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“And Karen in payroll is engaged to a guy who used to be in porn.”
“Porn?”
“It was soft stuff. But if you want to see his dick, just Google John Summers.”
“It would be really weird to Google someone in the office’s fiancé to look at him naked.”
Lindsey crinkled up her nose. “It’s not circumcised. It’s really ugly. But it’s huge.” She held out her hands nearly twelve inches apart. “Like a baseball bat. Now every time I look at her, I can’t stop wondering how that thing fits. I mean, she’s so tiny.”
“You need to meet my friend Jules. It’s uncanny how much you remind me of her.”
Lindsey tossed back the rest of her martini and held the empty glass up for the bartender. “So tell me about you. Boyfriend¸ husband, sister-wife? What’s going on in your life?”
Answering should have been easier. “I’ve been on four dates with a guy who’s really sweet. We talk almost every day.”
“Really sweet, huh? Are you exclusive?”
Huh? Are we? “We haven’t really talked about it. But I haven’t been dating anyone else.”
The bartender came by with a shaker and refilled both our glasses. Lindsey eyed me over the top of hers as she sipped. “You’re not that into him.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You didn’t perk up when you talked about him, you described him as ‘sweet’, you aren’t sure if you’re exclusive, and it seems like thirty seconds ago was the first time you’d even considered the question. That means you don’t care if he isn’t.” She shrugged and said pointedly, “You’re not that into him.”
I exhaled a deep breath. “I think you’re right. He’s great—he really is. But there’s just something missing.”
“Can’t force it.”
She was right. Although the thought of breaking things off with a guy like Bryant—one who didn’t come along that often in New York City—was pretty depressing. I needed to think about something else.
“Tell me more gossip? What about Samantha?”
“She’s pretty much what you see. Been with the company about four years now, I think. Married, no kids that I’m aware of. She and Chase go way back. I heard a rumor that she was best friends with his girlfriend who died.”
“His girlfriend died?”
“Yep. Years ago. I think she was only twenty-one at the time.” Lindsey shook her head. “Tragic.”
“How did she die? Was she sick or something?”
“Some sort of an accident, I think. It was before I started. But I heard Chase was screwed up for a long time. It’s why he licensed all his products originally instead of distributing them himself. A lot of those licenses are expiring, and that’s why we’re marketing some of the products for the first time.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. He seems really good now, though. He’s usually in a good mood, anyway.” Lindsey grinned. “But I would be too if I got up every morning and looked at that face. The man is obscenely hot—if you’re into that sort of thing, that is.”
I laughed. “Not your type?”
“Apparently I like my men balding with a beer belly and propensity to be unemployed. I’ve been with Al since I was sixteen.”
“He’s gained some weight, huh?”
She snorted. “Actually, no. He’s pretty much always looked the same way. But the man thinks I walk on water for reasons I’ll never understand. Treats me like a princess.”
“Good for you.”
A couple of people from sales came into the bar and joined us, effectively ending my gossip session with Lindsey. After that, we mingled, and I got to meet a few new people. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d learned about Chase. He’d lost someone. Something like that had to have a big impact on your life, no matter how smart and well-adjusted you were.
Even if it didn’t break you, it left cracks and tiny fissures that could never be repaired.
Although the bar had grown busier by nine, the office crowd had begun to thin out. Lindsey went home, and there was only one other person from marketing left. It was time to call it a night. I attempted to get the bartender’s attention, but she was swamped down at the other end of the bar.
A man who’d clearly been overserved squeezed in next to me and tried to strike up a conversation while standing too close.
“Is that your real hair color?” he asked.
“Don’t you know you’re never supposed to ask a woman her age, weight, or if she dyes her hair?”
“Didn’t know that.” He swayed back and forth. “So asking for a phone number is okay?”
I attempted to be polite. “I suppose, if she isn’t married and seems interested.”
Feeling the need to escape, I tried again to get the bartender’s attention so I could close my tab. She held up her hand to let me know she’d seen me, but she was still busy making drinks at the other end of the bar. They really needed another bartender with this crowd.
