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Subj:Friday Night: I don’t understand how you, as a30-year-oldman, have time to bother me on a Friday night about work. Go and do that thing you were supposed to do to that woman who called today.
“Quinci, I would like to invite you somewhere Sunday night, only if you’re open to it.”
I looked up at him. “Where?”
“Stay right here. I have to go to my car right quick.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Another message came in.
Danger: Subj:24/7: Your job description.
Me: You’re committed to being anasshole. If you took two seconds to look in the fileI created in the Kog system,and not text me on while I’m on a date, you’d see it.
A message instantly came through.
Danger: A date?
Me: You jumped in my business so fast, you forgot to put a subject. The editing on the first five pages is done. If you don’t mind, I’ll be turning the phone off for the rest of the night. Goodnight, Mr. Dymon.
I wasn’t going toactually turnthe phone off, but I wanted him to think I was, so he’d stop texting me about some shit I’d already done. Moments later, his name flashed on the screen.
“Hello, Mr. Dymon.”
“The job offer you signed,Wenci, means that you are available 24/7.”
I closed my eyes to savor his voice.It was like he spoke in tenor key the whole time. His voice just carried every time he opened his mouth.
“Mr. Dymon, I am available to you 24/7. What else do you need from me tonight?”
Hedidn’t say anything until he cleared his throat.
“Just… just be on calllike I pay you to be,” he growled before ending the call.
A few minutes later, Malik came back to the table, holding a blackenvelope trimmed in gold. “Don’t open it here. There is an exclusive website on that card that is for your eyes only.You read about the history of the club, and everything that goes on in there. Specific memberships andshitlikethat. You remember when I said I was an entertainer? Yeah, that. Go home. Think about it. And I hope I see you Sunday.And I hope we match.”
“Wow. I’m always open for a good time.”
“See, you’re in the right mindset already. I’m with a group of peopleover there if you want to join us.”
“No, I’m good. Thank you anyway.”
“Alright. It was really nice to see you again, Quinci.”
When he walked away, Islid the card in my purse andpicked my workphone back upto see that I had five messages from Dymon. Instead of reading them, I called him.
“What?” he hissed.
“You text me a hundred times and then you have an attitude when I call.Are you serious aboutactinglike a Sour Patch Kid? One moment,youkind of cool, and the next, you start getting bent out of shape.Why?” I’d already paid for my drink, so I took a few more sips beforeheading for the door.
“Goodnight, Quinci.” Malikthrew his hand upat me as I left out the door.
“Where are you?”
“You don’t answer a question with a question, Mr. Dymon.”
“How are you getting home?”
