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“So happy for you, sweetie,” she tells me. I can hear lots of noise and movement in the background. That’s par for the course these days when talking to Natalie during business hours.
“You on the move?” I ask.
“Always,” she tells me, just a little breathless. “Hang on.” I hear the muffled sounds of her giving instructions to someone. She comes back on the phone. “Sorry about that. I’m in and out of meetings all day, and during the thirty seconds it takes me to go from one office to another, everyone tries to get a piece of me.”
“Mmm, I’d like a piece of you,” I purr.
“You get to haveallof me,” she whispers sexily. It’s immediately followed by a quick, “Gotta go! Who’s picking up dinner tonight, me or you?”
“You.”
“Shit. OK, then Ireallygotta go. Bye, sweetie.”
We hang up. I put the phone back in my pocket. I stretch my whole body as I stare out the window at the Manhattan skyline. There was a time when I would look at this view, and the only thing on my mind was what parts of it I could acquire and for how much. The skyline wasmylife.
Now, I look at it differently. Now, it just seems like thebackdropof my life.
The only bit of Manhattan real estate I really care about anymore is my residence inside the high-end property that is Natalie’s heart.
It’s a lease I plan to keep indefinitely.
