  “It’s coming to the performing arts center next year, you know,” Josh said, smiling at her delighted reaction.

  Phil sighed. “I know but there’s no way Christian will take me. He doesn’t do musicals.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll go with you if you want when it comes to town.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?” Phil looked at him doubtfully. “I mean, Christian says musicals are for girls and gay guys.”

  “Well I’m neither one of those.” Josh laughed. “But hey, good music is good music. I was listening to it after I downloaded it for you and I kinda liked it.”

  “It would be a lot of fun,” Phil said wistfully. “I can’t
remember the last time I got dressed up to go anywhere but out with one of Christian’s clients. Well, at least it’ll just be the two of us tomorrow.”

  “To celebrate, right.” Josh looked thoughtful as he scooped up the last of his Love Potion Number Nine. “Well, I guess we better get back since tomorrow’s Monday.”

  Phil groaned as she put down the CD and picked up her cup of rapidly melting ice cream. “Don’t remind me!”

  “Just another day in paradise, Swann,” Josh said cheerfully, starting the engine. “Just think, if we didn’t both work at beautiful BB&D, we might never have met. And then who would take you out for ice cream and beg to lick chocolate off your toes?”

  “No one,” Phil admitted, laughing. The answer ought to have been Christian, she knew. But her fiancé never seemed to have time for the simple pleasures in life, like going out for ice cream or having a little fun that didn’t involve the almighty expense account. Not for the first time, she wished that her birthday wish could change another person’s life besides her own. She was sure if she was very careful and worded it properly, the wish could make a difference in her relationship with her fiancé. Maybe she ought to wish she would be more visible to Christian. But then, her fairy godmother’s magic would probably make her grow a horn in the middle of her forehead or turn her purple. That would certainly make her visible all right and not in a good way. No, it was no good wishing for anything to do with Christian. She would have to deal with her fiancé on her own.

  “You’re awfully quiet. What are you thinking of?” Josh’s voice surprised her and she looked up to see that they were already outside her apartment building.

  “Oh, nothing. Just spacing out,” Phil lied, wishing she could tell him the truth. Somehow she had a feeling that if she could get anyone to understand about her fairy godmother’s magic, it would be Josh. But that was crazy—he would just hear a buzzing sound or change the subject like everyone else without fairy blood.

  “Are you sure?” Josh looked concerned. “Seriously, Phil, you know if you want to talk about something…”

  “I know.” Phil smiled at him. Not even her sisters picked up on her moods as quickly as Josh. He seemed to have some invisible radar tuned just to her and he always knew when she was unhappy or upset about something.

  “Guess I better get going.” She sighed and fumbled for the door latch. “Here, give me your ice cream cup and I’ll throw it away.”

  Josh did as she asked, stacking his small paper cup neatly with hers. “You want me to walk you up?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” In their old apartment complex she would have said yes in an instant—it was spooky at night and not in the best part of town. But now that she and Christian lived someplace halfway decent, she had no excuse for Josh to see her to her door although she knew he would have if she’d asked.

  “Well, see you tomorrow then.” He smiled at her and Phil returned the smile warmly. She was so lucky to have such a great friend, especially now when she and Christian were going through kind of a rough time. Well, not really a rough time per se, she backpedaled hastily. They were just…getting settled. And once Christian got really established at his new law office, she knew things would go back to normal. In the meantime, she had more immediate problems to worry about—like what she was going to wish for when the FG appeared.

  “See you tomorrow,” she told Josh as she shut the door. She saw him wave as he put his little hybrid car in gear and she waved back, her hands full of empty ice cream cups and the Wicked CD.

  As she walked up the steps to her apartment, she dragged her mind away from her best friend and her fiancé and wondered what she could wish for that wouldn’t mess up her life completely.

  Chapter Three

  The quiet beeping of her alarm clock woke her and Phil pulled on her robe and slippers and climbed out of bed quickly to go make the coffee. Christian liked hot black coffee and the morning paper as soon as he woke up or he was cranky the whole day. He always said it was the only way to start things off right. Phil had been making sure his mornings went smoothly for almost five years now—four of which they had been engaged.

  Phil had met her fiancé in college where they were both pre-law and they moved in together very quickly. Christian was the only serious boyfriend she’d ever had and when he’d pointed out that it made more sense for one of them to go to law school at a time, to avoid taking too many loans, she had reluctantly agreed. Phil had gotten a degree as a paralegal instead but she still planned to go back and attend law school herself after the wedding. If there ever was a wedding.

  She squashed that negative thought and tiptoed to the front door to get the paper. They had recently moved into a much nicer apartment building than the one they had been able to afford before Christian passed the bar and got a job with the leading corporate law firm in the city. What Phil liked most about the apartment was that the paper boy actually delivered right to the door. In the old building, she’d had to go down three flights and across a walkway filled with sharp gravel to get the morning news. Here, all she had to do was reach outside her own front door.

  Phil opened the door and reached…but no paper met her grasping hand. Wrapping her purple bathrobe (a gift from Cass) more tightly around her shoulders, she looked at her watch. Seven exactly and the paper was always delivered at six fifteen on the dot—Christian had made sure of that when they signed the lease. Phil ground her teeth together. She knew exactly where her missing paper had gone. Sighing, she stepped to the door across from hers and rapped lightly on its glossy brown wood.

  She could hear a set of shuffling steps on the other side and then the sound of innumerable locks and bolts being thrown. The door cracked open to show one beady black eye and Mrs. Tessenbacker, her neighbor, was peering out at her.

  “Yes?” she said suspiciously, before she caught sight of Phil. “Oh, good morning, Philomena!” she warbled, a wide grin creasing her cheeks. The improbably white dentures in her wrinkled face made her look like an ancient crocodile. And ancient cheap crocodile, Phil thought resentfully.

  “Mrs. Tessenbacker,” she said, trying to smile. “Did you happen to see our paper this morning? You know how Christian likes to read it every morning before work.”

  “Hmm.” The old lady wrinkled her forehead even more and tapped her cheek with one crooked finger as though lost in thought. Phil repressed the urge to tap her foot on the floor at the Oscar-worthy performance. It was all a formality and they both knew it.

  “It’s supposed to be here at six fifteen,” she reminded her neighbor tightly. And I know you took it! Of course, she couldn’t make the accusation out loud. Thanks again, fairy godmother.

  “Oh, of course,” Mrs. Tessenbacker said. “I remember now—I was running low on potty paper for my little Doodle-bug so I borrowed it. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  Phil suppressed a groan. Doodle-bug was the name of Mrs. Tessenbacker’s bad-tempered Yorkshire terrier that barked half the night and peed on everything in sight. Phil could see why her neighbor needed newspaper—if she owned an animal like Doodle-bug she would’ve been tempted to paper every surface in her entire apartment. But it wasn’t like the old lady couldn’t afford her own. Phil regularly saw her walking Doodle-bug on a long leather leash with a diamond studded collar. But her elderly neighbor was too cheap to buy her own paper and had been stealing Phil’s at least twice a week ever since she figured out that Phil wouldn’t make a fuss.

  “I hope it’s not a problem.” The old lady gave her another crocodile grin.

  Phil took a deep breath. Once, just once she wanted to be able to tell her thieving neighbor that she did mind. That she didn’t buy the paper for some spoiled bundle of ratty fur to use as a toilet. In fact, she didn’t buy the paper for herself at all—she bought it for Christian and now he was going to be in a bad mood all day because he didn’t have it. Was it too much to ask that her fiancé be in a good mood on her birthday, she wondered. Was it?

  Out loud, she
said, “Did you at least save the sports section, Mrs. Tessenbacker? If I could just have that…”

  “Well now, let me see.” The old lady disappeared again and returned with a wrinkled section of newspaper that was damp on one corner. “Here you are,” she said proudly, as though she were doing Phil a favor. “Doodle-bug only made wee-wee on part of it. He’s such a little scamp.”

  As though in answer to her words there was a sharp, yipping bark and a ball of dirty brown and gray fur came rushing from between Mrs. Tessenbacker’s ankles. Doodle-bug glared up at Phil, his miniature body quivering with the high pitched growl that rumbled up his tiny throat. Then, before Phil could step back, he hiked his hind leg and liberally sprayed the purple fuzzy slippers that went with her robe before retreating.

  “Oh my.” Mrs. Tessenbacker looked like she was trying to hold back a giggle. “That naughty boy! He certainly makes it known when he doesn’t like someone.”

  Phil bit the inside of her cheek with frustration. I’d like to show him what I think of him too—preferably with my foot! “Goodbye Mrs. Tessenbacker,” she said stiffly. With as much dignity as she could muster, she squished back across the hall with the damp paper held out at arm’s length. It was already turning out to be a fabulous birthday so far and she still hadn’t thought of a good wish.

  Once inside she took a quick shower and dried the paper with the blow dryer. She believed honesty was important in a relationship but in this case what her fiancé didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

  Christian staggered sleepily into the kitchen, which Phil had painted pale green with a daisy border, just as she was pouring his coffee. “Morning, sleepyhead.” Phil smiled at him and folded the sports section neatly, trying not to touch the slightly yellow part. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  “Morning, babe.” Christian yawned hugely and rubbed a hand through his hair until it stood up in a dark blond halo around his head before plopping down at the table. He had big blue eyes to go with his blond hair and a natural tan that never seemed to fade even in winter. His classically handsome features made other women stare when they were out together, which always made Phil proud that he had chosen her. Now he looked sleepy and rumpled but still devastatingly handsome as he mumbled, “Nice my ass. Just another Monday, huh?”