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Desperate times call for desperate measures, and right now, Lottie might be my only hope.
The idea popped into my head with something Nathan said to me when shit hit the fan. How Coach Byrne suggested that he find himself a nice girl to keep him busy and out of trouble. Though his offhand suggestion might have been done with the best intentions, I saw the simple brilliance in it.
Nathan is being depicted as the poster boy for toxic masculinity on that awful website. I know for a fact that Nate is no Andrew Tate. I wouldn’t represent such a piece of trash if he were. Nathan might look intimidating and mean, but it’s all a front. For a man his size and build, he’s quite sensitive and, I suspect, lonely, too—just the attributes that my best friend with a bleeding heart and everyone-deserves-love attitude looks for in a client.
Again, I should feel somewhat guilty that I set up this lunch date with ulterior motives.
But I don’t.
I guess that says a lot about the kind of person that I am.
Not wanting to dig too deep into why that is, I focus on the mission at hand and pray that my best friend won’t turn me down.
After getting out of the taxi and strutting into Étoile d’Or, I can easily spot Lottie. Looking like a pin-up doll from one of those old 1950s posters, my best friend waves over at me, her bright smile successfully eliminating all the stress I’ve been burdened with for the past couple of days.
That’s the magic of Lottie—one smile and all is right in the world.
The minute I reach our table, she pulls me into a hug, uncaring who sees such displays of affection. I’ve never been much of a hugger. Except for my mom and… well… Lottie is the only other person I let put their arms around me like that. The only way I can stomach that type of intimacy is during sex. Outside of it… it just feels too real for comfort.
“I’m still pissed that I had to make an appointment with your assistant to see you for lunch,” I tell her, releasing her from the bear hug and taking a seat at our table.
“Is that your subtle way of saying you missed me?” She bats her eyelashes at me.
“You know I did. I always do,” I tell her in earnest.
“I missed you, too.”
My heart swells at the sincerity in her eyes.
That’s the other thing about my best friend—aside from my mother, she’s the only other person that I trust implicitly and love with all my heart. Lottie is good down to her very core. She sees the good in people that they don’t see in themselves. Maybe that’s why we’ve been friends since we were knee-high. She sees my goodness, even when I think I’m bankrupt.
“So, tell me everything,” Lottie asks after we’ve ordered our food. “Catch me up with what’s been going on with you,” she says enthusiastically. “How’s work? Any new clients? How are your parents? Any new man in your life?”
“I barely have time to breathe, let alone date.” I laugh, running the pad of my finger over the rim of my glass of water, envisioning the clear liquid polluted by dark obsidian oil.
“You would if you let me set you up with one of my clients,” Lottie is quick to counter while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at me.
“Nope, don’t even go there, Lottie. I’m far too busy to even get laid, much less find the one. The one can wait. I’ve got too much on my plate as it is. Just the thought of entering into a serious relationship right now would send me straight into an insane asylum. I’m crazy, but I’m notthatcrazy.” I feign a smirk, not wanting to tell her the real reason why I haven’t been able to get some in over a month.
It has nothing to do with my busy schedule but more to do with a certain dark-eyed general manager who has gone out of his way to put a stop to any hookups on the horizon.
I hate lying to Lottie, but she’s a romantic at heart.
She just wouldn’t understand.
Lottie wants everyone to have a shot at that fabricated fairytale life, with its white picket fences and two-point-five kids.
But that kind of life scares the shit out of me.
I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that horror show.
Or even want it, for that matter.
Thankfully, our conversation moves away from my love life—or rather lack thereof—to hers. It’s only when the topic of the Hozier concert comes up that I feel like the conversation somehow got reverted back to me without her even knowing it. I’m just glad that I can focus all my pent-up energy on my hatred for her boyfriend, Cooper, and how that rat bastard was the reason for Lottie ditching me that night. I purposely leave out the little detail of seeing our favorite singer perform backstage and then taking Trent Nichols home with me after to fuck his brains out.
Yeah.
Lottie would never let me leave this restaurant until I told her the whole shebang if she suspected such a thing to have happened.
