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And I’ve never been more determined to make a woman say yes to me in my entire fucking life.
***
“You’re still sitting here?” Georgina says, sidling up to me.
“I’m still sitting here,” I reply. I toss two hundred bucks onto the bar in front of her, right next to the two untouched drinks I ordered for Josh and Henn mere minutes ago. “Let’s make it three martinis this time, Georgina. All of them made extra slowly. Keep the change, like before, as long as you take your sweet time making my order.”
“You got it.” She scoops up the cash, thanks me, and gets to work.
“Can I ask a stupid question?” she asks. “Are you famous? I can’t tell. You were the biggest star on the panel. And you’re all over the internet, hanging out with rock stars and celebrities. In some photos, you’ve even got a bodyguard or two. And yet, here you are, at Bernie’s Place on a Thursday night, with no bodyguards, acting like a regular dude. Well, a very well-dressed regular dude with an extremely nice watch.”
I take a sip of the Scotch originally intended for Josh. “I have what I’d call ‘situational fame.’ People in the music industry know who I am. At music festivals, I have to roll with at least two bodyguards, so I don’t get attacked by wannabes. But just living my life in the world, like tonight, I can hang out with no problem. It’s the best of both worlds.”
“Meaning you wouldn’t want to be more famous, if you could?”
“Hell no. I’ve seen massive fame close up, with some of my artists and past girlfriends, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. That’s what doomed a few of my relationships, actually. The woman being too famous, or wanting to be. It’s a drug for some people. And, as we all know, drugs don’t lead to a happy ending.”
“Fame is the culprit in your failed relationships? You’re sure about that?”
I chuckle. “Well, that and I can sometimes turn into a colossal prick when I get bored.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Plus, I’m generally what you’d label ‘non-committal’ when it comes to relationships in the first place, so that could have contributed to the demise of a few of my relationships, as well.”
She frowns. “Ah, so, you’re a cheater?”
“No. If I say I’m exclusive, then I am. It’s just really, really hard to get me to say I’m exclusive.”
She nods, apparently approving of that answer. “I’m the same way.”
“You turn into a colossal prick when you get bored, too?”
She giggles and winks. “Only when provoked. No, I consider myself ‘non-committal’ at the moment, too. For the foreseeable future, anyway. While I’m trying to launch my budding journalism career, I’ve decided not to focus on anything or anyone else.”
“Do you have a job lined up after graduation?”
“No, unfortunately.” She secures the lid on a metal shaker. “That’s why I went to that event today. To try to give CeeCee a couple of my writing samples. My dream job is writing for her latest magazine, Dig a Little Deeper.”
“I’m familiar with it. I think you’d be great at that. You’re obviously good at connecting with people. Drawing them out.” And wrapping them around your pretty little finger, I’m sure.
“Thank you. Fingers crossed.”
“Was it mission accomplished with CeeCee? Did she take your writing samples?”
“She did. I got lucky and bumped into a professor after the panel who introduced us, and then CeeCee invited me to coffee. That’s why I left without saying a word to you—because when opportunity came knocking, I did exactly what you told me to do: I said, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’”
I chuckle. “Well, fuck. When I instructed you to say those three magic words, I was hoping you’d be saying them to me—and under much more intimate circumstances.”
She flushes. “What did you think when I left with CeeCee?”
“I was intrigued. I couldn’t decide if you were CeeCee’s new personal assistant or intern or niece, or if you were playing the world’s most masterful game of chess with me.”
She slides a martini in front of me. “With you? How could me leaving with CeeCee have anything to do with you?”
I shrug. “It was an event for music students, so, I assumed you had to be an aspiring pop star with a demo in your pocket, like everyone else in the building. I thought you’d seen my long line and decided you’d get far more traction out of leaving with CeeCee—and gambling on me tracking you down tomorrow—than staying and trying to compete for my attention.”
She looks shocked. “Damn. That’s quite a leap. When I left with CeeCee, I was sure I’d never see you again. I can’t even imagine thinking two moves ahead like you’ve suggested.”
Jesus, she’s such a bullshitter. “Yeah, well, if you’d actually been a music student who wanted to use me for more than my hot body,” I say, “then I guarantee you’d not only have played chess with me, you’d have been fucking Bobby Fischer.”
