Isabelle

By Anita Claire

Sometimes good things can come out of disasters
Isabelle is frustrated. All her friends are finding love while she's stuck living at home, has a lousy job, and is caught in a dysfunctional cycle with her on again off again ex-boyfriend.

Expanding her circle, she joins her new friends for a fun weekend in the mountains that turn into a disaster. Though sometimes good things come out of disasters and maybe Isabelle's fortunes are changing.

Brother's Jordan and Jake are up in the mountains to mountain bike and water ski. Helping out Isabelle turns into more of an adventure then they ever bargained for.

Of course Isabelle has her band of college friends supporting her the whole way; dubbed The Princesses from their freshman year Halloween costumes.

This is a stand-alone book, but much more fun if read along with the other Princess stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anita Claire
• Release date: Oct 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310154058

Anita Claire

Anita Claire is an author of contemporary romance novels. Her books explore women who hold non-traditional jobs and the situations they encounter. She writes about smart, hard-working women and the men they fall in love with.

Book preview

Chapter 1 – The Beatles

Isabelle: What are you up to?

Paul: Hanging

Isabelle: Coming over

Paul: K

Paul is renting a house with two other guys, George, and John. Everyone calls them the Beatles, even though they’ve yet to live with a Ringo or even a Richard.

I knock on the door.

Yo, Paul yells out.

George and John are nowhere around. Paul’s sitting at his desk playing some kind of game on his computer. I plop down on the futon next to him and look over his shoulder.

Isn’t that a game kids play?

All computer games are for kids, he dryly replies. Isabelle, what’s up?

What else? If I hang around the house, my mom drives me crazy.

Paul nods. He, too, has an overly critical Chinese mom and a mellow, white, Midwestern, engineer dad.

When I have kids, I’m not going to drive them crazy. My other friend’s moms don’t drive their adult children crazy. I don’t think my mom realizes that her constant criticism and haranguing is counterproductive. It doesn’t make me want to do anything other than get away from her.

There’s a reason I’m not living at home. My childhood bedroom is empty and the refrigerator is always full.

Yeah, but you have choices. All I can afford is to live with my parents. Do you know how depressing it is to wake up in your Pepto-Bismol pink bedroom and realize you’re twenty-four?

All I can say is figure out what you want to do with your life, then put together a plan and do it.

Yeah, if only it was that easy. If I change my name to Ringo, can I move in with you guys?

He stops what he’s doing and gives me a wry smile, which is totally alluring and reminds me why I’ve always fallen for him.

This place has three bedrooms. Do you want to move into my bedroom with me?

My heart skips…Damn…Why does he still do this to me?

I think we’ve already tried that multiple times, even friends with benefits doesn’t work for us.

Come-on Is, let’s do something.

What do you have in mind?

Do you have your board with you? I shake my head. He walks to the corner of the room and picks up two skateboards. Don’t complain about the board if you didn’t bring your own.

We head outside to warm up. Paul’s about five eight. He’s in good shape, not overly muscular, but definitely toned. He has a disheveled, scruffy look that really works for him. He also has thick, pouty lips and piercing eyes. It’s a look I’ve always found compelling. Paul is two years older than me and was friends with my middle brother. I had a crush on him all through high school. The summer before I started college, we wound up working at the same science camp. It didn’t take long before we were dating. At first, we were wonderful, but after we stopped working, we spent all our time together and quickly evolved into a constantly arguing couple. We have an uncanny ability to get under each other’s skin, while neither of us has a filter. We also have this bizarre chemistry, which draws us to each other, even when we know better.

Paul and I skate around his block and back to his house. I’m sure we both look ten years younger than we actually are. But it’s fun. Paul is trying to teach me some new tricks. I can do some of the easier ones. The guys have built a ramp that takes up most of their driveway. I have no problem dropping down the ramp and doing a ‘pop shuv-it’ to turn around. Now I’m learning how to do a Rock Fakie/ Rock ’n Roll. For this trick, you hang on for a bit when you get to the top of the ramp, and instead of sliding back down, you use your downhill foot to turn your board one-eighty degrees. I tend to fall off the board or chicken out when I need to make the one-eighty turn. Paul makes it look easy.

Is, you need more practice. Come on, I’ll hold onto you.

My heart flutters.

I glide up the ramp, Paul grabs my waist, giving me the security I need to put the pressure on the back of my board. I manage to do the maneuver.

Good work, Is, try it again. I do it again, successfully. One more time, this time, I’ll hold my hands out. I’ll only grab you if you need me.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and try the maneuver again. I land it perfectly.

Hey, I did it.

Good work, Is, I knew you could do it without help.

Too bad we’re not always this good around each other. If we could hold it together, he’d make the perfect boyfriend.

If only the rest of my life was this easy.

After a while, George pulls up. He and Paul were both computer science students at UC Davis. George waves to us before entering the house. A few minutes later, he comes back out dangling three beers from their plastic container. The three of us sit on the top of the ramp drinking our beers as we casually talk. As it starts to get dark, I head home.

Chapter 2 – Life

Hi, I’m home, I call out as I enter my house.

Isabelle, is that you? Mom responds.

Yeah, Mom, it’s me.

Who else would it be? I head directly to my Pepto-Bismol pink bedroom, which I find utterly depressing.

After college, I taught English in Shanghai, but the bad air and dodgy food got old fast. The best part of living there was the nightlife; it was amazing, especially since the clubs let the young western expats dance and drink for free. They think our presence adds to their club’s cache. Afterward, I spent eight months traveling around Southeast Asia, India, and Australia, sometimes meeting up with people and also traveling on my own. When my money ran out, I returned home. Now I’m back living with my parents as I try to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.

My parents told me I could live at home as long as I’m in grad school or working. Since it’s Silicon Valley, I got a job at an old school high-tech company managing their master schedule and keeping track of contracted features. My company doesn’t have any fancy coffee bars, a free cafeteria, or a high-end workout facility. I’m lucky the women’s bathroom has a handicapped stall, which is big enough for me to change my clothes in, before I head out for soccer.

As I lie on my bed, I look at the open LSAT book sitting on my desk. It’s even more depressing than the pink walls. Mom’s not happy about my lack of direction. To get her off my back, I told her I was thinking of law school. Mom immediately bought me the book. The thing is, the last place I want to go is law school. But now I’ve got her haranguing me to study.

Entering the kitchen, I look through the refrigerator. Mom races in and starts pulling out food. Mom, please stop helping. I’m getting a drink.

You need more than drink, look, you way too skinny. No man want skinny wife, she says in her heavily accented English.

Mom is impossible. She never gives me a compliment or says anything nice. She thinks it’s her job to criticize. With that said, I know she unconditionally loves me. I grab a glass and fill it with juice then head into the family room where my dad is reading.

He looks up over his glasses. Sweetheart, did you have a nice day?

Yeah, I was skateboarding with Paul.

Dad nods while Mom bustles in with a plate of food.

Paul, you still dating Paul?

No, we’re just friends.

Men and women can’t be friends like that. You need to either marry him or move on. I roll my eyes since my mom doesn’t get my generation. She places the plate of food in front of me. Eat, put meat on your bones.

I know most women would love to have my problem, which is being really thin. I’m five feet tall, and on a good day, I might weigh a hundred pounds. Unfortunately, I have the figure of a twelve-year-old. My best luck for finding clothes is at the teen shop. Luckily, jeans are what everyone wears to work. I don’t think they make many suits for women my size. Nordstrom’s is the only store that sells shoes small enough, so I’m relegated to buying from them or online. One benefit of living in China was there were lots of clothes for petite women. Of course, when I lived there I had no money to buy any.

***

On my way into work, I have to remind myself to keep my head down. My problem is I’m an extrovert living in an area that celebrates the introvert. Whenever I go to lunch with my co-workers, inevitably someone tells me I talk too much. Growing up with a Confucius mother, I learned to bite my tongue when those above me criticize. My response is always to give them an innocent sweet smile, even though my inner voice screams, Who made you the talk police? How many words am I allowed to say in a day? I might be chatty, but you’re judgmental. It’s not like I’m disturbing my co-workers while they’re working, we’re at lunch.

Five months ago when I first took this job, the company didn’t have a master product schedule or any feature coordination for their contracts. It took me three months to figure out what was needed. Diligently working through all the existing project schedules, I created a master spreadsheet, detailing it down to features and availability dates.

I’m now painstakingly going through all the contracts, outlining what features Sales has promised to which customers and then pointing the contract back to the date that feature will be ready. This spreadsheet has turned into a political nightmare. Engineering doesn’t want to be told what contracted features need to be in a release, while Sales doesn’t like any of the dates Engineering is giving them, and management is angry that we promised so much in our contracts.

I’m already anticipating a lot of fallout once this information is released. Ron, my boss, has created a toxic environment. He never has my back. I know when Engineering and Sales get mad; I’ll be the one that pays the price.

My goal is to avoid Ron, since whenever I meet with him he makes really condescending remarks, which usually take a good day or two to get out of my head. Whenever I speak up, he immediately shuts me down, then tells me I need to learn to speak up. One of his favorite games is at the end of the day to drop off reports that have been sitting on his desk for the last week, telling me he needs them completed for an early meeting the next morning.

***

On Friday my college roommate, Juliette, invites my close group of college friends to her apartment for a happy hour. Our freshman year of college we all dressed up for Halloween as Princesses, an experience that bonded us together. Juliette’s apartment is painted a wonderful shade of light gray, which gives me an idea. If I can’t figure out what I want to do with my life, at least I can paint my damn pink bedroom walls gray. Feeling invigorated, I vow to get up early, buy some paint, and start taking back my control.

At breakfast, as I gnaw on some toast, I announce to my parents my plan. Dad nods and gets up.

Let’s buy you some paint.

It takes dad and I a couple of hours to get my room prepped. Mom spends the entire time complaining that we don’t know what we’re doing and will make a big mess. By late afternoon, we’re done. I love the gray. I wish finding my life’s direction was this easy.

***

Paul: K-1, Friday 7

Isabelle: See you

K-1 Speedway is an indoor go-cart racing track. I convince my college friend Kelly to join me. The room is warehouse-size big, with a serpentine track outlined with plastic cubes. The guys are not here yet, so Kelly and I sit down at one of the café tables.

Are you back with Paul? she asks.

We’re hanging out—just friends.

Are you sure?

I’m not that stupid.

Then move on. Why are you hanging with him if it always turns into a disaster?

We’re not that bad together.

Isabelle, how many times have you done this? How many times have I listened to you cry?

I know. It’s just…we like doing the same things. And we always have so much fun together. This time, I’m not going to sleep with him.

Can you be friends without sex getting in the way?

I’ve seen you hang with guys you’ve hooked up with.

Yeah, but it’s never been more than sex. While you two have always been—

Complicated.

Exactly.

Paul shows up. I spot him before he spots me, it’s like I have this amazing Paul radar; I always know when he’s near. Damn, why does he have to look so good?

Kelly elbows me. Isabelle, this isn’t going to end well.

I smile and wave at Paul. Then look at Kelly, What? She shakes her head but doesn’t say anything.

Paul heads to us followed by John, George, and a couple guys I don’t know. After waiting our turn, we each get a go-cart. Kelly and I are both competitive, except she’s six feet tall and pure athletic muscle. It’s fun competing when Kelly’s size and strength aren't an advantage. With go-cart racing, skill plays a big part in how fast your times are, since putting your foot to the metal easily results in a wipeout.

Finally, we get the flag and we each takeoff. My goal is to beat Paul and Kelly. I’m willing to risk a wipeout if I can get a faster time than either of them. On our first run, I beat Kelly, only because her fear is low and so is her skill. She has a problem around a turn and pulls a 360 taking out a section of the plastic barrier. I get a perfect view of her wipeout. As I drive past her, I raise my right hand in a shaka sign. She lifts her hand and gives me a sign, but it’s not that one.

The first run, I tie Paul, which pisses him off and thrills me. Now I’m even more determined to beat him on our second run.

The second group of adults goes out as we wait around for our cars to recharge. Kelly is outgoing and fun to be with, easily fitting right in as she trash talks with the guys. Everyone’s ready for our second run since our egos are inflated and our first mug of beer is flowing through our veins. George cuts Paul off, which I use as an advantage to get ahead of both of them. Kelly almost takes us both out. John actually beats me on the last run. After my final lap, I wind up doing a 360 into the wall. I’m laughing so hard the attendant comes running over thinking I’m hurt. One of Paul’s friends from work has the slowest time. He’s buying the next pitcher.

Chapter 3 – Online Dating

After complaining about being single to my college friend Hita, we both decide to try online dating. With my parents out of town, Hita shows up at my house at noon. I grab a pad of paper.

Where do we start?

How about we write down what we want in a guy. No physical descriptions. It’s too easy to say you want a movie star. Hot guys don’t date online. They can find women all over the place,

I have no idea where to start, I tell Hita after spending too long staring at my white sheet of paper. This is harder than I thought.

How about I ask you some questions and you write down the answers, Hita suggests. What age range of guys are you interested in dating?

Age: 23 to 29.

What about education?

Graduated from college.

Religion?

Secular.

Really?

"My dad’s Quaker, my mom’s Chinese. My mom doesn’t understand the difference between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I don’t want