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“I can’t believe you’re pushing forty.” She massaged her temples. “No, I didn’t wee in your shoes.”
“Why’re you looking all guilty then?” I patted my back dry, pondering what I should DoorDash tonight. Nothing in this place was edible. Other than my roommate.
Poppins finally noticed the fact I wore nothing but a towel to my waist and gulped audibly. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“I’m touched.” I bowed my head. “And you’re about to be touched, too, if you’re asking me what I think you’re asking me.”
“Please stop acting like a man whore.”
“Then please stop staring at me like I am one.”
She ducked her head, twiddling her thumbs.
“You know what?” She let out a nervous laugh. “Forget it.”
She grabbed her purse, shot up to her feet, and ran to the door. She made it halfway before swiveling back on her heel.
“Okay, fine! A bunch of former colleagues from WNT invited me over for goodbye drinks. I was wondering if you wanted to be my date. We could take a few pictures. Be seen in public. This could establish our ... eh ... relationship.”
My mental hard-on dropped to half mast. My crap-o-meter, however, was dinging so hard it was about to shoot out of the atmosphere.
They decided to be nice to her all of a sudden, for no apparent reason? Un-fucking-likely.
“Your date,” I repeated dully. I was still hoping there’d be nakedness involved when she asked for a favor.
“Fakedate,” she corrected with a prim nod.
This was a good time to remind her that these people had seen me with Gretchen and may have some questions, the primary one being—What the fuck?
No part of me wanted to tag along to this get-together, but an annoying (and unwelcome) sense of protectiveness tackled my conscience to the ground. I wasn’t prepared to send her to the lion’s den knowing she might get eaten whole. She could use a win. Especially as she seemed to be struggling with some confidence issues. Otherwise, she wouldn’t adopt a fake accent to go with her secondhand designer clothes.
“Fine.” I sighed. “But don’t forget to take pictures and file them. I’m not gonna suffer through these hipster assholes in vain.”
“Oh, Riggs, thank you!” She ran to me, but when she actually gottome, she stopped, her gaze colliding with my naked chest. Her cheeks reddened. She punched my bicep clumsily. “You’re ... uh ... the best.”
“But it’s gonna cost you.” I jabbed a finger in her direction.
She took a step back, her mouth pulling into a hard line. “If you think I’m going to hand out sexual favors every time you—”
“I’m not that desperate, and you’re not that hot.” I made a cross sign with my hands, lying blatantly. She was all seven deadly sins combined, once you fished her out of those Elizabeth Bennet dresses. “I mean you’ll literally have topay. I’m broke, remember?”
Her face relaxed. “Right. Yeah. I’ll buy you a pint or two, sure.”
“Food too.”
“Don’t push it, boy toy.”
Man, she was going to blow a gasket when she realized I was going to order appetizers too.
An hour later, we were at a swanky restaurant on the Upper East Side. Duffy introduced me to her former colleagues, Sadie, Warren, Dalton, and Amber. I immediately forgot who was who, refusing to waste any memory space on these professional pretenders. The men wore the uniform of smart pants and rolled-up dress shirts. The women looked like they were auditioning for a Netflix real estate show. A cross between the vulgarly rich and sex workers.
It was obvious from the get-go they just wanted to see where Duffy had landed, postmeltdown. They expected a broken mess a week after her train wreck departure.
Our table ordered appetizers and bottles of wine. Duffy sipped on a glass demurely.
“Thanks for including me,” she murmured into her wine. The only reason she came was to establish a history with me. I appreciated a good hustler when I met one.
“The pleasure is ours, girl.” One of the women threw her friend aWhen is she going to break down in tears?look. Her cleavage was so generous it made Bill Gates look like a cheapskate. “We were actually super impressed with how you handled Gretchen the other day.”
