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“I’m sharing this with you because your review is coming up, and I know you’re hoping for that promotion to senior paralegal.”
Oh, god. What was she getting at?
“Um, right,” I said, forcing some steadiness into my voice.
“Maizy,” she said, looking around again to make sure no one could hear us, “it’s because you’re single that people aren’t friendly to you.”
“Huh?” I wasn’t usually that inarticulate with my boss, but at that moment, the words were just not coming.
“You see, you’re young and beautiful, and dare I say, sexy? The wives don’t particularly like their husbands around someone like you. And the men feel like they have to steer clear.”
I swallowed hard, a sip of my gin and tonic having done nothing to help the strangled sensation in my throat.
“If you really want to move up in the firm…”
She waited, it seemed to make sure I was listening carefully, so I nodded like a bobble-head.
“You need to have a husband.”
Wha…?
Did she really say what I thought she did?
“Or, at least a fiancé,” she added quickly. “You see, at a conservative firm like ours, young women like…you…are a threat to some people. And unfortunately, those are the people who carry a lot of weight.”
“S…so I…um…would have a more successful career if I had a boyfriend?”
She pursed her lips while she looked at me, which I didn’t know was possible with all the Botox it was rumored she got. “Not just a boyfriend, Maizy. A fiancé or even better, a husband.”
She waved across the room at some woman and put her hand back on my arm.
“I’m so glad we got to have this talk, Maizy. Please do think about what I said.” And she was off, floating across the room to talk to someone undoubtedly more important than me.
And who probably had a fiancé. Or even a husband.
Chapter 2
Anson
I came up out of the subway at 59th Street and Columbus Circle and headed over to my brother and sister-in-law’s place for another of their insufferable dinner parties. I usually managed to avoid them with any number of lame excuses they’d accept, but tonight was different. Eva, my brother’s wife, would not let me off the hook.
She had someone from her firm she wanted me to meet. And Eva got what Eva wanted.
So to protest in my best passive-aggressive fashion, I was not only twenty minutes late but also arrived empty-handed—no wine, no flowers, no nothing. I hoped they wouldn’t tell my mother, who’d kill me for my rudeness.
The last time Eva tried to set me up with someone, it had been worse than disastrous. The woman was nice enough, even a good time. She’d come home with me after our first date, which I thought was a nice bonus. Boy, did that blow up in my face.
You see, I didn’t call her again. Yeah, she slept with me and all, but in New York, there are tons of beautiful women. You hardly ever go out with anyone for a second time. My bad.
A couple days after our date, she started calling me. And I guess, as a dick move on my part, I ignored her messages. That’s when they started coming in more frequently. And that’s when I realized I was in trouble.
My date told Eva and her husband—my brother—that I’d fucked her and never called her again.
Who does that?
And boy, was I in the doghouse with them for a while. But it was actually a sort of blessing. It meant Eva was off my back.
After that, she’d given up on me for a good year or two. But it didn’t last. Like the true matchmaking addict that she was, she slowly fell back into it, like a repeat offender.
