Three Strikes

CHAPTER 1

It was a dark and foggy night, nothing unusual in the Bay Area. Stella Martin strode confidently through the mist and into a club pulsing with life. She could almost feel her batteries recharging, stepping into the fray of moving bodies, pulsing to the beat of recorded hits playing over the sound system while the band finished setting up. People, energy, movement, everything she craved.

The band began their set, and loyal fans rushed the stage, eager to be within sweating distance of the rockers. As she stood absorbing the vibe, her cell phone rang in her pocket and, reading Jamie Donovan’s name on the caller ID, she answered right away.

Hi!...what?...You need me to do what? Stella could barely hear her phone over the wailing on the stage behind her.

…private session…ABStech… She assumed Jamie was asking a favor for a client who worked at the rapidly rising tech firm.

Sure, when and for how many people? she yelled.

Just one…Tuesday morning? Jamie’s voice kept breaking in and out. Where was she?

Anytime between ten thirty and four, I’m free. Who’s it for?

…exec…Bas…eleven, OK? Stella tried to move through the crowd to get to a quieter spot, but such a space did not exist as the lead guitarist kicked off his solo.

OK. Confirm it with me tomorrow?

Of course…’preciate it…Saturday? She must have switched gears to the Girls’ Night Out plans Stella was in charge of next Saturday night.

Yeah, we’re all set. I’ve got the tarot reader all lined up. Listen, I can barely hear you. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?

OK! Have fun!

I always do.

Except lately, when going out and having fun had become a compulsive activity to avoid her quiet apartment.

After hanging up the phone, she opened her calendar to make a note. If she didn’t get it in her phone immediately, there was little chance she’d remember to do it later. Tuesday, eleven a.m., ABStech. Tuning back in to the band she’d been invited to see, she cringed as the lanky singer tried to hit notes that should not be legally attempted by males over the age of twelve. Wondering where her date was, Stella scanned the bar for Dex.

Dex, short for Dexter, had tried to pick her up at an alternative health fair they were both attending with a line about wanting to balance her chakras. She had given him points for making her laugh, and he was cute in a hipster, grungy, ten-years-too-young-for-her kind of way. The thought of an empty evening had been unappealing to say the least, which had led to her accepting his invite to meet up at the club to hear his buddy’s band.

She circled back to the bar to order her signature mojito while she waited and saw her date surrounded by a gaggle of grinning twenty-somethings out for a bachelorette party. They were eyeing his admittedly beautiful and well-displayed physique and playing with his man bun. Good Lord! He was actually wearing a man bun. Stella shook her head and decided against the drink. He was clearly in better company with his young lovelies, and she had no desire to stay and listen to the murder happening on the stage. She really didn’t need another Mr. Right Now.

For too long, Stella had leapt at any invitation that came her way. Hating to be lonely, she had decided to never be alone. Somehow this solution had backfired. While her burgeoning yoga practice kept her busy and engaged during the mornings and early evenings, late at night she found herself restless, dreading the endless stretch of moments until dawn. Salsa dancing, the local music scene, pottery classes, she’d tried them all and more, but nothing had really clicked for her. She was in limbo, waiting for the right thing to come along. Her determination to try new things had led to a string of short relationships with men who qualified for the title Mr. Right Now. She gave each of them a chance to become Mr. Right, but so far, no one had made the cut. That said, no Mr. Right Now was worth putting up with the God-awful noise coming from the stage.

Now, if Mr. Right came strolling through the door, maybe she could better stomach the angsty caterwauling. Feeling the tingles of fate, she turned to the door, willing her white knight to walk through the door.

As the thick wood panel swung open, her hair stood up on the back of her neck, a sure sign that something momentous was going to happen. Stella had never doubted her gut, until she got a good look at the guy who’d walked in. Several years older than the mean age in the club, retro Batman T-shirt, open flannel, and faded jeans… he managed to hit the awkward out of place note, while simultaneously blending in completely. Her hopes plummeted. He was cute in a slightly scruffy sort of way. In any other town, she would’ve gone over and flirted a little. But not here. He was wearing the techie uniform. One of the many brilliant but clueless men who came to Silicon Valley chasing their dreams of starting the next Google, she’d bet he had zero idea how to live life without a screen. This was certainly not the hero she’d been waiting for. She had yet to meet a guy in the industry who had a healthy work-life balance. They were all intensely competitive and driven to create the next great thing before the funding ran out. She’d promised herself a long time ago that she would never come in second place to a job ever again.

And yet when their eyes met, the tingles turned to chills, and they raced down her spine. The heat in his gaze and the frigid intensity on the rest of his face sent mixed signals, and her nerve endings tripped over themselves trying to respond to both at once. He was definitely her kind of cute, with his shaggy brown hair and scruffy stubble. She felt confused and off balance, a combination guaranteed to push Stella to retreat. Despite being attracted to him, she couldn’t afford to pursue him. The emotional capital needed to invest in a man who lived off coffee and code was too great to risk.

After striking out twice in one night, Stella was ready for the comfort of her cozy apartment. She deliberately broke eye contact and turned away from temptation. She texted Dex that she’d come down with a headache, which was no less than the truth, and headed for the exit. A glass of wine with her book boyfriend was looking better than any of her real-life options.

Bastian Pierce scanned the bar, looking for Steve in the crowd of bodies swaying to some ridiculously emo band, frustration riding high. His hopes for a quiet Friday evening to catch up on sleep had been dashed by a phone call from the Board, and here he was. His gaze snagged on a stunning redhead at the bar. Brushing her long coppery hair back over her shoulder bared by a slouchy top, she was an invitation. To what, he would never know. She gave him the once over with brilliant aquamarine eyes, and for a moment the air snapped and sizzled between them. But then she turned away, shaking her head.

Of course. She was waiting for someone else. No woman like that would ever look at him with that excitement or anticipation in her eyes. Women just didn’t do that over a guy like him. He pushed away the familiar disappointment of being judged and found wanting, and focused on his mission.

He spotted his former best friend at a table tucked into a corner with a bottle of vodka and three young lovelies curled up next to him. Bas stalked over and clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, forcing a fake smile for the benefit of the crowd. One never knew who was watching and listening. When their company had hit the unicorn list, he’d become a person of interest in Silicon Valley. When their social media documentary had gone viral, he’d been promoted to local celebrity. The last thing he needed was a public scene caught on camera. He’d worked too hard for positive publicity around their IPO.

Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a second?

Go ahead. Grab a seat. Steve smirked and draped his arm around the girl on his left, pulling her into his lap to free up a spot.

In private, please.

Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of my new friends.

No, actually I can’t unless you want to get in trouble with the SEC. Five minutes, Steve. Give me five goddamn minutes. It was the end of a hellish day. His anger and frustration seeped into his tone.

No, I don’t think I will. You see, Bas, I’m enjoying my evening. If I wanted to think about work, I’d have gone to the office. So, either spit out whatever you’re here to pester me about or leave. I can’t hear the band.

Fine. The Board gave you a no confidence vote. You’re fired. Enjoy the rest of your evening. Livid with the man he’d called a friend for most of his adult life, confused by his behavior, and utterly exhausted by his own demons, Bastian’s fabled control snapped, and he stormed out of the club.

Steve chased him down on the sidewalk outside.

What the hell are you talking about? You can’t fire me! I built that company!

Correction: WE built that company, and if you’d bothered to come by the office you’d have noticed that we are really fucking busy. You’ve been coasting ever since the IPO, six months ago. I’ve covered your shit as much as I can, but the board has noticed the gap. The first earnings report is about to hit and the ship needs to be tight. They are offering you a healthy severance package to go quietly, but bottom line, you’re out.

You can’t do this to me! Steve got up in his face, and Bastian was angry enough to stand his ground.

It’s out of my hands. If you’d come to even one of the meetings on your calendar this month, you’d have seen this coming. You really messed up this time. Now, I’m going home because I have to go back in to work tomorrow morning. My best friend bailed on me, and I’m working for two. Bastian shoved Steve back and stalked off, leaving his old friend stunned and alone in the middle of the sidewalk.

CHAPTER 2

Tuesday morning rolled around, and Stella showed up with her mats and gear miraculously on time. Stepping into the atrium of ABStech, she scanned for the security desk and felt the sun on her face. The brilliant blue California sky greeted her where there should have been ceiling. She recalled that the building design had won several awards for green design with its retractable roof and interior green spaces, when it had been completed the year prior.

Stepping over to the security desk, she pulled out her ID and passed it to the gentleman to be scanned. He handed her a temporary badge and asked her to have a seat in the glade of trees at the end of the room. She had little time to marvel as a bespectacled young woman in jeans and a tailored shirt beckoned her.

Hello! You must be Stella. At her nod, the woman continued. I’m Amanda Clearwater. I appreciate you coming on such short notice. When I went to Jamie for help, she immediately thought of you.

I’m happy to help. What are you concerned about?

My boss.

Well, I can help you relax, or find focus…

No, the session’s not for me. It’s for my boss. I can see Jamie didn’t explain. Would you like coffee? Tea?

No, thank you. What is it you’d like me to do for your boss? Stella asked skeptically. Her bullshit radar was on high alert. She was not getting the full story.

All above board, I promise! Stress relief and relaxation techniques. That’s all. That will be enough of a challenge.

Amanda led her into a semi-private office and motioned Stella to a couch. Before we go any farther, I need you to sign a freelance contract and a non-disclosure agreement. It basically says you won’t talk about anything you see or overhear while you’re here. As Stella signed the paperwork, Amanda went on to explain. My boss is Sebastian Pierce, Bastian for short…The B in ABS? Stella’s confusion must have shown clearly on her face. Oh, you’re perfect! He won’t intimidate you if you don’t know who he is!

Don’t send me in blind! What’s his deal? Why do you need me?

He’s the CEO and now the acting CFO of the company. We just had a successful IPO, and the world’s eye is on us. The stress has been monumental. One of the original founders flaked. The other buried her head in the sand, and Bastian’s been working night and day to cover the gaps. We had a health screening last week on campus, which I badgered him into attending, and his blood pressure was through the roof. It’s a symptom of a larger problem. I’m concerned. I’m hoping you can help him relax a bit, maybe teach him some guided meditation or short yoga routines I can pester him into doing between meetings?

How do you fit into this picture?

I’m his Girl Friday. I basically keep his life running, bills paid, laundry done, meals ordered, and meetings scheduled. Jamie helped me get the job, which is why I turned to her for a recommendation. While she spoke, she organized the contracts as Stella signed them and filed them immediately. The woman’s desk was immaculate.

Is he going to be on board with this?

If I tell him he needs to do it, he’ll at least give it a try.

OK. I’ll give it a shot. A paycheck was a paycheck whether the client took note of the lessons or not.

Great! Let’s go introduce you.

Stella followed Amanda into a spacious office that more closely resembled a man cave than a place of business. A Ping-Pong table stood where a conference table should have been, flanked by an ancient Space Invaders stand-alone and an Indiana Jones Pinball machine. Tucked into the corner was an ancient cable weight machine. On the other side of the office was what appeared to be a faux leather couch, or at least it had been before hundreds of bottoms had worn it down to the fabrics in places. Modern touches in the electronics and a state of the art coffee bar clashed with the retro garage vibe. One entire wall of the office was floor to ceiling white boards, covered in unintelligible scrawling notes. Smack in the middle was a large desk anchored with multiple computers and display screens as well as two keyboards.

Stella narrowed her eyes to focus on the man behind the desk, engrossed in his screens, and tried to figure out why he seemed so familiar. He certainly fit the mold of a tech genius. His dark floppy hair was two months late for a trim, and his scruffy chin suggested neglect, not fashion. Stella suppressed the urge to run her fingers through that hair to straighten it. Dark jeans, frame-free glasses, an old-school Zelda t-shirt, and Converse Chucks completed the look. He looked like every programmer she’d ever met. Except this one sat behind THE desk at a company worth billions.

Amanda cleared her throat, and he pulled his attention from his screens to the women in his office. Stella suppressed a shiver as his intense focus shifted to her. He took off his glasses and stared silently. He could likely see straight through to her soul, so intent was his gaze. It was a powerful feeling to be the focus of such attention.

What’s up, Amanda? I’m trying to get through these emails.

This is Stella.

Hi. What do you need?

No, it’s more what you need. She tried to project confidence in her abilities, even as she wondered if she’d be able to live up to her hype.

Amanda, what did you do? She’s not a… Bastian turned to his assistant, baffled. Amanda just grinned.

I’m a yoga instructor. I’ll be helping you relax today.

If you can pull that off, I’ll give you ten percent of my stock. Bas scoffed as he turned back to his screens.

Can I get that in writing? She was joking, but judging by the way his eyes cooled and shifted back to his computer screen, he didn’t find it funny. Well, this is going well… Stella kept her cool but held her ground in the face of his dismissal and refused to back down. He needed her help so badly that she couldn’t justify walking away from him just because he was being a jerk. Amanda stepped into the breach.

Now, Bas, give it a try. Remember what the doctor said?

He’d said I needed to find a release valve, before stress sends me to an early grave. But I don’t have time for this. I am swamped, and I have a lunch meeting with… He scanned his calendar.

With Stella. I set up the meeting on your calendar, so you do have time for this. Just give it a try, Bas. It couldn’t hurt. Well, at least not too much…

With that parting shot, Amanda left and shut the door behind her. Stella and Bas were alone together in his office, and Stella could feel the tension growing between them. Eager to prove to him that she could help, Stella began.

Listen, Mr. Pierce, I promise I won’t get into anything too crazy woo-woo, OK? Just a few simple stretches to do here in your office, and some guided meditation to help you shut it down for a bit each night. What have you got to lose?

The woman across from his desk was even more stunning up close. Tall and lithe, with her long, toned limbs on display in her sedate but skin tight yoga outfit, the woman from the bar last week stood confidently waiting for a response from him. Her red hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and the tendrils escaping around her face gave her a fragile air that contradicted her strength. Her long slender neck rose from the severe black running jacket she wore, which hid her physique from ready inspection. How would she taste if he placed his lips there? As the inappropriate images danced through his head, he searched her face for any hint of recognition.

Of course, she didn’t remember their brief eye contact across the bar. It was seared in his mind, but she was likely used to the stares of strangers. He tried not to be offended, but his inner fifteen-year-old felt the injustice keenly. For the first time in years, he’d felt a stirring of interest, and she hadn’t even noticed him. How much money would he be paying for her presence today? That felt crass, but true. Still, she was here and offering to help. Was he really going to turn down a chance to spend an hour with a beautiful woman?

What did he have to lose? An hour of functional work time? He could make that up later in the evening, since sleep had proven elusive for too many nights to count. His self-respect, when he revealed to her that he could barely touch his toes? She was a yoga goddess, strong and confident. How flexible was she? It would be worth the sacrifice of his dignity to find out. Inappropriate images of her flexing over him flashed through his mind, bringing another layer of heat to his reaction. His discomfort annoyed him, and it came through in his tone.

OK. Let’s get it over with. Amanda won’t leave me alone until I do. Where do we begin?

How about a little guided meditation to help you get your mind fully disengaged from whatever was making you frown when I walked in?

OK. He sat back in his desk chair and closed his eyes. His email chimed, and his eyes snapped back open of their own accord. Stella leaned over and silenced his computer with a tap of the mute key. Bastian inhaled deeply, as her scent surrounded him. The bright and rich fragrance filled his head, and shot desire straight to his lap. The urge to taste her flared again, along with his erection. He prayed she didn’t notice.

Oh no, uh-uh. There is no way you’ll get your mind off those screens if they are sitting right in front of you. Come sit on what used to be a couch. Get comfortable. She grabbed him by the wrists and tugged him up out of office chair. The feel of her hands on his bare skin, combined with her lingering perfume, overloaded his circuits. He followed without protest, careful to keep his condition concealed. Should he say something? Try to flirt? That always ended miserably, but he’d regret not trying at least a little.

Should I start with Ommm? He crisscrossed his legs and made circles with his fingers and thumbs jokingly.

No. Just sit normally and close your eyes.

Come sit with me. He patted the empty worn leather patch next to him.

It’s better if I stand. You’ll need the space.

Are you sure this isn’t a hands-on demonstration?

What you do with your hands to relax is none of my business. Damn it, she was laughing at him. He knew it wouldn’t work. Pushing aside his disappointment, he tuned back in to what she was saying.

Eventually, you’ll be leading yourself through this. For now, focus on my voice. Push all of the worries of the day from your mind. They will be taken care of in their own time. You will be better prepared to handle them later if you recharge yourself now.

Bas tried