by Lauren Rowe
“Don’t do it,” I whisper.
“He will.”
Jonas still hasn’t replied.
“Hang tough, man,” I whisper. “Fight the good fight.”
“He’s toast,” Kat replies.
“Stand strong,” I whisper.
“He’s a goner.”
“Well? Will you be at my mercy or not?” Sarah prods him. “What do you say?”
“He says yes,” Kat says.
“Definitely,” I agree.
“Hmm.” Jonas walks slowly toward Sarah like she’s pulling him on a string. “What do I say?” he says softly. When he reaches Sarah, he takes her face in his hands and whispers to her, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. Clearly, whatever it is, he’s saying it with passion.
“Really, you should owe me at least a hundred bucks,” Kat whispers. “Are you always this stupid, or just when it comes to women?”
“How was I supposed to know Sarah’s a terrorist like you?”
“Who do you think taught her all her tricks?” Kat says.
We both giggle.
Jonas and Sarah are whispering to each other and kissing like they’re the only two people in the room.
“Hey, PG,” I say, leaning into Kat. “Why’d you look like you were gonna have a stroke when Henn said it might take five days before he’s able to crack The Club’s system?”
She waves me off. “Oh nothing.”
“Tell me. You looked like you were gonna throw up right then.”
“Which isn’t an unusual look for me, unfortunately.” She shoots me an adorable smile. “Sorry about your shoes again.”
I chuckle. “No worries. What’s going on?”
She rolls her eyes. “I just, you know, I’ve got a job. Bills to pay. I don’t have enough vacation days to cover me staying in Vegas that much longer. If it takes five days for us to complete this ‘mission,’ whatever the heck it is, I’ll probably have to quit my job. Or maybe take an unpaid leave, if they’ll let me, I dunno. But it’s okay. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away if Sarah needs me here. It’s a no-brainer. Don’t worry about it.”
Twenty-Four
Kat
By the time the second round of room service arrives at Josh’s suite, Henn, Josh, and I have been extracting and analyzing information off the bad guys’ computers and phone for almost five hours straight.
“Woot!” I squeal when the room service guy spreads the plates of goodies on a glass table in the middle of the suite. “Now this is my idea of heaven on earth.”
We all gather around the table, drooling at the decadent food in front of us.
“Yummalicious,” I say, rubbing my hands together with glee. “Everything looks so tantalizing, it’s hard to decide where to start.”
“That’s exactly what women say when they throw themselves at me,” Henn says. “Where. To. Start?”
I laugh.
Henn considers the various plates of dessert in front of him. “It’s a no-brainer—chocolate cake is the clear entry-point.”
“Careful. Chocolate cake is a gateway drug,” Josh says.
“I’ll risk it,” Henn says.
“I like the way you think, Henn. YOLO, right?” I shoot Josh a wink and he smiles.
“Slide that plate between us, Kitty Kat,” Henn says. “We’ll share.”
I hand Henn a fork and slide the cake plate between us. “Josh? You wanna succumb to death by chocolate with us?”
“Nah, I’m a cheesecake man, through and through. Send that bad boy down here.”
Henn slides the cheesecake across the table toward Josh.
“Hey, Josh, shoot that apple pie over to papa,” Henn says, a huge bite of chocolate cake stuffed in his mouth.
“Here you go, papa,” Josh says.
“Oh no, did they forget the ice cream?” I ask. “Please, God, no.”
“It’s right here,” Henn says, shoving the bowl of ice cream at me. “Save your prayers for world hunger or curing cancer.”
“Or Seahawks games,” Josh adds.
I laugh.
When our eating frenzy has slowed down a bit, we lean back in our chairs, patting our stomachs.
“That hit the spot,” I say. “Thinking so hard really works up an appetite. Who knew?”
Henn laughs.
“I don’t know how you do it day after day, Henn,” I say. “Just a few hours of thinking hard and my brain hurts.”
“It’s not thinking hard for Henn. Like I keep saying, he’s a fucking genius,” Josh says.
“Thanks, man.”
“So what’s next, boss?” Josh asks.
“We send all the data we’ve extracted through translation software and hope whatever comes out the other side leads us to our next rabbits to chase.”
“How long ’til you crack into their system, you think?” Josh asks.
“There’s no way to know for sure, but I’m guessing just a couple days. Maybe four or five, outside.”
My stomach turns over and my chest tightens. Damn. I’m definitely gonna have a problem keeping my job if this takes much longer than another day or two. I glance up at Josh and he’s staring at me intently. I half-smile at him, but I’m suddenly wracked with anxiety.
“I tell you one thing, though,” Henn says. “Having you guys helping me out tonight sure sped things up a ton. Probably shaved a couple days off.”
“It was amazing watching you work,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s what all the pretty girls say, Kitty Kat.”
I laugh. “I’m sure they do, Henny.”
“Actually, no, they don’t. That was humor borne of pain.”
“That’s all humor is,” Josh says. “The flipside of pain.”
“Hey, no deep conversations allowed here,” I say. “Only superficial banter, please. And cake.”
“Amen,” Josh says. “No argument from me.”
“Henn, I can’t imagine why girls aren’t tackling you to the ground as you walk down the sidewalk,” I say. “You’re obviously the total package.”
“Why, thank you.”
“Which means whatever’s not working for you can be traced to whatever you’re doing or not doing to get their attention. What’s your go-to move to close the deal, if you know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. That’s the problem. I have no idea what you mean.”
I shoot a worried look at Josh. “The patient is flatlining, doctor. We need the crash cart.”
Josh laughs. “He’s too nice—that’s the problem,” Josh says. “Just dick it up a little bit, Henn, and women will be elbowing each other in the earholes to get to you, I guarantee you.”
“‘Dick it up’?” I repeat.
“Absolutely. There’s a time and place for nice and sensitive and sweet—and a time and place for dicking it up. And something tells me Henn needs to introduce more dick into his repertoire.”
“That’s your advice for attracting women? ‘Dick it up’?”
“Absolutely.” He winks at Henn. “Trust me, man. Just throw a big ol’ steaming pile of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ on every woman who crosses your path for the next month, and you’ll have to beat the babes off with a stick.”
“Sorry, Josh,” Henn says. “No offense, but your advice is utterly worthless to me. When you dick it up, I’m sure women wanna birth your babies—but if I were to dick it up even a little bit, women would just call me a dick and walk away.”
“That’s not true, man,” Josh says. “When it comes to women, certain things are tried and true, no matter who you are.”
I sit back in my chair, smirking at Josh. “Please, oh wise and powerful one, tell us more nuggets of wisdom about how any man, no matter who he is, can bag a babe.”
“I’d be glad to. Well, for one thing, women think they wanna be chased—that’s what all the movies and books tell ’em they want—but they don’t. Not really.”
“We don’t?” I ask. “Huh. Fascinating.”
; “It’s true. You chase a woman too hard, she thinks you’re desperate—and women can’t stand desperate.” He grins at me. “That’s rule number one. If you do the equivalent of driving to her house and holding a boom box over your head, you might as well hand her your dick and balls in a Ziplock baggie, too, ’cause you’re not gonna need ’em any more.” He leans back, looking at me with smoldering eyes. “You always gotta leave her wondering, keep her guessing—at least a little bit.” He winks at me. “That’s how to keep her wanting more.”
I lean forward, my eyes locked on his. “Oh, so, for instance, if a guy’s got a business trip to New York for a whole freaking week, then he should just text brief messages to a woman like, ‘Hey’ and ‘What’s up?’—just enough to let the babe feel like he’s thinking about her but brief and superficial enough to keep her wondering if he’s even interested at all?”
Josh grins broadly. “Exactly. Let her wonder if you give a shit or not. Keep her off-balance. And then just sit back and watch her eat out of the palm of your hand the next time she sees you.”
“Hardly,” I say.
“Dude. What the fuck are you two talking about?” Henn asks.
Josh ignores him. “But you have to be wary. Because she’s a demon spawn and she’ll start fucking with you—doing shit like demanding to see something you’ve never shown anyone, something that’s none of her fucking business—all while acting like what she’s asking for is perfectly reasonable and that you’re the crazy one if you say no.”
“Interesting. Maybe she’s not playing head games, though—ever think of that? Maybe you’re reading the situation wrong, completely misunderstanding her motivations.”
“No, that’s just bullshit justification for sociopathic behavior.”
“Sociopathic?”
“Borderline.”
“Wow.”
“The bottom line is that she’s just a goddamned terrorist—which means that on principle alone, you must never, ever give in to her unreasonable demands. You just gotta keep your eye on the prize—the big picture—and stay strong.”
“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Henn asks.
“And the big picture is . . .?” I ask, completely ignoring Henn. “Pray tell?”
“You don’t know?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, if you haven’t figured it out by now, then I can’t help you.”
I squint at Josh. “So that’s the sum total of your advice on how to bag a babe, huh? Dick it up, dig in your heels, don’t act desperate, and keep your eye on the prize?”
“Yeah, pretty much. That and always wear cologne. Women are highly sensory creatures. You gotta overwhelm all their senses—sight, sound, smell, touch. It’s primal.” One side of his mouth tilts up.
“Okay, this I understand,” Henn says. “Wear cologne. That’s something I can actually do.”
“Well, as long as it’s the right cologne, yes,” I say. “Wear the wrong cologne, and you’re sunk. The wrong cologne is worse than no cologne at all.”
That cocky grin isn’t going anywhere. “Oh really? Well, what about mine, for instance? Right or wrong?”
I hate to give him the satisfaction, but the truth is the truth. “Very, very right.” I say. I inhale deeply as if I’m taking in his scent from across the table.
Josh barks the name of his cologne at Henn. “Write that down, man. You heard the woman—she likes my cologne a lot.” He licks his lips, assessing me. “Actually, you know what, Henn? If you’re gonna get advice on how to bag a babe from anyone, you should get it from Kat. She’s probably the world’s foremost expert.”
I narrow my eyes. What does that mean? Did he just call me a slut? Or does he think I’m bisexual? “No, I think Josh has lots and lots more experience bagging babes than me.”
Josh rolls his eyes. “Testy, testy. Jeez. What I mean is that you’re a babe, so best to ask you. Actually, you’re the best of both worlds. You’ve got a vagina (so I’m told—I’m still not sure I believe it) and you’ve got four brothers, too. So as a woman and an honorary dude, you can give our beloved Henny the female and male perspectives on babe-baggery. Shit, with those credentials, you could probably teach a Learning Annex seminar on the subject, maybe even a twelve-week course.”
I smile broadly. “Thank you for recognizing my expertise.”
Josh nods. “Plus, you’re demonic as hell. If he’s gonna learn the ropes, best if he learns from an instructor who blows shit up, rather than one who plays by the rules. No one ever learned a damned thing from following The Rules. Ever. Am I right?”
I shoot him my most demonic look. “Well, actually, yeah, we’re definitely in agreement about that.”
Josh grins.
“Well, all right, then.” I turn my attention to Henn, popping up from my chair. “Get up, Henny. We’re gonna role-play.” I let my eyes drift suggestively to Josh. “One of my very favorite things to do, actually.” I wink.
The smoldering look on Josh’s face tells me he understands my meaning just fine.
“Come on, Henn. Get up.”
Henn stands warily.
“Okay. We’re at a bar. You see me from across the room. You’re interested in me. Go.”
“Go?”
“Yeah, go. Do what you’d normally do when you see a babe at a bar.”
“You want me to do what I usually do when I see a really pretty girl at a bar?”
“Correct.”
Henn shrugs, beelines to the front door of the suite, opens the door, and leaves the room. Josh and I look at each other and burst out laughing. After a beat, there’s a soft knock at the front door and Josh strides to it, still laughing.
“Thanks,” Henn says, re-entering the room. “Damn door locked behind me.”
I’m laughing so hard, I’m crying. “Oh, Henny, you’re hilare.”
“I think maybe my strategy needs a little fine-tuning,” Henn says.
“Just a little,” I agree. “Okay, so approach me. Come on. Pretend I’m a girl you’re interested in.”
“Well, that’s not hard to do,” he mutters.
“Come on. Just be yourself.”
Henn stares at me for a long minute and then throws up his hands. “I have no fucking idea what to do.” He plops himself into a chair.
“Don’t overthink it. The truth is, it doesn’t actually matter what you say to a woman—it’s all in your attitude. You know how in public speaking, they say to imagine your audience naked?”
“Yeah. You’re saying I should imagine you naked? Oops. Too late. I just did.” His face turns bright red. “Confession time: that wasn’t the first time I’ve done that. Sorry.”
I laugh. “No, no, no. Don’t imagine the babe naked—you’ll get too flustered. Instead, just imagine your dick is so big, it drags on the ground.” I glance at Josh pointedly and he shoots me a naughty smile.
“Do you have any advice that’s a bit more concrete than that?” Henn asks. “Imagining my dick is dragging on the ground seems a bit esoteric.”
I laugh. “Okay, I’ve got a great rule of thumb for you,” I say. “Every time you open your mouth to talk to a woman you’re interested in—a babe you wanna bag—ask yourself this question: ‘Is what I’m about to say more or less likely to get me a blowjob?’ If the answer is yes, then say it—but if the answer is no, then shut the fuck up.”
Josh bursts out laughing.
“Whoa,” Henn says.
“Words to live by,” Josh says. “Did one of your brothers come up with that little gem?”
“No. That’s all me.”
“Damn,” Josh says. “I think we just discovered who of the three of us is the real fucking genius. Damn.”
“If all men knew that one simple rule,” I continue, “the world would be a much happier place.”
“Fuck yeah,” Josh agrees. “For everyone.” He spreads his legs and reaches under the table, presumably adjusting his dick in his pants. “What other tips you
got, Madame Professor? I must admit, I’m finding your lesson plan highly educational.”
“That’s it. I’m done talking. Now it’s time for Henny to learn through doing. Come on, Henny. Get up. It’s role-play time.”
Henn scowls at me.
“Oh, come on. This is for your own good. Try to pick me up, using all the advice I just gave you.”
Henn grimaces.
“Get up. Come on,” I say.
Henn begrudgingly stands.
“Okay. We’re in a bar. I’m a babe you’re interested in bagging. Go.”
“Bars aren’t really my thing, actually. I have a lot more success at places like, you know, Starbucks. Gimme a woman with a laptop in Starbucks, preferably a cute little brunette with glasses, and I’m Don Juan.”
“Okay. Fine. We’re in Starbucks. I’ve got a laptop. Go.”
“Brown hair and glasses?”
“You bet. Now go.”
“Well, is your laptop a Mac or a PC?”
I make a face. “Whichever. That’s not important. Go.”
“Not important? Are you mad?”
“Okay, fine.” I roll my eyes. “A Mac. Now, go.”
“Can you be more specific, please? What model? A Mac Book Pro? Or a Mac Book Air? And how many gigabytes of memory?”
“Holy Filibuster, Batman!” I shout.
Josh laughs.
“No more stalling, Henn,” I say. “Come on. Goooooooooo.”
“Fine.” He closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them, he’s clearly got his Casanova face on. “Um. Oh, hi there, pretty brunette lady with glasses. I’m Hennessy. I was wondering, is your name ‘Wi Fi’ by any chance?”
I make a face. “Is my name ‘Wi Fi’?” I ask, not comprehending his meaning.
“Yeah, because I really feel a connection to you.”
We all laugh together.
“I told you, I have no idea,” Henn says, smiling shyly. “The initial approach is the hardest thing for me.”
“You just have to act like it’s a foregone conclusion,” Josh says. “Make her think it’s her lucky day you’ve graced her with your attention.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, this I gotta see. Show us how you do it, Playboy.”
“Oh, you wanna see how I do it, huh?”