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Noah frowns, and Dante says, “Great. Way to ruin our company image by banging the intern before she’s even hired on.”
“I didn’t have sex with her. She…Well, the elevator ate her skirt on the way to her interview, and I let her wear my coat until Sandy could get another one brought to the office.”
Dante grins at me, and it only then occurs to me I’m talking about the intern’s underwear while a model is trying to get me to fuck her. “Anyway, there was something off about her the whole time. Most of the people I hire are confident and do everything they can to show me they’re the perfect fit. She told me she didn’t think she could do the job. Why even apply for a social media marketing position if you don’t think you can do it?”
Noah says, “You hired her anyway, right? She was the only person in the entire stack of resumes who’d ever done anything noteworthy with ChitChat.”
I nod to him, and he says, “Good. We’re on the edge of losing clients because they want someone who can blow their image up without dumping hundreds of millions into TV ads.”
I hate that we’re moving away from the things that we’re so good at and putting it in the hands of an intern right out of college. Since we started, we made a point of only hiring people with five to ten years of experience so they could bring solid ideas with them, and now our future hinges on a girl that can’t ride an elevator successfully.
But that’s the way the marketing industry is. You can’t get stuck. You have to be agile.
“I know a thing or two about social media,” Sasha says as her hand moves ever closer to my crotch. “Want to see?”
Not at all. “Sure.” She pulls her phone out of her purse and flips through screens until she shows me short clips of her walking down the runway or posing in Central Park. Her best clip has had twenty-thousand views, and it’s her in lingerie.
Compared to Madison’s million views on a video about book covers.
“That’s pretty good,” I say. I know I’m supposed to enjoy spending time with this woman, but I’m just so tired of being forced into nights like this. If only I could find someone that wasn’t with me because I’m Emery Brooks.
“Let’s get out of here,” she whispers as her fingers brush against the tent growing in my slacks. I may be annoyed by her, but my body knows what she’s offering. That doesn’t mean that I’m interested in it.
My smile widens, and I say, “That’s a good idea.” Turning to Noah and Dante, I say, “Hey, why don’t we go to the club? It’d be nice to stretch our legs a bit, and you two seem extra lonely tonight.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Sasha whispers.
“I know. But you know what they say about dancing. It’s a vertical expression of a horizontal desire, and a bit of teasing never hurt anyone.”
She frowns, but Dante says, “Fuck yes. Please. Noah, you can take some hippy poet here instead of us next week. For now, let’s go do something that doesn’t make me want to gouge my ears out with a spoon.”
Noah shakes his head but says, “Fine. We can go listen to music built on the idea that mumbling is sexy while you convince a woman to take her clothes off before you even know her name.”
“Now that’s a plan I can get behind,” Dante says with a grin.
I stand up, and out of nowhere, I wonder if Madison would prefer clubbing or listening to jazz. I’d put my money on jazz out of the two, but she’d probably prefer staying home to either of them.
Sasha pulls my attention away from my thoughts as she whispers in my ear, “We could always let these two go to the club, and we could go back to your place. I’m wearing that bra you liked so much.”
I take a deep breath. It’s really hard for women to understand that there’s a method to my madness, that the two of us are here for a reason that doesn’t necessarily include fun. Sure, there are men out there that would love to date a different model every weekend, but I have an image to maintain, and part of that is being in the public eye for the entire night.
I turn to her and say, “Sasha, we can’t go home until at least midnight. You need to either get behind that, or I can drop you off at your house before I go to the club.”
She pauses for a minute, and I realize that I’ve let my mask slip a little too much. “My name’s Sophie.”
I can’t help but smile a little wider. I think I’d prefer going stag tonight, anyway. Sophie hasn’t been as much fun as I’d hoped.
“Well Sophie, I guess I’ll drop you off at your house.”
She nods her head, and it’s like a weight off my shoulder. It was a mistake to bring her out tonight, but it seems like that’s happening more and more often. Ten years ago, I’d have had fun with her. I’d have played with her, teased her until she was begging, and then I’d have shown her what it’s like to be with Emery Brooks.
Anymore, going out with women like Sophie is the hardest part of my job. At work, everything is still the same as it’s always been. I do the thing I enjoy in the place that I built. Out here, though? I have to be the man that everyone believes I am. I have to play nice with the women that just want to use me.
It’s becoming exhausting, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. Noah told me from the very beginning that it would be too much. I didn’t believe him, and a stubborn part of me wants to think he was wrong. That part of me is slowly dying, though.
I don’t know how much longer I can be Emery Brooks.
Chapter 3
