By the end of the day, I was more than ready to get out of the office. I cleaned up, sent a few last emails, and headed over to Fisher’s. Fisher’s was the local happy hour bar that all the marketing jocks went to. I didn’t like any of those guys, but I had been going there for years to have that end-of-the- day drink, and I enjoyed my hour or two there after work. They had really good whiskey, and I had the perfect spot in the corner, away from everyone.
I never talked to the people that went there, and found that it was better that way, anyway. They were all young hotshots that would drool all over the chance to suck up to one of the owners of T&R Marketing. I was there to relax, not be bothered by someone else’s aspirations. I really only ever talked to the bartender, Tiffany. There was something about her that made me feel comfortable, and she wasn’t too bad on the eyes either.
“Hey there,” she said, handing me my usual glass of whiskey.
“Hey,” I said, cracking a smile. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” she said, turning as someone yelled out for her. “Sorry, give me a few and I’ll come talk.”
“Take your time,” I said with a grin, pulling the glass to my lips.
The guy at the bar was more than obnoxious, and I felt bad for Tiffany. I knew she chose to work there, but I didn’t know how she put up with it day in and day out. Tiffany was different than other women I met, and I couldn’t help but think that she was very hot. She was in her twenties, around five feet eight or so, with long, wavy mahogany brown hair, pouty lips, light green eyes, and curves that just slipped and slid down her body in the perfect way. I could tell that she took care of herself, and not for anyone other than her own interests. I liked that in a woman; it was sexy and refreshing that she didn’t care what everyone else thought.
I had thought about asking her out on a date more than once, but I was a little timid. Women in the city all ended up being the same exact way, more worried about Fashion Week than anything else. I knew she seemed different, but I didn’t want to take the chance. I always ended up deciding that I was better off just being on my own for the time being. I would meet someone one day, hopefully someone with a smile like Tiffany, and someone that shared my interests. She didn’t need to be a climber, but I was definitely not going to be settling down in the city. Who knew? Maybe I would just be satisfied with being lost alone in the wilderness.
Chapter Three
Tiffany
I sat in the chair by the window with my feet propped up, finishing up my cup of coffee. I was so glad that it was Saturday and I didn’t have to go into work that night. Instead, I was going through the photos that my parents had emailed me from their trip to Vermont. The scenery out there was so beautiful, with open landscapes, beautiful mountains, and gorgeous lake views. To say that I was jealous would be a complete and total understatement.
My jealousy wasn’t just because they were in such a gorgeous place, but because they just lived their lives however they wanted. Part of me, a big part of me, wished I could let go enough to do that. However, I knew that I was too grounded in the scrum of everyday life to be able to let go like that. The bills piled up, the money trickled in, and my days had become a cycle of the same thing over and over again. The only solace I had were my plans for the future, and that would take time to achieve.
Time was something I had at that moment, and money, well, it was slowly coming in. I wanted to be smart about my future, making sure I had everything I needed to move forward before taking the leap. The last thing I wanted, no matter how much I loved my parents, was to fail because I didn’t plan well enough. I was way too independent and stubborn to end up back in my parents’ house at 26-years-old, following them around on their adventures, regretting the steps I had made along the way.
I looked up, my thoughts fading into the background at the sound of a knock on the door.
“Hey,” I said, opening the door and letting my best friend, Posey, in.
“Still in your pajamas?”
“Hey, it’s my day off. I’ll do as I please,” I laughed.
Posey Wilkinson had been my best friend since I was five years old. She was the only reason I’d successfully navigated high school without running off to go hiking or something. When she went off to college at NYU, I stayed behind, and it was the longest four years of my life. So, when she graduated, I agreed to move out to the city with her to experience another way of life. She was a mid-level marketing associate at Creative Marketing, the largest firm in the city. She had similar interests as me, but was definitely career obsessed.
“I was just in the neighborhood and felt like coming to sit in your shoebox apartment in Brooklyn,” she laughed, looking around. “Why don’t you get a bigger place? You can afford it, and your job is solid.”
“I told you,” I smiled. “I have a plan, and the less rent I pay, the quicker I get to the end goal. Besides, I like it here. It’s cozy.”
“No kidding,” she said. “You can reach your toothbrush from your kitchen. Change your clothes. Our appointment is in like fifteen minutes.”
I jogged into my bedroom and reluctantly changed my clothes, pulling my hair up into a messy bun. We were going to get our hair done, something I hated, but Posey insisted on. They always tried to get me to do something wild with it, and every time, I refused.
When we got there, we sat down in chairs next to each other as the stylists started my trim and Posey’s color. She had always had red tints in her hair but had decided to go full red when she got to the city. She swore redheads had more fun.
“So, have you met anyone yet?”
“Not this again,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Do we always have to talk about my love life?”
“Of course, we do,” she laughed. “You’re not going to be young and tight forever, Tiffany. You need to get out there and start dating again.”
“Posey, we have this conversation every three weeks in this exact chair,” I said. “The men in this city are complete morons.”
“Amen, sister,” my stylist, Adam, chimed in.
“See? Seriously, you know me. I’m not the normal New York City girl,” I said. “None of them fit the bill for what I want in a man.”
“You don’t know what you want in a man,” she said.
“I know it’s not being someone’s arm-candy or housewife,” I said grumpily. “I need someone that at least understands my plans for the future.”
“You never get far enough on any date to even discuss it,” she said, glancing in the mirror at me.
“I can’t help that they’re all idiots,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest.
“They all can’t be idiots,” she laughed. “I could set you up with a guy from my office; he likes hiking. He’s from like Maine or something.”
“No, thanks,” I laughed. “Do you remember the last guy that you set me up with? He ended up paying for dinner and leaving with the waitress. Not to mention that he wore a button-up shirt from 1993 and said ‘bro,’ like fifteen times during our short conversation.”
“Oh, my God,” Posey said, laughing hard. “I totally forgot about that guy. What was his name? Elvis?”
“Elvin. And I’m sure he still lives in his mother’s basement.”
We laughed forever, sitting in that chair talking about the disastrous date. When we both quieted, I changed the subject, asking her about work and how her career was going. Thankfully, she accepted the change and didn’t push any further about setting me up with some guy that was from Maine. I was pretty sure she only thought he liked hiking because she had no idea what else people in Maine did.
As we talked, I smiled over at her, remembering that exact laugh from when we were growing up. We used to get into so much trouble together, sneaking off to go kayaking with friends of ours, ending up coming home at five in the morning, completely wasted. We were nature girls, not country girls, and Posey’s parents weren’t that much different than mine. I thought that’s why she was so career obsessed, she did
n’t see the beauty in the freedom that our parents had had. It was a kind of rebelling.
“My head feels lighter,” I said, shaking my hair as I waited to sign my receipt.
“It’s the dead weight you carry around with you,” Posey teased.
“Come on, let’s go grab lunch at that deli down the street that you like so much,” she said. “Though I can’t, for the life of me, understand why we go there and not the sheik restaurant across the street.”
“Because I’m a bartender,” I reminded her.
“Live a little,” she said, walking out of the salon and down the street toward the deli.
“I’m sorry, but living a little is more than just where I eat lunch,” I replied. “Besides, this place is awesome, and the owners remind me of Mom and Dad.”
“All the more reason to not eat there ...”
I laughed and shook my head as we arrived at the deli, walked up to the counter, and stared up at their board. We ordered our food, grabbed our drinks, and headed over to the small bar along the front window. We sat down, and I swiveled back and forth on the stool. Immediately, Posey launched into a description of some new guy that she had met and was currently dating. He sounded like a complete tool and I started to zone out on her.
The sounds of the city were clashing in my head, and I felt like I was starting to get claustrophobic again. It had been happening more and more lately, and now that it was spring, it was even worse. Spring was the time that everything was going on, the time that I needed to be in the woods, watching the trees bloom and the world come to life. Instead, I was sitting in a tiny deli on the East Side, eating expensive, sub-par food, watching the grass poke through the grass in the sidewalk.
I nodded my head at Posey to make her believe I was actually listening, then took a bite of the sandwich they’d just brought over and looked out the window. Across the street I saw a familiar face; it was Rob from the bar and he was standing outside, smoking a cigar with a couple other guys. They were in front of the fancy restaurant that Posey wanted to go to.
“Earth to Tiffany,” Posey said, looking over at me. “Have you heard a word that I have said?”
“Uh, yeah, Adam. Guy you’re dating now,” I repeated back to her. “Hot, rich, motivated, and just like every other tool in the city.”
“First of all, that is not true,” she said, slapping my arm. “And secondly, who is that guy across the street that you just cannot take your eyes off of? He looks like your type—beard, boots, and hipster pea coat on a warm spring day.”
“That’s Rob,” I said, laughing at her description of him. “And I don’t think you can count him as a hipster. He has, like, more money than God. He’s one of the owners of T&R.”
“Wait,” she said, squinting at him. “That’s the guy no one ever sees? Interesting. How do you know him?”
“He has a couple of whiskeys each day, after work,” I explained. “He’s been coming in every night for like five years now. He’s a welcome reprieve from the douchebags I have to deal with every night. Really tame for a man that owns the second largest marketing firm in the city.”
“Look at you, keeping up with the marketing world,” she said, nudging me.
“I have no choice; it’s all I hear all night at work,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You should ask him out.” Posey wagged her eyebrows.
“Who? Rob?”
“Yes, Rob,” she laughed. “I can totally see him opening up that coat and having suspenders, a denim button-up, and, like, a pocket watch or something underneath. He’s a hipster with a bank account. I think he looks like the perfect fit for you.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “He’s obvious, just like every other man in the city. That’s an expensive suit, and I bet those cigars cost more than a month’s rent for me.”
“Honey, that’s not hard to do,” she joked.
“Ha-ha.”
I couldn’t help but notice that while Rob sat there laughing with his rich friends, wearing a multi-thousand-dollar suit, he was still wearing those boots. They were hiking boots, and not extremely expensive ones, either. They looked like he had trekked a thousand miles in them, given how scuffed they were. It was a strange thing to see.
I sighed and turned back to Posey, switching the conversation back to her new boyfriend. Thinking any more about Rob was pointless, especially since I already knew how it would turn out. The last thing I needed in my life at the moment was drama or stress, which every relationship I had been in had brought. I needed to focus on my life, my plans, and my future. All a man would do at this point would be complicate things, and I was damn tired of complications. I needed peace and quiet, not romance and trouble.
Chapter Four
Rob
This suit was incredibly uncomfortable, and it annoyed me that I had to dress up for brunch. Troy had been very specific about me not wearing khakis to his and Melinda’s engagement brunch. He had specifically told me to wear this suit, which he had taken me to get tailored and fit when I realized wearing my everyday work attire to meetings with the shareholders wasn’t cutting it. I hated how what I wore made people think differently of my abilities to run a company. It was stupid, and I groaned to Troy about it for weeks afterward.
I pulled my coat closed and shook my head. I hated the fact that I was going to be stuck in wedding land for the seven months. Troy had begged me to be a groomsman in his wedding and I’d reluctantly agreed, knowing it would hurt his feelings if I said no. It wasn’t something he was crazy about, but Melinda was planning it and I had to just stand by and smile for the cameras.
I had always hated weddings, ever since I was ten and went to my first one. It kind of trampled my romantic idea about finding a woman to spend the rest of my life with. I wasn’t against marriage, just weddings. Marriage was something two people did to express their love and devotion to each other, not to 500 of their “closest” friends and family. When I eventually got married, I wanted it to be in nature, surrounded by a few friends on a beautiful fall day. I wanted it to mean something between us and not get lost in the planning and pomp and circumstance of it all.
I glanced down at my watch and grabbed my pea coat off the door, figuring maybe I would be more comfortable if I wore something that was more my style over top. I headed downstairs and brewed a cup of coffee, sitting down at the table to drink it in peace before I headed to the East Side to meet everyone. I knew that it was going to be a high energy event, something that could only be used to describe me when I was climbing, not in social situations.
I looked around the house, glad that the renovations were finally complete. I had moved out of downtown to the outskirts of the city into an old Cape Cod-style home that I’d restored myself. It had been my baby, the project that drew me away from my job and back to my own personal reality. I wasn’t a home makeover kind of guy or anything, but I could lose myself in doing things that required my attention to detail. It had taken me a while to finish everything, but now that it was done, I was kind of sad.
Just as I was taking the last sip of my coffee, I heard the car pull up out front and honk. I liked to drive, but Troy insisted I ride in the cars they were sending out. It would ensure that I arrived at the right time, and not more than fashionably late, as I tended to be. I rinsed out my cup and grabbed my coat, heading out to the car. It was a bit warm for a winter jacket, but I didn’t care; it covered the suit that I felt ridiculous in.
I watched out the window as the suburbs quickly turned into a sprawling metropolis. People were everywhere, and the hustle and bustle of the city loomed outside the car window. I sat back and closed my eyes, thinking about climbing. Those thoughts turned to memories and I replayed the climbing adventure I had gone on with my parents just months before they died. We had gone out to Vermont to get away and scoped out some easy but fun climbing spots. It was one of the best memories I had of them and always calmed my nerves when I felt lost in the city.
The sounds of car horns s
hook me from my thoughts and I sighed as I opened up my eyes. We were pulling up in front of the restaurant and I could see some of the bridal party walking in, dressed to the nines, proudly clutching their date’s arm. I hadn’t brought a date, nor would I be bringing a date to the wedding; that was dangerous territory. You didn’t take a girl to a wedding unless you were open to the idea of her picturing the two of you up at the front. I hadn’t met anyone that I would feel comfortable doing that with.
I climbed out of the car and straightened myself out, draped my coat over my arm, and walked inside. The hostess took me to the private room where the bridal party was, all talking loudly and excitedly to each other. I smiled as I walked in the door, catching Troy’s eye.
“Hey, you,” Melinda said, smiling, as she walked over and gave me a hug.
“Hey, you look beautiful,” I told her, meaning it.
“Hey, man,” Troy walked up and showed me to my seat at the end of the table. “Thanks for being on time,” he teased.
As Troy began the dinner, giving a riveting toast, I looked over at him and Melinda, still shocked by the two of them. They were such an odd pair, her being a Junior VP at Creative Marketing, and him owning their rival. When they’d first started dating, I’d expected it to end in a fiery blaze, but it in fact, it had turned out the two of them couldn’t have been more perfect for each other.
As I sat there eating lunch, watching the others chat excitedly about wedding plans, the company, and a ton of other things not worth mentioning, my mind began to drift. I couldn’t help but feel like I had reached a point that I just needed to get out of the city. I needed to stop feeling so stuck, so squashed in the confine of narrow streets and sunrises that came later than anywhere else because of the buildings in the way.
The Art of Seduction Page 2