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“The slapping fantasy has returned.”
Beatriz gave him the hotel information. Hotel Essex, Essex, New York, care of Claudia Spears—her sister, she reminded him, who was about to get married. As she finished giving him the address, her phone buzzed to alert her that her Uber had arrived and was waiting outside the front door of her brownstone.
“Gotta go. My ride is here.”
“Have fun,” John said.
“Have fun writing a book review?”
“You’ll find a way to make it fun, Bea. You always do…”
Without another word Bea hung up on him and tossed the phone into her purse. She shouldered her bag, grabbed her suitcase, and raced past the desk in her tiny home office. A stack of unopened bubble mailers had been accumulating on her chair for weeks. The return address label on the top envelope read “Brown Paper Publishing.” She knew Brown Paper. A boutique press, they specialized in coffee table books on risqué subject matter. Great. Perfect. Wonderful. Lots of pictures and very little text. Easy review for a busy Bea.
Beatriz shoved the envelope into her purse and headed out to her Uber. She threw her stuff in the backseat and confirmed her destination with the driver, the airport. Once they were on their way she pulled the envelope out of her purse. Maybe she could flip through the book on the plane ride upstate. She’d get the reading and the reviewing over with as soon as possible so she could relax and enjoy all the pre-wedding partying with her sister, Claudia, and Henry, her fiancé. This wouldn’t be a problem. Not a problem at all.
With one tear she ripped the envelope open and pulled out the book.THE MANUALit read in big gold type on a black cover. She flipped it over to the back and read the cover copy.A Sex Position Manual for Millennials. If you read it, you will come…
Sex position manual? Beatriz nearly groaned aloud. There was only one way to review a sex position manual and that was by having sex with someone. And here she was on her way to a wedding with no date, no boyfriend, and no time to go back to her apartment and get another book. Which meant only one thing.
Once she got to Essex, she would have to find someone to sleep with.
“Fuck,” she breathed.
“Fuck what?” the driver repeated, a smile on her face.
“No,” Beatriz said. “Fuck who.”
That was the question.
