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“Huh? What?”
“I lost you somewhere after the orgasm discussion.”
“Sorry. Still trying to wake up.”
“Sure.” Maggie laughs. “So, what’s up for today?”
“I’m stopping at all the major publishing houses.”
“Do you have an appointment or something?”
“I wish.” Sighing, I sit back in my chair. “I have envelopes addressed to the human relations departments for each publisher and plan to leave them at their front desks. I can’t seem to get anyone to answer my emails, so maybe a personal touch will be the ticket.”
“You’ve got this, Tessa.” There’s nothing like having a best friend who believes in you more than you do in yourself.
“By the way, you were right about pink and this city. I look exactly like I arrived from the South.” I glance around the coffee shop, appraising the customers. “It’s a black sea with a few waves of gray mixed in.”
“We’ve been over this. Do you like black?”
“Despise it.”
“Then be your beautiful self in pink. Own it. Show those drab fuckers what it’s like to swim upstream.” Maggie knows all about being the anarchist. Me? I’ve always been happy to go with the flow.
“Thanks for the pep talk. I need to get a move on. Early bird and all. Plus, I only have a week to get a worm.”
“In the form of a dick on a hot guy I hope.”
“Stop.” I giggle in an outside voice way, and a few people turn toward me with their mouths open in surprise. I guess laughter stands out in New York City as much as wearing pink.
5
Barclay
I take a deep breath as I pick up my cell phone. I’d rather have my chest hairs waxed than make this call, which is pure torture. Damn all the metrosexual grooming trends. A hairless man is like one of those hairless cats. They look naked and frightening as hell. A man needs to look like a man for fuck’s sake.
Grumbling under my breath, I find the number I need and press call, wondering how to even begin this conversation. Kill me now.
“Barc,” Lucas yells into the phone. Bells ring in the background, so he must be working on the trading floor. “Is everything okay? It’s nine in the morning, and a workday. We rarely talk during daylight.”
“Yeah, no emergencies or anything like that. Why don’t you call me when you’re off the floor.” Even as I say the words, the noise in the background fades.
“I was just leaving that jungle. Getting the young guys set for the day. What’s up?” Lucas gets right to the point, and I swallow before answering. I swore I’d never do this, yet here I sit in my executive chair about ready to do the unthinkable: pay for a date.
“Well,” I say in a stalled response. “I need a number from you.”
“A number? You know I can’t give you any insider info on stocks. No perp walk for me, even for my closest friend. I will not be someone’s bitch in a federal prison.”
“Jesus, Lucas. I’d never ask for those kinds of numbers. I need a phone number.” I pause a beat. “The escort one.”
A bitterness lands on my tongue, but it’s a pill I have to swallow because finding a date with a new woman by Saturday will be impossible with my workload.
“Wait a second. Did you say ‘escort’?” Lucas’s voice is filled with disbelief, and I feel the same way.
“Yes, it’s a long story, revolving around my meddling sister, but I need a date for Saturday night. The Warwick Awards.”
“Are you fucking with me, Barclay? It’s only Thursday, dude. A guy like you could swing his briefcase and have a score of women willing to do just about anything with him—or for him.”
“I’m not the same guy I was in my twenties.” There’s a reason I don’t see my friend outside of the gym or sporting events. He still lives like he’s twenty-five. “Maybe you know a specific woman who could work. She needs to be refined and real, not a Botoxed supermodel type.”
“What gives?” Lucas asks. “You need to hang out with me tonight. There’s this new place in The Village. We’ll have this issue knocked out by nine, maybe sooner.”
“Listen, forget I asked,” I say, forgoing the crazy idea and hoping Lucas will forget this conversation ever happened. He has the memory of an elephant, so the chances are slim, but webs this tangled usually end up strangling someone in lies. The idea of going dateless and attending my father’s birthday party with one of Victoria’s friends sounds better and better by the moment.
“I have no idea why you need it, but it’s yours. No questions. After all the jams you’ve helped me out of, I’ll never be able to repay you. I’ll even include the name of a girl you should request. Sending the text now.”
