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“That’s why I rented the hotel rooms I did,” I said with a smile. “Tomorrow I’ll only have to walk a few blocks. Better than the commute in on the CalTrain.”
Just talking about tomorrow filled my body with a shiver of nervousness. Ineededthat job, and didn’t want to think about what would happen if it didn’t pan out.
Shut up, brain. You can worry and over-analyze things tomorrow. I gulped the rest of my champagne to make sure my brain complied with the command.
“Well, at least let me pay for the hotel rooms,” Phil said.
I was getting sick of his persistence, so I dryly said, “I doubt they take Bitcoin.”
“Everyone takes crypto thanks to my Coinbase card,” he replied smoothly. “It acts like any other credit card, but with a pass-through to my crypto accounts. In fact—”
“I know all about that,” I replied. “I have the same card. Not to mention I wrote a point-of-sale program on top of the Litecoin blockchain years ago. Before BitPay stole my idea.”
“BitPay. Sure. Of course,” he said with a patronizing smile.
“Less talk, more dancing!” my sister said. “Come on. You too, Amber! If you don’t start shaking your booty I willliterallylight you on fire.”
I got another champagne from the waitress and then joined them over near the railing. For a while, we danced and drank and forgot all about the other problems in our lives.
When we emerged from the group to get two new drinks, my sister said, “Any new investment opportunities lately?”
That was her code for asking if I had any men in my life. She was getting her degree in finance and thought everything was funnier in economic terms.
“None with an attractive return-on-investment,” I replied.
“Good!” she replied. “Because that guy at the bar has been looking at you like you’re a juicy REIT with a high dividend.”
Adjacent to our open rooftop section was an enclosed bar. A dozen or so people were inside, watching one of the bar TVs or mingling. The man my sister was talking about looked like he had just come from the office. A starched white dress shirt, blue tie, and blazer. Expensive-looking leather shoes and a matching brown belt. He was peering down at his drink through thin spectacles as if there was a puzzle contained within the ice. When he glanced up and saw that we were watching him, he quickly turned away from us and toward the bar.
“SEE!” my sister hissed.
“He’s not my type,” I replied.
That wasn’t really true. I didn’t have a type. In fact, I hated theideaof a “type.” Pigeonholing yourself into dating only a specific kind of person was dumb.
But the guy at the bar did look like the kind of dude I wouldn’t be interested in. He was giving off a stuck-up vibe. I mean honestly, what kind of guy wore a tie and jacket to a hip restaurant on a Thursday night? Someone who was trying to show off, that’s who.
“Not your type? He’s like a cute librarian boy!” Michelle said.
“Hard pass.”
“Come on,” Michelle begged.
“I’m here for your birthday,” I replied. “Not to try hooking up with a random stranger.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she groaned. “You like to get to know a guy first. Whatever. Just go get to knowcute librarian guy.”
“Shelly…”
“Earlier, you asked what I wanted for my birthday.” She pointed. “This is what I want. I’ve just decided. I want you to meet a guy. And maybe hook up with a guy.Tonight.If you don’t go talk to cute librarian guy right now, I’m going to throw you off this roof into the traffic below. And then call a dozen Ubers to come run over your body.”
One thing I could always count on from my sister was a graphic threat of violence. It had been our fun little thing since we were children. By this point, the more graphic the threat, the more it meantI love you.
The guy at the bar glanced at us again, then quickly turned back to the bartender.
“Comeon,” Michelle whined. “You haven’t dated anyone in… five years.”
I was grateful she didn’t come right out and name the event from five years ago, but the indirect mention still made me wince. She was right. Ever since five years ago, everything had changed. My life had become too crazy to worry about boys or dating or anything else frivolous.
