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“You didn’t want to bring her along for the ride?” He eyed my slice after finishing his own, and I pushed it toward him.
“Why are we talking so much about my secretaries?” I asked, offended. “What’s happening with your secretary?”
“Nothing.” Peter shrugged, helping himself to what was left of my pizza. “But I’m married.”
“So was my father,” I mumbled.
“Point taken.”
We finished up our lunch and walked back to the office together. I went into one meeting after another until five o’clock when my mother showed up. She and Ava passed each other in the hall. I let Ava go instead of asking her to stick around and entertain my mom.
“I like that dress on Ava,” Mom commented as she walked in.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Don’t what?” she feigned ignorance.
“Just don’t.”
“Sweetheart, just because your father is a bastard —excuse my language —doesn’t mean you are. You don’t have a wife and a child, and you’re not a serial cheater.”
“She’s my secretary,” I replied, trying to put an end to the discussion.
“And she’s a woman, and you like her,” Mom said.
“Can we talk about something else?” I asked.
“What would you like to talk about?”
I stroked my chin, thinking about my conversation with Peter. He mentioned throwing my dad a bone, but I didn’t see why it wouldn’t also work for my mother. “I was thinking about having a prize. Something like the best dressed Mariah Harris Couture prize. You could arrange it all. It would be an annual affair you could hold at the country club or something.”
She frowned, taken aback by my suggestion. It wasn’t an insult or an inappropriate proposal, but somehow, she smelled something shady. “Okay,” she said reluctantly.
“You can get together with Ava for everything you need,” I continued, ushering her toward the door.
“Okay.” This time she seemed a little more excited, as if she was letting herself get familiar with the idea.
“I’m thinking May for the spring fashion line.” I put my hand on her shoulder, opening up the door.
“That doesn’t give me a lot of time,” she said.
“It would mean a lot to the company,” I replied.
“Okay.” She tipped forward to give me a peck on the cheek and walked out of the office without bothering me any further.
I watched her go, in awe of my friend Peter. First his suggestion about open interviews landed me Ava and now he had handed me a surefire way to get out from under my parents. I had to hand it to him, he was a genius.
On Friday, I felt like things were going smoothly with Ava. She joined me for breakfast every day without prodding. She was quick with a smile and seemed relaxed in my presence. I was relaxing too, although I caught myself staring at her chest more than once.
“Hey, why don’t you come out with me?” I asked over bagels and cream cheese on Friday morning. She didn’t respond, so I continued just to make sure she understood that I wasn’t asking her out on a date. “I have to meet Jonas for sushi after work. We could make it a working dinner and come up with an excuse to ditch him early.”
She grinned. “I think the best part of drinks with Jonas would be ditching him.”
“So you’ll come?”
“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Wear what you have on,” I suggested. It wasn’t exactly a clubbing outfit, but we weren’t going to a rave. For drinks with a fellow trust fund baby, understated was the way to go. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
