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I had let guys get to second base on the first date, but never anything more. Arnie didn’t even get that far.
“I don’t know how,” I said. I had never picked up a guy. They always made the first move. I had no clue what to do.
Vivienne grinned and took two swallows of her Moscow mule. “Good girl. The first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem.”
“So what do I do? On the off chance I want to take your advice tonight…”
Her grin increased to a full-on megawatt smile. “Pick a guy, preferably one who’s alone and looks like he showers on a regular basis.” She scanned the room.
I waited for her advice. She was the expert at this.
Vivienne tipped her head toward the bar. “Dark hair, navy suit, looks like he showers regularly.”
The man she pointed out was alone at the bar and had been there ever since I arrived. He was nursing a drink and seemed to be pondering the state of the world in the bottom of his glass.
“He’s hot,” Vivienne said. “But I can’t tell if he’s wearing a ring from here.”
A quick chill ran through me. I hadn’t considered that some men here might be married. I would not be a home-wrecker. “What if he just took it off to come in here?”
“Don’t get all paranoid, sis. This time of year you’ll see a tan line on his finger if he took it off. What I was going to say is, you can check for a ring first.”
“Or if he had one on recently.”
“Sure, that too. If it looks okay, then pick him up.”
Those were all the instructions she was offering? Pick him up? If he was a pencil or a stapler, I could pick him up, but I was clueless on how to pick upa guy.
“But——”
“No buts. Go up and meet the guy.”
“How?”
“Find a reason to get close to him, maybe look sideways at him, catch his eye. Talk to him.”
“And just ask if he wants to fuck?”
“Of course not. Undo another button on your top.”
I undid a button.
“That’s not enough; you need another one.”
“But I don’t ever——"
“Trust me. Another button. This is advertising. You understand advertising, right?”
I undid another, and now you could see my cleavage and my bra.”
“That’s nice,” my sister said. “Black lace——they go for black. Or red, that gets ‘em too.”
I might not be into her kind ofadvertising, but I liked nice lingerie.
“Now go do it.” Her eyes bored into me. My sister would not let me back down. “Remember, you’re doing this to get back at Matt for those damn alimony payments.”
Her statement riled me enough to do anything. Matt had said I wasn’t talented enough to land a marketing job at the tech startup, and he had scoffed at my and Samantha’s idea of starting our confectionery company. I had been successful at both those things, and I could learn to do this too.
I got up, straightened my skirt, picked up my glass and started for the bar. I was uncomfortable having so much cleavage showing, but that’s what my margarita was for. I sucked down the last of my liquid courage.
