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“You want me to make a bet that I can use a woman? Do I look like I left my morals at the door?”
Colin snagged a mushroom crostini off a passing tray and munched thoughtfully. “It’s like I thought. You can’t do it.”
“I can. I just don’t need your five hundred bucks.”
“Fine, let’s sweeten the pot. Half of next year’s season tickets.”
Mitchell froze.
Of course, he already had season tickets to the Yankees. Not that he ever got to use them.
But his seats on the first-base line weren’t like the seats Colin had. At work Colin might be as useful as a third nipple, but his cousin was tied up somehow with Yankee business. As a result, Colin always had access to tickets for seats that you couldn’t buy your way into.
It was appallingly tempting to take the bet. Do not do this, Forbes. Do not sacrifice your dignity for the sake of a baseball team.
And yet Mitchell stood frozen. Because the truth was, he wanted more than the tickets. Mitchell needed to know that Colin was wrong. That he was capable of a spontaneous fling.
That he wasn’t turning into his father, stuck on a one-way street toward a McMansion in a gated community in the Connecticut suburbs just because it was expected.
“Let’s say I do this,” Mitchell said slowly. “How will we determine who wins?”
Colin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly, all but rubbing his hands together. Colin was one of those fools who fumbled his way through the routine aspects of life just waiting for a hiccup to add some excitement.
Apparently Mitchell was to be his next hiccup.
“Well,” Colin said, scrunching up his face, “it’ll be tricky. We need tangible, physical proof.”
Mitchell rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to do, steal her thong?”
Colin winced. “Jesus, no. And that wouldn’t do any good anyway. You could simply pick up a hooker and be done with it. The bet is that you actually date the woman. You just get out of it before you start ring shopping.”
Again with the surge of irritation. “You act like I get engaged to every woman I kiss.”
“No, I’m just saying that you plan to get engaged to every woman you kiss. You need to have a relationship that won’t end with you guys picking out wallpaper.”
“So should I just hire a robot? All women want to pick out wallpaper. It’s what they do.”
Colin shook his head. “You’re even worse off than I thought. How about this—we find a woman in this very building to be our test subject. You woo her with your hefty paycheck and preppy looks. Then you take her on at least five dates. What you do on those dates is up to you. But you can’t get attached.”
“And how do we gauge that?”
Colin thought for a second. “How about at Rob’s annual end-of-the-summer picnic, where dates are all but mandatory, you bring a different woman. Thus proving yo
u were able to let our test subject go.”
Mitchell stared at him. “How’d you make it past the third grade? That’s the most ridiculous idea since the creation of reality TV.”
Colin shrugged. “Half my season tickets says you can’t do it. That you can’t see this woman for five consecutive dates and then call it off. I absolutely guarantee you’ll find a way to convince yourself that she’s the one and bring her to the picnic.”
Every fiber of his being rebelled at the idea. And yet …
“You’re on.”
Colin’s eyes bugged. “You’re doing this?”
“I just said I was.”
“Hold on, then—what do I get if you lose?”
