How did this get so complicated?
And how is it I’m so unmemorable to Miles?
After I get showered and dressed, a quick glance at the clock tells me I better hustle it up if I’m going to take Blackie for a quick walk and make it to the store by ten a.m. While I’m not the opener for the day, my boss, Luciana, is a stickler for punctuality.
When I get back from the walk, I eat a piece of my now cooled quiche and wrap the rest up for later. A few minutes of gathering my belongings before I run out the door to get to work, I remind myself I need to plan out how to introduce all of this to Miles.
And figure out whether he’ll be happy to find out who I am and how we’re connected.
5
Miles
I dragmy exhausted body out of the elevator and blindly make my way down the hallway toward my apartment door, wheeling my suitcase behind me as I go.
Traveling cross-country is never at the top of my favorite things to do list, but in this case, it was well worth the time and fatigue. A new client in San Francisco requested my presence at their quarterly board meeting, at which I outlined just how fantastic their portfolio was doing. I walked away from that meeting a very happy man.
Or at least as happy as I can be when I wake up every day with a sense of dread and deep regret following me around like a dark, ominous cloud.
But the trajectory of positivity I’d amassed from the meeting promptly ended there.
When I arrived at the airport for my return flight to New York, I learned it was delayed. Which then turned into canceled because of the severe summer weather across the Midwest. Fuck global warming.
My only option was to stay overnight at the airport Hilton. It wasn’t so bad at first. I had a place to stay and a decent dinner accompanied by a pint of Guinness, but then I was propositioned by a tranny prostitute named Stella in the lobby bar.
Which, hey, I hold nothing against anyone if you’re into that. To each their own. But things got really weird after politely turning Stella down. She kept grabbing for my hand and trying to get me to squeeze her breasts, suggesting how real they felt and all the amazing things she could do with them. And that’s when I called it a night.
My flight this morning was on time, and I spent most of the five-hour trip catching up on some work with my inflight WiFi. The minute I touched down at JFK, I cabbed it back to the office to make a staff meeting scheduled at four p.m., which because of Graham’s absence, I was in charge of running. I finished the night with a seven o’clock business dinner with Tommy, a client who likes to drink. And when he gets a good buzz on, he likes to sip old, expensive scotch and shoot the shit.
Our meeting ran well over five hours until I finally ordered him an Uber to take him home and cabbed it back home myself. All I want to do now is strip off this suit and tie, slip into some athletic shorts and have one more drink before hitting the hay.
A sticky note with a smiley face on the outside of my door draws me to a stop. With the keys in my grip, poised to unlock the door, I cock my head at the little yellow paper, tearing it off with more force than necessary and giving it a read.
Miles,
Hi! To say thank you for your help retrieving Blackie the other night, I made you a special dinner. Stop by anytime to retrieve it.
Sutton (the Morgan’s dog sitter)
I read it curiously, her unusual name niggling at something in the back of my mind. It’s different but also familiar somehow. Either way, it’s late, and I’ve already eaten tonight, so I crumple up the note, unlock my door, and then drop it in the wastebasket.
Suspicion trickles down my spine. Have I slept with this woman before? Maybe that’s why she seems familiar.
Based on my memory of her the other night, however, and the sexy body of hers in that tiny sleep set she wore, she seems far too young for the likes of me. I would put her around college age, maybe a smidgeon older, but definitely younger by at least five years. It’s probably a good guess that we didn’t attend college or business school together.
Perhaps she worked for Morgan Financial in the past as a student intern. Graham hires a gaggle of interns every year, providing them great opportunities to learn the investment business. He’d mentioned she’s our marketing manager, Ben’s cousin, so perhaps there’s a chance she’d been in the office, and I’ve passed her in the hallways.
Who knows? Regardless, I have no time or desire for her antics or niceties. If my suspicions are valid, she’s likely trying to butter me up and bribe me so I’ll keep my mouth shut and not mention the temporary misplacement of Blackie to Graham.
Honestly, ratting her out was the furthest thing from my mind since the night of the fire alarm, and now that I’ve had time to reflect, I don’t see a point in stirring up trouble. I’ll just keep a watch on things and keep an ear to the ground—or the wall—to make sure she’s not getting out of hand. If she throws even one party, I’ll be up in her ass so fast. . .
The thought about her ass and being up in it has my dick twitching at the prospect. Shit, I’m not only tired, but I need to get laid soon. I shouldn’t be thinking about the hot young dog sitter next door.
Tearing my clothes off and throwing them in the hamper, a whiff of my undershirt suggests I am badly in need of a shower. I take a quick one, ignoring my aching cock, before pulling on my light gray lounge pants, forgoing a shirt, to allow my body to cool down.
After my shower, I pour myself a scotch, neat, and plop down on my sofa with a sigh of contentment. Reaching for the remote next to me, I turn on the television and flip through a few stations until I come to the hockey game highlights.
Nice. I can catch up on the Rangers and then head to bed.
