Four Player Ruse
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: When a fake blind date goes wrong, Sarah Walker, president of a major frozen food developer, finds her life inextricably entwined with Chuck Bartowski, one of her company's top food researchers. Contracts, bad behavior, idiocy, madcappery...and maybe even love follows. AU. Charah and Ellie/Devon.
A/N: I don't have a lot to say this morning, but I hope everyone's okay with a new fic. It'll be quite a few chapters, so strap in. And thanks for picking it up.
Disclaimer: I don't own the TV show Chuck or its characters.
"Pssst."
He sighed heavily and looked up from his cards, raising an eyebrow.
"I won."
He sighed again. "Oh, did you? Because you're supposed to put your cards down before you—shit, you won."
His best friend, the sun to his moon, the spine to his skeletal structure, his shoulder to cry on, and the biggest pain in his ass had slammed her cards down for him to see halfway through his sentence with a pleased, toothy grin, her green eyes sparkling.
He slapped his own cards down and groaned. "How are you so good at this all the time?"
"I'm an excellent businesswoman and you are a chemist chef. It's that simple."
This time Chuck Bartowski glared at Ellie and leaned in closer to her over the Bartowski living room's coffee table. "That smacked of snobbery."
Ellie winced. "Oof. You're right, it sort of did. I was trying to rub my win in your face and instead I sounded like a rich asshole."
"You kiiiiinda are a rich asshole."
"I'll kill you in your sleep."
"Try it. My mom will find you."
"And she'll bring me her famous hot cocoa."
"Shut uuup," he chuckled, rolling his eyes as she gathered up the cards and put them back in their box.
Just then Mary Bartowski wandered out of the kitchen. "You kids having fun?"
"I'm a grown twenty-eight year old woman," Ellie said with a clip to her tone, raising her eyebrows over bright green eyes that didn't match the eyes of anyone in the Bartowski family.
Because she wasn't a Bartowski, at least not by blood or by name. In every other way, they considered her part of their brood. But Eleanor Crawford was heiress to the Crawford Group, an extremely successful multibillion dollar beauty products corporation that operated all over the world now.
She was what Chuck liked to call an "untouchable". And yet, he'd never met anyone kinder. She'd also kicked his bullies' asses when they were kids which was awesome.
"Yeah, well sure. But I'm a very grown fifty-six year old woman and to me you two are kids." She swung the dish cloth over her shoulder and crossed her arms, watching them both climb up to their feet. "Don't you have some extra clothes in the guest bedroom you can wear when you're here, El?" Mary asked the young woman who'd become like a daughter to her over the last two decades. "You look uncomfortable in those work clothes, sitting on our rug playing cards with this bozo."
"Bozo?" Chuck asked with a gasp. "Mom!"
"You are a bozo," Ellie whispered, earning a glare. He guessed he sort of was. "But you're OUR bozo." That was true, too.
"It's okay, Mrs. B," the brunette said in a sing-song voice. "I have to get back home anyway. Joyce will bark at me like a rabid poodle if I don't show her the reports from yesterday's off-site before she starts her process to prep for her beauty rest," she said in a mocking voice.
Chuck's mom pointed at the younger woman with a not-too-severe chastising look on her face. "When you hit forty and over, there is a process. Don't knock your aunt for that because you'll regret it when you get so old your face starts to sag." She pinched her own cheeks in frustration.
"Sag where? You aren't sagging, sweetie."
Stephen Bartowski trotted in from the hallway, still pulling his jacket on. "Hey, sport. Maybe you can help me with the trash. We closed up a little later than we meant to because we let a party stay past closing, but they gave a great tip so… WORTH IT!" He gave two thumbs up.
Chuck met his dad's gesture with a similar one, grinning. "Hell yeah. Love that. Lemme just get my shoes, Pop."
He left Ellie and his mom in the living room and pushed into his bedroom at the end of the hallway, stepping into his sports sandals and shuffling through the living room towards the front door again, earning a chagrined look from Ellie.
"Socks and sandals? Chuck. I taught you better than this. We can't be seen in public together if you're gonna do this kind of thing."
"I'm taking the trash out. Shut. Up."
They stuck their tongues out at each other as he followed his dad out to the patio through the front door, down the staircase, and into the alleyway beside their family restaurant.
It was a pizzeria that just happened to make the best sizzling shrimp in Echo Park. Before Chuck was even born, his dad used all the money he'd saved up driving cabs in Los Angeles to open his own restaurant. His mom had put her own money into it from being a travel caregiver for the elderly, and the result was Echo Pizzeria.
Chuck was especially proud of the smaller sign he'd mounted when he was a teenager and sizzling shrimp was added to their menu after his dad went abroad to Hong Kong with old college friends. Now the sign above the restaurant door read ECHO PIZZERIA and a bit dangled off underneath that said (& Sizzling Shrimp!).
Chuck had a habit of telling their customers that the sizzling shrimp went perfectly on top of the cheese and pepperoni pizza, and more often than not, unless the customers were drunk and/or high college students, he received a grossed out look.
He helped gather up the trash from the trash bins, tied them, and wandered out Echo P's door and rounded the corner to their dumpster.
His dad was already there, hoisting a large bag of food trash into it. "So? How's the job goin', kiddo? Hm?" Stephen stopped and looked at his son who'd grown a few inches taller than him. "You're working too hard, son. I can see it in your face. Workin' yourself to the bone." He thumped a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed. "You won't be able to enjoy your later years if you work yourself too hard in your younger years."
Chuck snorted, tossing the heavy trash bags he'd carried out into the dumpster once his dad stepped back. "If I don't work myself hard in my younger years, I'll still be working through my later years." He hunched over then and pulled his lips back behind his teeth, affecting an elderly man voice: "You wanna see me makin' spicy orange chicken when I'm eighty-five years old, dad? Hmmm?"
Stephen laughed and pulled his son up to his full height. "I get your point."
"Don't think I don't love my job. It's why I work so hard." He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked shoulder to shoulder with his dad back around to the front of the restaurant, stepping back inside and shutting the door securely, the bell over the doorframe dinging. "It's rewarding."
"Yeah, I'd like to see you actually get a few rewards for being Ice Q Foods's best researcher, Charles. All your products you've concocted in that lab of yours—cheap, healthy, tasty—and they fly off the shelves. And still, only one bonus and you've been there for six years."
Chuck shrugged. "We've got a lot of employees. They can't just give bonuses out to whoever."
"You aren't whoever." His dad pointed at him, then he clapped him on the shoulder and popped the cash drawer open. "I'll finish up here. You see our Ellie girl out safe to her car, huh?"
"Okay. Sure you don't need help?"
"Nobody counts this drawer as well as I do!"
"Okay okay!" he chuckled, backing out of the restaurant. "I'll see ya upstairs."
Chuck met Ellie as she came down, stepping around to the front. "You sure you gotta go? I've got an extra beer and the weather is perfect for beer on the patio."
She made a quiet whining sound, bending her knees. "God, I want toooo. But if I don't go now, Joyce will be insufferable for a week. She is really good at making life miserable for me if she wants to." Chuck frowned. "Luckily for me, she mostly just ignores my existence. Which I prefer."
Chuck nodded and threw an arm over Ellie's shoulders, giving her a side hug as they strolled towards her extremely sleek BMW she parked on the street a few paces away from the restaurant. "Anytime you wanna get outta there and have some beers or get coffee…uh, when I'm not at work… you say the word. I got you, El."
"I know." She ruffled his hair. "But you know I don't want that tone of yours veering into pitysville."
"I didn't!" he said defensively, hopping away from her as they reached the car and holding his hands up by his shoulders.
"I know! I know you didn't. I still wanna warn you anyway."
"We're way past that, sis from another miss."
She giggled, tugged on his shirt cutely, and got into her car. But as he started back to his place, he heard her call his name out of the window. "Chuck, hey!"
He jogged back to the car as she rolled down the passenger window and he leaned with his elbows on the frame so that he could see her. "Yeah?"
"What are you up to after work tomorrow?"
"It's Friday, so obvi I'm going out with the boys and we're gonna get craaaaaa—Nothing. You know I'm doing nothing."
She snorted. "Well, wanna do something? Maybe, uhhh…you can meet Thomas."
His eyebrows shot into his curls practically. "T-Thomas? Hold on, who is that?"
She bit her lip. "Someone my auntie would probably be okay with me marrying but neither of us wants that sort of arrangement."
Chuck held out a hand. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa hold up. So what are you into? Wait don't tell me. I heard the answer in my quest—"
"Sex. Lots of it."
"Oh goddddddddddd whyyyyyy?"
"Don't be a ten year old. You wish you were getting the tail I'm getting."
"The tail you're getting? They probably all have penises so I'll pass, thanks."
"Ew! Who's gross now?!"
"Why do you want me to meet the guy you're boinking?"
"Boinking?"
"Yeah, boinking. I need to use a gross immature term to blot out the horrible imagery. Why do I gotta meet him?"
"He wants to meet you." She shrugged.
"Some rich guy—'cause clearly he's rich if Joyce would approve—wants to meet your best friend slash almost like a brother? What for? That's suspicious."
"It is not. Just say yes."
"Yes. Fine. But if it gets weird, I'm out. Even if it's rude."
"He isn't weird. He's hot and rich."
"I bet he is weird 'cause he's hot and rich."
"Shut the hell up and go inside."
"There's gotta be somethin' wrong with him, that's all I'm saying."
"I'll strangle you in your sleep."
"Huh? Wah? You say this to the man who is wasting prime gaming time on a Friday night by meeting your booty-call bud? Fix your tone, young lady."
"Step away from the car if you don't wanna be run over."
He jumped back quickly and she tore off. After all these years, he knew better than to not take her seriously.
}o{
She heard his scurrying step behind her as she made her way from the elevator towards her personal office. She recognized it well, and she ought to, considering she'd been hearing it behind her for most of her life.
"Don't tell me," she said before he could get a word in edge-wise. "I've pissed my father off somehow and now he wants to see me. Was it the green lighting of the jade nuggets? They're green because they're made out of the healthiest green veggies, but they taste freaking amazing."
Sarah Walker spun on her heel to face the man who some days felt like he towered over her. Always freakishly tall, and always like an Adonis. They made the perfect pair walking around through life, even on the playground as kids. Blond hair, blue eyes, statuesque, though he definitely grew into things a lot more gracefully than she had. She'd been gawky, gangly, with braces and messy hair through middle school and part of high school. He'd always been the hot one, the popular football jock who was also actually nice to people and not a bullying asshole. And because everyone knew whose family he was connected to even if it wasn't by blood, Devon Woodcomb was not fucked with. Ever.
And neither was Sarah Walker even though she knew she made a prime target back then. Her confidence was low, and yet, her Devon would be right there at her elbow walking with her to lunch, walking out to the car with her after school.
She got her license before he did, and she knew it was because he liked the Walker mechanism taking care of him, the drivers picking him up, driving him around, having to go to the Walker estate to do his homework instead of back to some unfamiliar place. He liked having his food provided for him. He liked the maid Paula handing him nutritional lunches made from Ice Q Foods best products sometimes, and sometimes sandwiches she made by hand. He liked being pampered, he liked being cared for.
And Sarah?
She was constantly trying to break free from it. The Walker legacy. The Walker family name. The Walker this and that. She enjoyed living a life of money and luxury, that wasn't the problem. But it was everything else. The expectation that she be the model daughter, the model heir, do everything at Ice Q Foods the way her father would do it. He wanted a clone that would take over the corporation. But while she believed in Ice Q and their vision, while she believed in the lives their food products might improve and make easier, she wanted to do things her own way.
Otherwise, she'd gone to Harvard for what, exactly? Instead, she could have just stayed home from university, stared at her dad moving through life, taken notes, studied everything, and then emulate it to a tee.
She had her own ideas, her own goals and dreams for what Ice Q Foods could be, what it could accomplish. And her dad still hadn't approved her plans for using the Ice Q model to go out into the LA community to tackle food deserts in the greater Los Angeles area. Of which there were so many, too many.
"It's not that, Sarah."
"Then it's the urban garden proposal, isn't it? There are all these schools in the center of the city and they have the proper facilities and enough space to put gardens in. The kids will do the work themselves; it's exciting for them. And then when the vegetables start growing, they can pick them and take it home to their families. That's fresh produce their parents can't get with food stamps and—"
"You're preaching to the choir, Sar," Devon said, giving her a look.
"Sorry. I know. Why is he so against my community impact ideas?"
He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, and then he looked back down at her again and fixed the glasses he wore on his nose. "It's like he said last week during that extremely tense and uncomfortable meeting: right now we have to focus on profits. Those community impact initiatives won't provide profit."
"It was uncomfortable for you, but I rather enjoyed it," she said with a honey-dripped smile.
Devon gave off one of his sighs that she was well-used to by now. His I'm Tired of This Girl's Shit sighs. She liked that sigh. It meant she was on the right track and he knew it but he was still towing her dad's company line.
"He didn't tell me why he wants to see you, but he didn't seem upset. Maybe it's a good thing." Her admin assistant, right-hand-man, and best friend in the world shrugged his shoulders, then tucked the clipboard he carried under his arm. "Give him a chance. Maybe he'll surprise you."
"Uh huh. We'll see." She puffed out her cheeks with air, blew a raspberry, and rolled her eyes. "Where is he, at the estate?"
"Yup."
"Figures. I have a busy day here at HQ and he makes me drive all the way back."
"I can drive!"
"I know you know how to drive, Devon. You've been driving me most of our adult lives," she said, smirking at him as they walked into her office where she grabbed her bag and jacket. She shrugged it on and they rushed back out again, heading for the elevators.
"Only fair. You drove me through high school."
"Uh huh. That's because I got my license the second I was legally able to. Freedom!" she hissed, stepping into the elevator. He hopped on after her and pressed the button for the garage.
The only question was, how long would she be allowed the scant bits of freedom she had now? She didn't have the foresight to wonder.
Because half an hour later, she was sitting across from her dad with a lunch platter on the table between them, the grandiose mahogany wood surrounding them in the Walker dining room. And he had really just said that.
"…I'm sorry?"
She felt Devon go rigid at the table as well.
"I've set up prospective suitors for you. Blind dates, isn't that what you kids call it these days? We need to get you taken care of, darlin'. You're pushing thirty now."
"I'm twenty-eight," was all she could get out, her heart racing, brain running a mile a minute. Blind dates?!
"Right. Pushing thirty. You need a husband now, someone who is dependable, from good stock, someone I can trust to run Ice Q Foods when I'm too old to do it."
"That's me, Dad. I'm the president of the company. You just promoted me after Vince Platt was sacked."
"He wasn't sacked."
"Oh he wasn't?" she challenged, leaning forward. She had been hungry, but now the food on her plate was going untouched. "We caught him embezzling company funds into land deals. He was trying to put golf resorts where our Ice Q farms are, Dad!"
"I-I know that. That's why he isn't here anymore and you're the president. Don't I take care of you?"
She hated that he put it like that. "I earned the presidency. I was put in that position because I'm more than capable of being there and doing that work. You are taking care of me, yeah, but I'm running this ship now and I'm doing great things."
"Are you focusing on profit?" Begrudgingly, she nodded. "Good girl. But look, I don't want you to have to do all this alone, darlin'. There are so many great guys out there and I've found a good list of them. Great, great guys. From wealthy families. Handsome. Strapping guys. Some of them are old money, too." He let out a whistle. "That ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon."
Sarah frowned hard, looking down at her plate. "I'm not going on blind dates. I am perfectly fine running the company. I've got Devon—M-Mr. Woodcomb. Right?" She reached over and thumped Devon on the bicep. "I've got him. Together, we'll make this place a profit guzzler. I don't need some other guy. And anyway, I can find my own dates."
"Then why haven't you?"
"I…have," she tried. "It's maybe been a bit, but that's just because the last one…"
"The last one was a giant douche," Devon mumbled glumly. She sent him a look. "Am I wrong?"
"Nope. He ain't wrong," Jack Walker said, wincing as his daughter sent him a glare. "Don't look at me like that. He was a cheating bastard. And with a model too. It was all over the internet gossip. Our own employees were talking about it and sharing it in their chatrooms!"
"Thanks for the reminder. That was what I needed to go back to today. How fucked up all that was."
"Hey. Language. Especially at the table. C'mon, Sarah."
She sent her dad her best "as if" look. Language? Really? She sighed. "Fine. Sorry. It was screwed up. And mortifying."
"He broke your heart," Devon said, a dark look on his face, with a tinge of sadness. "I had to sit there with you while you sobbed and hiccuped for days. Handing you hankies."
"Hankies? Are you a ninety year old woman now?"
He curled his lip at her and sat back against his chair.
"If that's the kind of guy you're picking out for yourself, darlin', I'm afraid it's time I do it for you. I picked out your mom and…" A tense silence settled over the table. A tense silence with so much—too much—packed into it. She heard her dad swallow hard.
"You can't say no." His voice was harder now. She heard it. And she knew all too well why the atmosphere had changed. "I have a date set up for tomorrow night. He's from a wealthy family, they have land in the midwest. Even ties with banking. I saw a picture of him when I googled too. Very dapper lookin' kid. You're gonna hit it off, I know it."
"I'm not doing it."
"Name is Thomas Baxter. From the Baxter Corp."
"Baxter? He sounds like a Bond villain, Dad."
"I said you're going!"
His voice echoed harshly in the silence of the dining room. She tightened her grip on the fork she still held but wasn't using. And she slowly raised her blue eyes to his.
At the end of the day, he was the chairman of Ice Q Foods. Few things happened if he didn't approve them. And it seemed it wasn't just that way at the company but in her personal affairs as well. She would never escape his hovering demands. She would never escape his deep-seated bitterness.
And for a moment, she felt as powerless as she'd ever felt, being a part of this family.
"What time do I have to be there?"
She would do it, suffer through it, and then she'd leave again and never contact the guy. It was that simple. Sure, there'd be others apparently. A whole list of them. She'd keep suffering through, reject them, and move on. That was going to be her new lot in life.
Unless she thought of something better. But what?
"Good girl." Oh, that grated hard. She clenched her jaw and shut her eyes to keep from lashing out. Yelling at him would only make her situation worse. "Tomorrow night at seven-thirty at the Barnard Steakhouse. I'll text you the address."
"I know where it is."
"Devon over here can drive y—"
"I'd like to go alone. I'm already having to go on this company enforced blind date, I'd like to at least drive myself and not feel like a company man is taking me there."
She didn't mean to take it out on her friend, but he didn't seem to take it too harshly, still sitting there numbly with his lips pressed together in a pruny pout. He was embarrassed, she knew. And somehow, these fights with her dad were easier when Devon was there. As embarrassing as it was. Because he'd understand later. And he was good at making things seem less…burdensome. He was good at not making her feel quite so alone.
"Thanks for lunch. I have to head back to the office. Lots of work."
She pushed up from the table.
"Oh come onnnn. Finish your food."
"I'm all right. I'll see you later, Dad."
"Don't walk away from the table all angry, kiddo. C'mon. I'm just looking out for you."
He was looking out for Ice Q Foods. She was a tool. A tool to bring in more money. A tool to bring in a son. Because a daughter didn't count as a son, and in spite of how close Jack and Devon had become over the years, he wasn't a son by blood either.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'll give you an update on that new tamale recipe from our Group 4 researchers later. They're turning it in this afternoon. I'm doing a tasting later."
"Good, good. Okay."
With one last tense nod at her father, she left.
Devon didn't follow. She knew he would hang back to be a bouncing board for her dad. To ease his mind when he gave him the "Now what did I do wrong? Is it so bad for a father to want his daughter to be happy?" spiel.
It was okay. Devon was really good at being that for both her and for her dad. He was the bridge between them when things got too tense and they couldn't see eye to eye.
And when tomorrow's blind date went terribly, Devon would have to work his Bridge Magic again because her dad would be pissed at her…again.
}o{
"No."
"Why?!"
Chuck gaped at Ellie first, and then he turned it on the admittedly attractive man sitting beside her. All wrapped up in a very chic suit, top two buttons not done and everything. Sexy bastard.
But he needed to stay on task because he needed to really emphasize just how emphatic his no was. "Let me be clear, this is an emphatic no," he said clearly.
Thomas Butler, was it? Batter? Booger? Braxton? It was Braxton wasn't it? Whatever his name was, he leaned in over the coffee shop table and gave the younger man a winning smile. "Listen, sport…"
"Sport?"
He sent Ellie his best Really? look and she winced. Honestly, he understood her jumping into bed with him for fun even if he seemed like a punk considering how attractive he was. But SPORT?
The heir continued as if Chuck hadn't spoken.
"This is just a one-time thing, ok? It'll be super quick and painless."
"How is ruining a blind date painless for anyone involved? I ask you." He slurped his frap loudly and thunked it down hard so that a speck of creamy whip landed on his finger. He licked it off.
"It's painless because it's fast! You just have to make her think I'm nuts, she'll run out of the restaurant like a bat outta hell, you come home again. Voila. Done." He shrugged as if this was a totally normal thing for him to ask a stranger to do.
He turned on Ellie. "You're going along with this? Seriously, El? It's kinda fucked up. Like, that poor girl. What if she's really excited about this blind date and then I show up, scare her shitless, and she goes home to cry or something? I don't wanna do that to somebody."
"Duuuude. That isn't gonna happen. This chick is a known ice queen, okay? Everyone in my circle has talked about it. She's frigid. She's not gonna wanna go on this date either. If anything, you're doing her a favor."
"Why don't you just go, act like a nut, be quick about it since you're insisting it'll be so quick, and take care of this problem yourself?" Chuck asked, slurping his drink again.
Ellie wrinkled her nose and spoke up this time. "Um…?"
"She doesn't want me to." Thomas shrugged, flicking his thumb in Ellie's direction. She shrugged too. Chuck sent them both a what the fuck look. "I've done it before, and that's how I know it'll work, kid." Kid now? Jesus Christ, this guy… "I went on a date, acted like a real psycho, and she was outta there in a flash, fifteen minutes tops. It was great. But this girl over here refuses to let me even go on a blind date I intend to ruin. Guess she's kinda possessive. Heh." He nudged the woman beside him with his elbow and they exchanged a grin Chuck didn't like all that much.
He wasn't going to tell his grown friend what to do with her life but he didn't like this guy at all, even if it was merely a fun physical thing.
Making a face, he shook his head. "I still say poor her. It's mean."
"Nothing about this girl is poor. She's one of the richest people in all of California, the whole country even. I mean, she's really big time. Okay? She'll be just fine."
"Money or not, it's mean to do this to somebody."
Ellie sighed. "Yes, in a way, it is." She hung her head with a groan and reached out to tap Chuck's hand. "Can we step out real quick so we can talk, Chuck?" she asked then, looking up into his eyes pleadingly.
"No need. I will step out for some fresh air. Just text me when you're ready for me to come back," Thomas said. He leaned in and kissed the corner of Ellie's mouth with a smack. She let out a quiet giggle as he left them alone, stepping outside with his hot latte in hand.
Ellie leaned in the moment the door shut behind him, fixing Chuck with a pleading stare. "Listen. Chuck. I know this is testing your moral compass. Mine too. But… Crap, look. Thomas and I started dating and it's been super fun. He's really good at it."
"Good at what? Wait, never m—"
"Sex. Obvi."
"Nooooo," he groaned. He'd figured it out too late. Damn it.
"But also dating," she said nonchalantly. "Only thing is, he's got…some shortcomings. Flaws. He's not the type of guy you put a ring on, see? But I like him. I like hanging out with him. And…ya know, doing stuff."
"No thanks."
"Well, yes, you say that because you're in a super dry spell…"
"Wow. Wooooow. That was so unnecessary. And how do you even know that?"
"You live in the same house as your parents and also it's very easy to tell when you've gotten laid. You act a certain way," she said matter-of-factly. "I haven't seen that Chuck in a loooonnngggg time."
"Okay enough. Thanks. You want me to do a favor for you? Really? You're doing a great job of convincing me, Ellie." He clicked his teeth, then sipped more of his frap.
"Shit. Okay. Sorry. Listen. Thomas's mom is that type of mom who thinks it's her job to control every single thing in her son's life. This time, it's trying to get him married. For now, though, he needs to at least be trying to see women."
"So what's the big deal? You two are dating, aren't you? He can just introduce you to her and bam, blind date's canceled."
Ellie distractedly swirled her iced vanilla bean latte, the cubes dancing in the murky tan liquid inside the cup. "No can do. Turns out Mrs. Baxter is set on this particular connection with this particular woman. Apparently she really is super rich and it'd be perfect merging for the two powerful families."
"Is this the eighteen-hundreds?"
"Right?" Ellie droned.
"Why are rich people so weird?" He winced. "Present company excluded. You're super cool for a richie."
"Shut up."
"Sorry." He lowered his gaze to the table in shame.
"Bottom line, he can't introduce me. She'd insist on him going on this date anyway. I think he's kind of ridiculous for not standing up to his mom but I guess it's hard to do when you've been under her thumb your whole life." She puffed air through her lips, which teased her fringe around her forehead. "But he's hot and we're sort of dating and I don't want him going on this date, Chuck." She pouted, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "Please?"
"This is so unfair to this girl, Ellie."
"Maybe not. Maybe we're doing her a favor too?"
"We might not be."
"Chuck, please?"
"I'm not doing it." He shook his head.
Thomas rushed to the table and sat down in his seat next to Ellie's again, surprising them both. "Sorry. I didn't get a text yet. But my mom called and I need to rush back to Baxter Pad to change for an impromptu meeting at the office. So what's the decision? You gonna help a fellow guy out, Chuck? Bro code?"
Chuck sighed. "That isn't how the bro code works."
"Yes it is!"
"I can't do it, though, man. I'm sorry."
Thomas didn't seem all that put-out for someone who'd just been refused. And maybe that was because he had more cards in hand than Chuck had expected. "I hear this chick's really mean, Chuck. I know you're trying to do right by her, but if she's as mean as I hear she is, who cares if she has to go on one crappy quick date?"
"No. Sorry, I don't care if she's a freaking succubus, she doesn't deserve to get bamboozled like this."
Thomas gasped. "Great word usage. Bamboozled. I like that."
Ellie slammed her hand onto the table between them, palm down, and the sound echoed through the shop, making people glance in their direction before going back to their conversations and laptops. Chuck blinked at her. Thomas blinked at her.
She leaned in close to Chuck over the table, her green eyes blazing, jaw clenched. "I will pull some strings and get you a VX24 game console thingy."
He gaped. "…Ellie, people can't get those right now. They didn't make enough for the demand and they're harder to get than Comic-Con tickets." He made a whining sound. "And people keep posting gameplay videos from the exclusive games and I hate theeem so muuuuuuch."
"I can get one. I'll get one for you."
"…You're serious."
"Yes." She took out her phone and wiggled it. "You pretend to be Thomas Baxter on one—one—blind date, scare her off, and all you have to do is wait for that VX24 to show up at your door."
"You're really serious."
"Yes."
"You're sure you can get it?"
"Positive."
Well, shit. He'd been trying to get one of those for months now, hanging around on sketchy websites trying to get codes, sitting on the main website and watching that wheel of death go for an hour before a notice would pop up on the screen telling him they'd all been sold out.
Nobody he knew had managed to get lucky enough to score a VX24 and nobody he knew would score one anytime soon… but if he did this one…quick…and maybe even mean thing to help out his best friend in the whole world, his luck could change.
He knew Ellie meant what she said. And when she said she could get something, she damn well could. Crawford Group was massive and when his friend whipped out that credit card Joyce provided her with, the sky was the limit.
"Deal."
He stuck his hand out and Thomas grabbed it enthusiastically. "Boy, you are a gem, Chuck! A gem! I'll give Ellie the details! Thanks, kid! Sport, you're just the greatest!" With a "bye babe", ignoring Chuck's flat look to ruffle his curls, Thomas Baxter kissed his…girlfriend? Chuck really didn't know…and sped out of the coffee shop like the roadrunner from the cartoon, legs whirling like propellors and everything.
"You won't regret this, Chuck. I swear you won't!" Ellie said, grabbing his hand in both of hers and beaming at him happily.
Yeah.
He was sure he wouldn't.
}o{
Chuck Bartowski wouldn't say he particularly enjoyed shopping trips with Eleanor Crawford. He tolerated them at best?
And yet, he'd found himself wasting too much of his day off from work at a high-end LA shopping center, being shoved into outfit after outfit after outfit. "This makes me look like a pimp." And then there was "Now I look like someone who'd sign their dog up for puppy pilates." There was one that was "Am I a rich playboy or am I Elton John's closeted lover?" And his favorite: "This is giving 'don't date me because I'm beautiful'"… that had been a black on black on black suit. Which Ellie had settled on at first.
But finally, she decided he needed to wear black and white pinstripes. With a bright fuchsia silk shirt under it.
And now he was wearing it, staring at himself in the rearview mirror, wondering if he should even get out of the damn car.
It was nearing seven-thirty now. And he decided being ten minutes late would be the perfect, rude way to start things off. It would immediately piss her off.
Showing up in this insane get-up would be the next red flag. And he'd pelt her with more red flags until she grabbed her bag and coat and booked it out of Barnard Steakhouse in the lobby of Barnard Suites Hotel in downtown LA.
He took some deep breaths, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he sat in the car in the dark. What in the hell was he doing here? And he'd even let Ellie make his hair into a curly sort of faux hawk with a shit ton of product.
He looked nuts.
But he really wanted that VX24 and he also wanted to help Ellie. He couldn't deny it was hard to refuse his best friend when she did that green-eyed pout thing. He'd always been a sucker for it.
And the Thomas guy didn't seem that bad. At least Ellie was clear-eyed about it not leading to anything serious.
So why in the hell was he doing this again?
"VX24," he muttered to himself, getting out of his car. "VX24…VX24…" He repeated it like a mantra under his breath as he walked down the sidewalk, peering up at the sign over the hotel door and walking through into a massive, grandiose lobby. He glanced around and noticed the opening into a restaurant off to the left, and he hurried over, glancing at his watch.
It was only seven-thirty-five which was late enough he guessed. He couldn't keep sitting in his car stressing out about it.
The host led him to a small table with a comfortable chair and had him sit. Which meant his date wasn't even there yet. So his big plan to start things off being rude immediately fizzled.
Had she had the same plan? Only she'd executed it much better?
That'd be a big break, because it'd mean she didn't want to be here either and this might go pretty fast.
He waited another five minutes, fidgeting in his chair, wondering just how late this lady was planning on being, when he heard behind him, "…Thomas? Was it, uh…Baxter?"
So she struggled to remember that dumb name too.
He inwardly snorted and turned to look up over his shoulder at her as she approached the table.
And he nearly fell out of his damn chair.
Standing over him was a woman built like a goddess divine. Her face captured him immediately, her eyes bluer than the bluest of blues, her full lips quirked in question, one perfect eyebrow cocked. The beauty of her face was framed by blond hair that shone in the restaurant's romantic dim lighting, like a beacon, styled down and free, in waves that reminded him of Jessica Rabbit almost.
He couldn't breathe.
And then he remembered to breathe and he even burst to his feet in front of her, tugging at his pinstripe suit jacket in embarrassment. "H-Hi. Hi, yes. That's me. Yes. I'm-I'm…Thomas." Ba-Ba-Shit, what was it again? "Baxter. Yeah. Thomas Baxter."
She smiled up at him and he realized he'd never met a taller woman in his life. And the incredible heels she wore made her taller, just as the tight-fitting black pants she wore made her legs seem so much longer.
No one had any business being this jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Least of all this woman he was on a fake blind date with.
And shit, he had to ruin this and he had to make it quick. He couldn't get caught up in her beauty. He couldn't. He'd like to sit and admire it a little longer but he needed to be rude right off the bat. Off-puttingly rude.
So he gestured to the chair on the other side of the table. "Sit."
"Sure, yeah." She widened her eyes a bit and went over to the other chair.
He felt awful not rushing over to pull it out for her like a gentleman. He'd done it in dates before because he was raised right. But Thomas Baxter needed to be an ass. Or this wouldn't go the way it needed to go for him to get that VX24.
As she sat, she smiled across the small table at him. "So—"
"Want my card?" He grabbed a business card Ellie had given him, one of Thomas Baxter's. "There ya go." He thrusted it across the table. "So you can double check my credentials as a proper match. That's real. Baxter Corp. Thomas Baxter. I have a lot of power and my family is uber rich."
She seemed slightly taken aback, but she played it off by picking up her clutch from where she draped the long strap over the back of her chair, producing a card of her own. "There. Sarah Walker. Go ahead and check my credentials."
He grinned and took the card, wondering why that was a familiar name. "Sarah Walker," he muttered, looking down at the card. "Sarah Walker, President" it read, with her contact information underneath. He turned over the card to look at the back and he almost died.
Right there on the spot.
His heart seized.
Ice Q Foods
With the logo and everything.
"S-Sarah…Walker," he mumbled numbly. Shit. Oh shit. Shit fuck shit fuck shit.
She was the president of the company he worked at.
Ice Q Foods president Sarah Walker! Daughter of Jack Walker who was the chairman, the CEO, the man who'd started it all with his own father.
"…Uh…Mr. Baxter? Thomas? Everything okay?"
"Yes!" he blurted. "Tha-Thanks. For this." He cleared his throat, lifting her business card, taking her in again, wondering how in the fucking hell he got himself into this mess, wondering how she was sitting here out of all of the women in the world Ellie's stupid rich booty call boyfriend could've been set up with on a blind date.
Fuck my life.
He put the business card in the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He needed to talk to Ellie immediately. Im-fucking-mediately.
"I need to use the restroom real quick," he rushed out, pushing to his feet. "Uh, w-wait for me? For a sec? I'll—I'll be back. Yeah."
"Sure."
She watched with wide eyes as he staggered off, asking a waiter where the bathroom was, nearly crashing into another one as he sprinted to the bathroom. He pushed inside, not even caring if it was empty or not, scrambling to get his phone out of his pocket and speed dialing Ellie Crawford.
"Answer. Answer answer answer. Fucking hell. Oh my God. This is the worst possible—Ellie, pick up!" he barked at the phone, pulling it away from his ear.
She didn't answer.
He hung up and put it back in his pocket.
"Oh you've really done it, Ellie Crawford. You've ruined me. I'm ruined. I'm gonna lose my job." He turned to look at himself in the mirror. "You're gonna die dressed like this. And with a curly faux hawk. God damn it." Something occurred to him then. "Ha. Wait. There's gotta be a back exit. I'll run. I'll just run. Nobody will know. She didn't get a good look at me anyway. Yeah. I'm running. Fuck the VX24."
He whined, turned on his heel, and walked out of the bathroom.
Determined to get himself out of this mess.
And determined to make both Ellie Crawford and Thomas Baxter suffer for what they had done to him.
A/N: Our nerd is in some deep shit. Thanks for reading. More soon.
-SC