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“Wow. That’s good stuff.” With that many people, we were at capacity, but we always made room for extra women if they really wanted in. It was the least we could do.
“Yes, it is. I’m going over to check out the venue one last time, and we’ll be all set.”
“Cool, thanks. It will be nice to kick back and relax tonight. I need it after that tight-assed party in the Hamptons.”
Gio snickered. “Well, amico, those Hamptons folks are the very people making us extremely successful right now, so watch your disdain for them.”
“I am, don’t worry, I am. Who knew those prepster types were such a bunch of pervs?” I said, amused.
“Hey, you’re one to talk.”
And he was right. I said my goodbyes and got up to dress for work—my day job as a finance hot shot, and my night job as a sex party promoter for Manhattan’s elite.
Guess which one I liked better?
Chapter 5
AVRIL
“Holy shit, girl. That is some kind of story,” Blu said, holding one of my hands while I blew my nose with the other. I looked up at his kind eyes. Every woman should have a gay best friend. Especially an adorable one with red hair and freckles.
I nodded at him, only slightly uncomfortable with shedding a few tears at one of the city’s top lunch spots. I was not, however, about to start sobbing into my chilled celery soup and gluten-free breadsticks. Not that I’d eat the breadsticks. I didn’t eat carbs.
“Worst of all, Blu,” I said with a sniffle, “you know who he was fucking? You want to know who?”
Of course, he wanted to know. He wanted to know more than he wanted air to breathe or water to drink.
“Tell me, baby. Tell me who the nasty whore is,” he begged.
“Dagney.”
“Who?”
“Dagney. You know her.” The sobs were dangerously close. I might have to excuse myself for the ladies’ room.
“DAGNEY?” he screamed.
I looked around the room as the glances shot our way. Nothing to see here, folks. Please get back to your lunches.
I lowered my voice for privacy, hoping Blu would follow with his inside voice. “Yup.”
“Get out. Dagney, your assistant? That little thing with the curly hair and glasses?”
I pressed a tissue against my mouth in case a wail were to try and escape. Because of that, I couldn’t speak.
So I just nodded.
“Holy. Shit.”
I nodded some more.
“That nasty, fucking bitch. You gave her a job and taught her everything she knows.”
I kept nodding, although I couldn’t really see Blu now. The tears were fully blurring my vision, and it was all I could do to keep up with my runny nose. I wouldn’t be eating a thing for lunch, which kind of bummed me out. I really loved celery soup.
And Blu was right. I’d taken Dagney under my wing. She’d been a recent art history grad with no prospects—I mean, what prospects does any art history major have?—and I taught her everything I knew about running a gallery. My gallery, I might add, which was known as one of fastest “up and comers” in all of Manhattan.
So now, I was down one husband. And one assistant.
