There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story (6 page)

I feel a pinch of something, maybe jealousy, probably relief, as I buzz Linda. I try not to pay attention to them. However, I catch him watching me when Linda walks into my office—or he could’ve been watching Linda’s ass.
 

“Pull up a chair,” I say. “I want to run some ideas by you, and I need you to play devil’s advocate.” I point at her. “And don’t let me off the hook.”

“Just remember you asked.” She leans in closer. “But first, you really had nothing going on with Vincent before you started working here?”

I frown, taken aback. “Nope. Why?”

“You didn’t notice the weirdness?”

“Do you mean the way he was going at…” Shit, I’ve already forgotten the guy’s name.

“Keith,” Linda says. “Yes, but not only that. He can’t look you in the eyes like he does the rest of us.”

“What?”
 

“You distract him. Either he’s seen you naked or he wants to see you naked.”

I can’t keep from blurting out a laugh. “No, he’s never seen me naked, and I strongly doubt that he wants to.”

She shakes her head. “You’re a lost cause. He’s been staring at your office all day long.” She twists around to look over her shoulder. “See, there he goes. He likes you.”

I’m speechless. Vincent Adams likes me? If a supermodel, actress, dance chick is Venus, then I’m the bayou. There’s no comparing us. Linda’s wrong about this.
 

I shrug, ready to move on. “Whatever. So I was thinking about the eighteen to thirty-five demographic since they’re the ones who’re always fiddling with their phones.”

“‘They’? Aren’t you part of that group?”

I snicker. “Yes, but I’m wearing the white coat.”

“Me too, I guess. Since I’m your lab assistant.”

We laugh.
 

“I logged onto Venue Tracker and made a list of the most popular events amongst that, or our, age bracket.” I wink at her. “There’s a huge winter sports competition in Aspen called End of March Powder. It’s covered by all the pertinent media outlets. If the newsmakers they watch and believe show them that the IK App is hot, then they’ll have to believe it, being impressionable and all.”
 

Linda remains stern. “Who’s your point of contact for the event?”

“I’ve written down some names. I’m going to run them by a few people I know and see if I can get an introduction.”

Linda looks impressed. “You have that kind of inner circle?”

I wink at her. I’m not divulging that I have a cousin who knows everybody who’s anybody on planet Earth.
 

“And when is the event?” she asks.

“In two weeks.”

“Cutting it close.”

“I figured we’d just get in and find our moments.”

She ponders that while nodding. “I like your Rambo style. It won’t cost a lot of money either. Vincent’s always mindful of the budget.”

“By the way, what was with Janice?” I ask.

“Oh, she’s a bitch. That’s what’s with her. She also has a crush on Vincent. He might have fucked her once or twice. That’s what I heard.”

“He does that? Fraternize?”

“Hell, I’d fraternize with him if he wants. Would you ever kiss and tell if he wanted to fuck you?”

“Absolutely!”

I think my answer caught her by surprise because she laughs and asks, “Where are you from, Maggie?”

“I mostly grew up here.”

“Did you go to one of those Baptist schools? You sure as hell aren’t a Catholic schoolgirl. If you were, you would’ve already picked up on the signals Vincent’s been throwing your way and banged him over the toilet.”

I let out an unrestrained laugh. Linda has a mouth like Monroe. Maybe that’s why I like her so much. “That’s nasty!”

“You mean naughty.”

We laugh again.
 

“Excuse me.”
 

Linda and I pipe down and turn quickly to see Vincent standing in the doorway.
 

“Do you have a ride to the polo field tomorrow?” he asks. At first he looks at me, but then he looks at Linda and that’s where his eyes stay.

Linda grins impishly. I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s already pointed out that the man who stares everyone in the eyes can’t look in mine for more than five seconds, at least not from a close distance.
 

“Well, I figured I’d ride out with Maggie,” she says, thumbing in my direction.

“Oh, you have a car, that’s right,” he says.

“Vincent, it’s getting late!” the girl in the polka dot sweater calls. She’s in front of his office, watching him.
 

He pastes his eyes on my face. “Good night.”
 

Those two words unexpectedly make me shiver. I can feel his torment. “Good night,” I barely say.

He walks between the lines of cubicles separating our offices. The model-type woman takes his arm, and they walk to the elevator together.

I watch them. “See, he’s not into me.”

Linda snorts and nudges her chest. “He didn’t say good night to me like that.” She pauses. “Hell, he didn’t say good night to me at all!”

We laugh again. He turns back to glance into my office one last time before he and the woman disappear behind the elevator doors.

Chapter 5

Kick Me With A Polo Stick

I have drinks and appetizers with friends at Grey Smoke, a pop-up bar in the West Village. I twist my wrist to glimpse at my watch. “I only have an hour. I have to drive to Southampton in the morning.”

Cleo bites into a cherry on the stem. “For what?”

“A polo match.” Just saying that makes me happy.
 

“You’re glowing not because you finally got laid, but because you have to work on the weekend. Your priorities are all wrong,” Hannah says and flips her copper hair, which catches the eyes of a passerby.
 

“Whatever.” I catch them up on how it happened. I start with the voice mail from Jack. Just mentioning his name makes them swoon. Then I reveal my job title, and they applaud.

“That’s it. You’ve died and gone to corporation heaven,” Monroe says cynically.

I twist in my chair while fluttering my eyelashes. “Yes, my darling, I surely have.”

“Now you can work on your man-less situation,” Hannah says while making eyes at the guy who fell for her hair-flip trick.

The first man who comes to mind is Vincent. “I’ll probably work on it soon,” I mutter.

Monroe shoves Hannah’s arm. “Hey, don’t let her make you feel inadequate, Mags. Men are only worth their penises, and you can buy one of those.”

“That’s because she has,” Hannah says, taking a jab at her.

Monroe smiles. “I have a collection. And whenever you want it done right, I’ll let you borrow one.”

Someone squeezes the back of my neck. “Hey, Magnolia Bud.”

Charlie shoves up against the back of my shoulder. He has a pretty, petite woman by his side.
 

“What are you doing here?” I ask.
 

On one hand, I’m surprised to see him, but on the other, I’m not. Charlie roams aimlessly, having no job and no responsibilities whatsoever. He always has a new chick on his arm. His tastes vary.
 

Tonight it’s a beautiful Asian woman with a slight frame. Her lips are aglow with bright red lipstick, but other than that, she wears no makeup. She’s exquisite. I’ve seen him with very dark African women with lengthy legs and flawless skin. I’ve seen him with women who are paler than me. Then there are all the women in between. I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.
 

“I’m in town for a while. Hey, can we talk?”

I sigh. “I already know what you want.”

“Lily, use your hot ass to clear us a space at the bar. I need to have words with my cousin.”

Cleo gasps, offended as if he was speaking to her.

“She’s your family and you don’t fucking introduce me? You prick,” Lily says. Suddenly, she’s not the delicate flower that I thought she was.

Charlie squeezes her tiny butt cheek. “Just do it, sexy.”

She huffs but spins and moseys along. Lily’s wearing a thin sheath dress with no bra and thong panties. She can get away with it because she’s petite. I would look X-rated in that outfit.

Cleo blows a disdainful breath through her nose. “You are the worst kind of man, Charlie Lord!”

Charlie gives her a fake smile. “Cleo, good to see you too!”
 

She rolls her eyes.
 

“Hannah. Monroe,” he says, acknowledging them.

Both of them throw him the cold shoulder. They’ve seen Charlie at his worst. They’ve seen him whip it out to piss in corners. Once they went out with me in the middle of the night to find him after Jack called me. He was worried because somebody Jack knew said they’d seen Charlie fighting with the bouncers at the Pink Diamond Club and then stumble into an alley nearby. Jack couldn’t go collect him because he was in Hong Kong on business. So I had to do it, and he insisted that I didn’t go out alone. I called up all of my girlfriends, and we went looking for Charlie. We found him passed out in an alley near 2
^nd
Avenue. He was smashed, bruised, and covered in his own piss. Come to think of it, I don’t think my girlfriends have ever seen him sober. I don’t think he’s been sober since high school!

He moves his mouth next to my face, and his one hundred fifty-proof breath blows me away. “Here’s the deal, Mags. I need to stay at your place for a few days in a few days.”

“You mean after you ditch, what’s her name, Lily?” I snarl. “When are you going to grow up?”
 

“Last time I checked, we’re the same age. If you’re a grown-up, then so am I, Magnolia Bud.”

“Stop calling me that. And age doesn’t make the man.”

“Yes or no?” he snaps.

“What the hell? Do you think I’m actually going to say no?”

“No.”

I shake my head. “What if I say no? Then what?”

“You should say no,” Cleo says from across the table. She’s been following our little tête-à-tête.

Charlie ignores her. “I have a key.”

“I know you do. It’s my mom’s flat, not mine. If it were mine, I’d lock your ass out every time.”

He kisses my cheek. I cringe away from his lips.
 

“See you in a few, Magnolia Bud.” He stomps off before I can call him Chuck.
 

Monroe snorts while looking away from me, but that’s her only reaction to me succumbing to Charlie’s request. Their silence speaks louder than words. They’ve accused Jack and me of enabling “Chuck.” The more we do for him, the worse off he is.
 

Yes, he’s infuriating, but he’s like a brother to me. I still have hope that one day he’ll ditch the booze and the broads and do something with his life. I can’t drop the ball before that happens. Lord forbid something terrible happens and we lose him forever.

We finish our drinks, and I scarf down two orders of shrimp tempura. I leave exactly an hour later and walk fast to the apartment.
 

I almost strip out of my suit and drop it on the floor, but the cleaning lady left a sticky note on my door that says, “Do not leave your clothes lying around like a child. You are a grown up.” Okay, I deserve that. So I pull off my suit in the bedroom, hang it up, shower, and set the alarm for four thirty a.m. I fall on top of the bed, curl into a ball, and fall directly to sleep.

The alarm seems to buzz seconds after I close my eyes, but I’m not drowsy. I hit the ground running. Brush teeth. Wash face. Eat breakfast. Put on the black suit. Grab keys.
 

I’m on my way to the garage ten blocks east to get the “house” car when my cell phone rings. “Hello,” I say without looking at the name or number.

“Maggie, it’s Vincent.”

I practically lose it. “Um, what do you need? I mean, how can I help you?” Damn, that didn’t come out right.

“I’ve arranged for three cars to drive everyone to the event. There’s space for you and Linda.”

“But I’m already at my garage.”

“It’s better if you ride with us. You’ll be insured under our policy.”

“Oh.” That makes sense. “Okay.”

I trek twenty blocks to the office. Vincent is waiting in front of the main entrance by himself. He raises his hand to signal the driver standing next to a black limousine with tinted windows as soon as he sees me.
 

“Good morning.” I use my chipper voice.

“Good morning.” He doesn’t look or sound happy to see me. He opens the car door. “After you.”

I scurry over, look inside, and stop before I get in. “It’s just you and me?”
 

“The others rode out in the other cars.”

“What about Linda?”

“She’s with the others.”

I can do this. He’s merely my boss, and I must remember that. We both get in, and Vincent sits directly across from me, facing the back window. I turn on my laptop and try to concentrate on refining my pitch for End of March Powder in Aspen. Vincent works quietly on his laptop too, but I feel him concentrating on me. It’s barely six o’clock in the morning on a Saturday, and because of roadwork and street closures, traffic moves at a crawl.
 

“So what are you working on?” he asks.

I look at him. He has gorgeous angles to his face, both angelic and manly. “Um, just an idea for a meeting I’m having with Lena on Monday.”
 

“A meeting about what?”

“An event for the IK App.”

He smiles slightly. “I’m here right now, and I’m all ears.” He lifts a finger. “But first, do you need coffee or anything to eat before we climb on the expressway?”

I shake my head spastically because he put me on the spot. “No. I’m fine.”

“If you did want coffee, then how would you take it?”

I frown. Strange question. “Um, a French roast.”

“Nothing creamy and sugary?”

“If you mean designer coffee, then no. I drink black coffee with half of one packet of sugar.”

He knocks on the window separating the front of the car from the back. “I need you to stop at the C-cup Café on 97
^th
.” Vincent slips him a crisp fifty-dollar bill. “Get two large coffees. One French roast and a packet of sugar and one regular black coffee.” He focuses on me. “Do you eat bagels?”