“Whatever,” I mumble and step back onto the sidewalk to rejoin the footrace.
Musketeer is a new pop-up restaurant without a planned expiration date. In New York, the buzz and décor get us through the door, but the quality of the food and service keep us coming back. So far, Musketeer is surviving. We’ll keep coming as long as the chef keeps the doors open—and they could close on any given day. That’s the beautiful nature of the beast.
Once I’m inside, I give the hostess Cleo’s name. She immediately has me escorted by a young boy, who probably models in his spare time, to a table. The executive producer of the number-one daytime talk show rarely has to wait for a table in New York or L.A. as long as her assistant makes the reservation in advance.
Paper-mache lamps in every color hang over the tables. Every single table is occupied. There’s a line out the door. People are hanging out, sipping on cocktails and socializing as if nobody’s waiting for them to get their asses out of the chair and let someone else sit and enjoy a good meal. I can afford to be critical since it’s only going to be Cleo and me.
But as soon as I see the other faces seated at the table with Cleo, I realize there’s no way in the world I’m going to eat and run—not tonight! I do a happy dance and throw up my arms. It’s Monroe! She leaps out of her seat, and we give each other a knock-down, drag-out hug.
“You’re back!” I exclaim.
“You look different, Maggie!”
I lift a finger. “Don’t start with the vulgarity.”
“You look fucked,” she says anyway.
I shake my head and walk over to give Cleo and Hannah monster-sized hugs too. We have a lot to catch up on. We start with Cleo, who shows us her engagement ring. Perry asked her to marry him yesterday.
“I said maybe and accepted my piece of the rock.” She guides the ring around the table for all of us to get a look. “It will be a very, very long engagement.”
“Just marry him already,” Monroe says. “It’s like you’re already married anyway. At least you’ll get a tax benefit for fucking legally. He makes more money than you, so your life can only get better.”
“You marry him then!” Cleo retorts.
Monroe huffs and rolls her eyes. “Stop fighting it and do it. All right, what’s going on with you, Hannah?”
“None of your goddamn business. Next!”
We burst out in laughter.
“You’re dumping him already?” Monroe asks.
“No. That’s not it. Fucking next!”
“Then what is it?” I ask.
Hannah takes a deep breath and forces it out. The suspense is killing us.
“What?” I demand.
Hannah shrugs and lifts her arms in sweet surrender. “I like him.”
“Is he good in bed?” Monroe asks.
“He’s okay,” Hannah answers in a lackluster tone. “He hasn’t given me an orgasm yet. I don’t think he knows how.”
“Deal breaker,” Monroe blurts out.
“Sex is not the be-all, end-all in a relationship, Monroe,” Cleo says.
“Is that so?” Monroe points her thumb in my direction. “Ask Miss Little House on the Prairie if that’s true. She’s been having mind-blowing sex all week.”
They exaggerate gasps of shock.
I flip all three of them the bird. “It wasn’t all week. It was three and a half days.”
They erupt in laughter.
“And Vincent Adams too. He’s hot,” Monroe adds.
“He’s engaged,” I say before they make more of it.
“Engaged isn’t married,” Hannah points out.
“I’m engaged, and I agree with Hannah,” Cleo says. “If Perry falls in love with someone else before we’re married, then he’s free to go.” She pets her ring like Gollum does in Lord of the Rings. “But I’m keeping the precious.”
Hannah wrinkles her eyebrows at Cleo. “Okay, that’s just creepy.”
“Engaged is a promise,” I say.
We all look at Monroe, waiting for her point of view.
“I’m with none of you,” she says. “Who gives a shit? I’m just happy you broke the drought and in a major way.”
I bang the table with my fists. “Next! Since we’re mentioning my sex life, did you tell Cleo and Hannah about yours?”
“Nope.” Monroe searches over both of her shoulders. “Where’s the waitress? I’m starving.”
“What about her sex life?” Hannah flexes her eyebrows curiously.
“The big news in my life has nothing to do with sex. There’s a bidding war to buy the rights to my book and make it into a movie. Some venture capitalists offered double what the production company was going to pay. Now the production company is trying to convince me to remain with them because they have the experience and what not. And then”—she lifts a hand—“I fucked Chuck Lord too.”
We all erupt in laughter so loud that nearly everyone in the restaurant looks at us. That kind of attention is hard to get in Manhattan.
“And it was amazing,” she adds. “I’ve caught the potato chip virus. After one time, I’ve been wanting more.”
“No way.” I shake my finger at her. “I spoke to Chuck about it. Wait until he gets a career and some responsibility. Then by all means, screw him as many times as you like.”
“I have to agree with Mags on this,” Cleo says.
“I second that,” Hannah says. “But you still have to tell us how was it.”
“Not while I’m at the table!” I protest.
Monroe cups her hand around her mouth and whispers, “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Hannah’s eyes expand. “That good?”
“Oh, my, Han.” She sighs. “We’ve been trying to fuck the wrong brother.”
“No way. I knew a girl who got to fuck Jack Lord, and she said she came so hard that she nearly passed out, five times in one long three-hour session.”
“Well, then maybe it’s a genetic super-power.”
“Hey!” I bark. “I’m still at the table!”
Monroe motions zipping her lips.
I nod once. “Thank you.”
We order dinner and talk some more about what’s going on in our lives. We say nothing else about Charlie, Jack, or Vincent for the rest of the night. I make it home by eleven p.m. and see that my computer is still on. When I go to turn it off, I see a message from Vincent that says, “Where the hell did you go?”
I send him a reply. “I went to dinner with my girlfriends.”
I power down the laptop, take a shower, and go directly to bed.
Either my head is ringing or that’s my cell phone. I open my eyes. It’s 5:30 a.m., and it’s my cell phone.
“Hello?” I sound hoarse.
“Good morning, sexy.”
I drape my legs over the side of the bed and drop back onto the mattress. “Vincent?”
“Where did you go for dinner last night?”
“Musketeer.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Always.” I yawn. “Do you know how early it is? My alarm clock isn’t going to buzz for another hour. Then I snooze for thirty minutes after that.”
His airy chuckle takes the edge off a little. “Well, babe, I called for business, but it’s good to learn that you’re not a morning person.”
“Definitely not a morning person.” I close my eyes to once again indulge in his chuckle.
“I got an email from Lena. There’s another position open. We were waiting to fill it, but she believes we should move you into that chair and move Linda into yours.”
I sit up. “What’s the other position?” Excitement swirls through my veins.
“Director of Strategic Marketing. You’ll work more closely with me.”
“How is this any different from what Lena already does?”
“It’s very different.”
“Do tell.”
“Lena oversees marketing operations. You’ll be content strategy.”
I narrow one eye. “Vincen
t…”
“Maggie…”
“Did you make that job up just so you could keep me close?”
“No, I did not. I’m insulted.”
“You don’t sound insulted,” I say.
“If you were here or I were there, I would punish you.”
“So you want me to be your marketing strategist?” I need to refocus our conversation. He’s making me horny.
“Do you accept?”
“I would be a fool not to!”
“Are you smiling?”
“I am.” My grin is so wide my face feels stuck. “Thank you for my life, Vincent.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We’ve only just begun.”
I let the tranquility that arises with the start of a brand-new day cuddle me. For one moment, I let myself believe Vincent is free to love me and I him. The feeling fades fast.
“Well, it’s time for me to get ready for work,” I say with a sigh.
“But I’m not ready to let you go.”
I lie back down with the phone against my ear. “What else do you want to talk about?”
“You have a birthday coming up.”
“Did you read my personnel file?”
“Would you sue me if I said I did?”
“I could do that?” I ask.
“You could sue my ass for a dozen things. I admit to sexually harassing you.”
I laugh. I spend the next hour answering a barrage of questions. Where’s my favorite vacation spot? Why? What’s the first car I bought? Why? Why do I always argue with Charlie? Then he wants to know how I met all of my friends.
“Are you an only child?” he asks.
“I am. What about you?”
“I have three sisters, all younger, but if you ask them, they know way more than I do.”
“Ask any woman, and she’ll tell you the same.”
I brush my teeth and wash my face as he recounts the commotion of growing up in a house with four women. I’m dressed and ready to leave by the time we force ourselves to end the call. Damn. The ache of missing him returns.
Once I make it to work, I trek straight to Lena’s office. She’s already at her desk, sipping a large cup of caramel-flavored designer coffee. I can smell the sweetness in the air as she types away on her laptop.
I knock on her doorframe. “Morning!” I’m jovial, energized by my conversation with Vincent.
Lena looks up. “I assume you’re buzzing because you’ve heard the news?”
“Vincent called me this morning.” She watches me with a strange expression. “To give me a heads up.” I use my formal voice.
After a long pause, Lena invites me in to have a seat. My new position is straightforward. I’ll oversee the marketing conceptualization, planning, and implementation of all apps and online and print products. I’ll dabble in televisual here and there, but it won’t be my main focus. They’re bringing in someone with television experience for that.
“So this was your idea?” I ask. I still don’t believe that.
“Yes, it was.”
I narrow one eye. “Why me?”
“The tweaks you made at the Razor Link Polo Match resulted in slightly over a million downloads of the IK App in a two-day period. We caught professional women twenty-five to forty-nine. The way you and Linda pulled those meetings together, created a solid plan and budget, and put them both in my hands before leaving on Friday was extraordinary.”
“Thanks. We were just doing our job.”
“That’s another reason why you’re perfect for this position. You speak in the plural. You know what it takes to be successful, and that’s using all of your resources to the best of your ability. We would’ve never known how much of a star Linda was if it weren’t for you. You’re not afraid to nourish talent.”
Suddenly Lena looks over my head to glare at whoever’s standing in the doorway. “What do you want?”
I didn’t know she had such a bite. I turn quickly to see who changed the angel into a demon. It’s Robert Tango.
“The requisition for the company plane?” He grins. “I’m using it.”
Her lips clench. “Fine. We’ll put the teams on commercial flights.”
“Always so hasty,” he says as if he’s mocking her. “They could join me. I only wanted to let you know that I’ll be on the flight.” He glances at me.
“There are twelve seats. You would make thirteen passengers,” she says.
“Wait,” I butt in. “If this is for the End of March Powder and Linda is taking over my position, then she’s capable of handling the event on her own.” If Robert’s going, then I’d rather not.
“No, I still want you there,” Lena grumbles.
I see nothing but pure loathing for Robert in her eyes. I wonder if they slept together and he dumped her. I never guessed her to be the kind of woman who would get involved with a slippery guy like Robert. She strikes me as the most secure woman on God’s green earth. Robert would have to be more of a man to land someone of her caliber.
“Yes, Maggie, I still need you there running the show,” Robert says. “Tomorrow morning. Teterboro. Six a.m.” He disappears before I can respond.
“My soon-to-be ex-husband,” Lena mumbles.
I widen my eyes and gasp. “You’re the ex-wife?” I’m flabbergasted.
“I’m the stupid bitch who said ‘I do’ to that prick.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Last night, Lena’s ex-husband kissed me and groped my ass. I wonder if anyone saw us walk out together. Now’s the time to come clean. “Robert and I went to school together.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know all about your connection to Robert and Vincent.”
“You do?” That’s news to me.
“Vincent and I had a chat on Friday night after you returned from Aspen. He came to the office.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not upset. When Vincent Adams comes for you, it’s hard to resist.”
I’m hit by a sense of doom. “Did he come for you?”
She laughs so hard that I chuckle with her out of discomfort. “Absolutely not! He’s not despicable like my soon-to-be ex-husband,” she spits. “Vincent and I had a pretty good talk Friday. Could I give you some advice?”
“Sure.”
“Keep your distance until he figures things out. If I were a gambling woman, I’d put every dime I had on you. But he’s under a lot of pressure. If Rossetto demands a payoff, then we won’t survive for more than a month. That’s why Robert’s slithering around you. He wants to make damn sure you don’t sway Vincent to call off the engagement. Be careful. Robert’s also very convincing.”
I pause to read the depth of warning in her eyes.
Linda is blown over by her promotion. We hug, congratulate each other, and pick up where we left off on Friday. Now we’ll have two new assistants to help us.
I’m home by midnight and so exhausted that I shed my clothes at the door, drag into the bedroom, set the alarm for four a.m., crawl under the covers, and fall asleep.
Vincent is the star of my dreams. He’s lounging on a beach and sipping on a bright blue fruity cocktail, the kind most women like to drink. Gabrielle rises out of a tranquil, crystal-clear ocean and strolls across the soft sand toward him. She’s sexy and dripping wet. He sets the drink on a square table that appeared out of nowhere. She sits across his lap.
“Did you drown her?” he asks.
“Yes, but no more sluts, Vincent. Or next time I’ll drown you.” She chuckles at her own dry humor.
“Don’t worry, baby, you’re the only one I need. I love you.”
They’re distracted by an alarm. They twist and turn, trying to figure out where the noise is coming from. Then it’s quiet again.
Gabrielle sighs. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
“There’s no more Maggie,” Vincent says.
Chapter 14
Dancing the Tango
I wake up coughing and gasping. My cell phone is lit. I missed a call fr
om Vincent. I jump when the gadget vibrates after he leaves a message. It’s only three o’clock in the morning, but I’m too disturbed by my dream to return his call or go back to sleep.
Thirty minutes later, he calls again. Instead of answering, I close my eyes. When I open them again, the alarm is ringing. There’s no time to snooze. I take a quick but effective shower and put on a comfortable pair of pants and sweater for traveling. I pack warm clothes, gobble down leftovers from Musketeer, and hit the door.
I’m ready to hail a cab to Teterboro, but a window rolls down on the black car parked in front of the entrance of my building.
Robert’s head pokes out. “Need a ride?”
How bold of him to just show up here! I wave him off. “Nope. I’ll take a cab.”
“The hell you will.” He jumps out and grabs my suitcase. “Get in the car, Maggie.”
I tug my suitcase back and lift my other hand to hail the next taxi. “No.”
A car stops, but Robert waves it on. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asks.
“You’re Lena’s ex-husband, and you shoved your tongue down my throat.” I raise a finger to make the next point. “And you told me you wanted to bang me. I’m on Lena’s side. If she hates you, then I hate you.”
Robert has a silly, giddy grin. “Get in the car. We’re going to be late. We have two other people to pick up. This isn’t all about you, me, and our future fuck.”
I shake my head. “You and I are not going to do that.”
“We’ll see.”
“There’s no ‘we’ll see.’”
“Just get in, okay?”
I tilt my head. “You said we’re picking up others?”
“Yes.”
“Are we really?”
There’s that cunning grin. “No, but get in anyway.”
“Really? It’s that easy for you to lie?”
“Maggie, get in the car. I won’t touch you.” He holds up his hands. “I promise.”
I sigh. It’s just a ride to the airport, so I release my suitcase, and he takes it and whistles. The driver comes out of the car, shuffles around the back, and stuffs my suitcase into the trunk. I sit as far away from Robert as the seat will allow. I’m actually clinging to the door.
There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story (LOVE in the USA, #2) Page 14