by Isabel Jolie
“To the gym? Yeah, but not weights every day. I love the Python’s Tuesday evening spin class. I usually do laps Thursday. Weekends, I bounce around. But yeah, I’m here almost every day doing something. You can’t get better than this place.”
“I agree. It’s a good gym.” You’d think he owns the place the way pride shimmers off him.
“Good? It’s fan-fucking-tastic.” He grins.
I’m in tennis shoes, not heels, and he’s only about four inches taller than I am, but it’s the first time he’s had a clear height advantage. It’s also the first time I notice the amber flecks in his irises, and a few light gray strands mixing in with his dark hair. He’s gonna be one of those men who flaunts the salt and pepper look. Not that he wants to look distinguished, but want to or not, he will.
“Yeah. It’s way better than what I had in L.A. Thanks for recommending it.”
“No problem. I love making people feel at home in my hometown. Which, speaking of, you’re still coming with me Saturday night, right? To meet the gang?”
“Yes.” I’d love to ask him about Mrs. Bennett, but I can’t figure out how to word that question and not come off like a nosy bitch, or worse, an insecure female.
“Great. You’ll love my friends. Anna’ll pull you right under her wing. You’ll be settled here in no time.” The real me loves the idea of having girlfriends to hang out with on the weekend. But here I am, once again, devoting every minute of my weekend to work.
I go to leave, and Chase stops me. “No water?” he asks.
Before I can explain I usually drink from the water fountain, he walks away, toward the far wall and a gym bag. He lifts a Smart water bottle out of his bag and delivers it to me. “Drink it on the way home. It’s important to stay hydrated.”
It’s easy to see why everyone loves this guy. When he’s not playing the tool card, he comes across as genuine and outgoing. Like he’s everybody’s friend. Of course, I suppose there are quite a few mafia guys over the years who’ve had the same schtick.
Later that night, I pull out my phone and type in a few notes.
Maitlin - Chelsea Piers Gym. Seems to know all. Gym routine hours long. Locate Tad. Why leave suddenly? Clean his computer?
Seven
Chase
I buzz outside Sydney’s building, then shoot her a quick text to let her know I’m here. She didn’t want me to pick her up. She couldn’t have been any clearer; this is not a date. But like I’m gonna have her show up at my buddy’s place not knowing anyone. I’m not an insensitive prick. I’m friends with chicks, I have a sister, and I know it’s uncomfortable to show up to a place where you don’t know anyone all alone.
As I stand there waiting on the bottom concrete step, a text from EJ comes through.
Elijah Mason/MSC: You’re in for tonight. Text your location, and the car will pick you up around midnight.
Fuck. I told the guy I had plans tonight. But he’s one of those clients who acts like he’s the boss of me. And the thing is, I know where he wants to go. Thursday night we were in a strip club. The place they want to go tonight makes that place look PG.
I stare at the phone, contemplating my response. When I first started hanging out with Tom Bennett and his college buds, I thought it was all good. Only good things could come from schmoozing with the bigwigs, right? One by one, each of his buddies requested me as their client service manager for their businesses.
They’re good guys. Fun on the golf course, maybe not so faithful to their wives. I really don’t want to know, don’t want to judge. They’re acquaintances. Business associates. But this pressure to join them all the time is starting to feel…not good. Doesn’t make sense either. These guys are wealthy as fuck. Even if they want me there to write it off as business, well, they can write it off as business without me there. Although, really, the place they wanna hit tonight shouldn’t be on anyone’s tax records.
The door pushes open, and I step back. D.A.M.N. Sydney Frost can snazzy it up.
I fall back two steps down, taking her in. She’s in smoking high heels and a tiny black dress that shows off some mighty fine legs she’s been hiding in pants all week. Her hair’s blown out, sleek, showing off an angle that’s not quite so evident at the office where she pulls it back into a low bun for the sexy secretary vibe.
Fuck. I’ve been respecting my colleague, keeping it friendly and harassment-free, but damn. I should’ve been putting on my A-game. She might be all business and know next to nothing about comics, but she is fine with a capital F. I’d backed off taking that long shot, but now I might re-strategize.
“You didn’t need to come and pick me up. I told you.” She sounds annoyed. Frosty.
“I’m aware I didn’t need to. I wanted to.”
I bow to her, ever so slightly, holding my arm out to guide her to her chariot. Well, the Uber I paid to make one stop before the final destination. She rolls her eyes as I open the back door of the tiny Chevy for her. Rolls her eyes. I’ve been piecing Sydney together like a puzzle. My running theory is she’s so into the professional work scene that when she’s with someone who doesn’t follow status quo, it throws her. If I played the part of a perfect corporate executive, I wouldn’t be getting under her skin.
When I round the car and slide into the seat next to her, she looks me up and down. And not in a let’s-get-it-on kind of way.
“What?”
“Do you always wear t-shirts?” Her nose scrunches a bit when she asks the question.
“Well, if you’re asking what I sleep in, the answer is no. I prefer commando.”
She stares out the window, and I lean my head back on the headrest and close my eyes. I didn’t have to invite her out. She’s not my client. She’s not even on my fucking team. I’m just being nice to someone who has no friends.
The Uber stops at a traffic light, and we sit in silence. I should just tell her to forget about it. Leave her skinny, tall, frosty, yet simultaneously hot ass on the curb near a bar where she can find the kind of man she wants, because I am not her kind of guy. I’m not the kind of guy she’d choose to hang out with at the office, much less go out on a date with.
Once again, I try to be the nice guy, and then everybody feels free to walk right over me. I have plans tonight. Can’t go out. Pretty solid and clear. EJ might as well’ve said, You little peon. I own your ass, and you're coming out if I say you’re coming out.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is about you that brings out the bitch in me.” Her meek, quiet tone lulls me out of my stew. She sounds almost…contrite.
I stop staring straight ahead at the vinyl headrest and give her a hard look. Then I do what I do best and let the simmering anger cool and go for a joke.
“You know, I’m pretty sure the original lyrics weren’t going for that.” She pauses, and the corners of her glossy pale pink lips turn up a tad. “You know, it’s supposed to be ‘brings out the man in me.’”
“I got the reference,” she assures me. “But, seriously. You’re being nice. Doing me a favor by introducing me to your friends. And I’m…”
“Being a bitch.” Her eyebrows almost hit her hairline, so I backtrack. “Abrasive. You’re being abrasive.”
“I’m sorry.” She sounds genuine.
“So, what am I doing that’s bringing this out? Is it just my presence? You really hate t-shirts? You have a thing against short guys?”
A smirk plays across her lips, and she looks away for a moment. “You know, I think it’s that you remind me of one of those guys who doesn’t take anything seriously. I had to work damn hard, and some people don’t have to work hard, and it gets under my skin. You know?”
I think back to business school and group projects. There was always one slacker. That’s about as close to understanding what she’s talking about as I can get.
“You know, I might joke a lot, but I do work damn hard. Don’t let the jokester routine fool you. As one of the shorter guys, growing up, it felt like I had to push i
t twice as hard as anyone else. And being in the sub-six-foot category definitely didn’t play well with the girls. Joking’s been my go-to thing for a long time. Usually, it makes friends, though, not enemies.” That’s a touch of honesty I don’t normally share, but it feels like she and I might have something in common. Maybe she had to work super hard for her grades, or maybe she ended up at a company with a lot of male testosterone. In financial services, it’s not unheard of, that’s for sure.
She reaches out and touches my knee. Her touch sends a tingling sensation along my thigh and into my nether regions, and goosebumps rise on my arms. It’s a reaction I’m pretty positive she didn’t intend to create.
“Hey.” Her voice is sultry. Sexy. I can’t even swallow. Those glossy lips shine, reflecting the streetlights we’re whizzing past. She flicks her tongue over the full lower lip in slow-mo. “You’re not that short. You’re taller than me. When I’m not wearing heels.”
She pulls her hand back with a friendly smile, and damn if I don’t need to get out of my own head because for the briefest of seconds I thought she was going somewhere she so clearly was not going. Fuck. Maybe it’s a good thing EJ’s taking me out tonight. It appears I need a release. With anyone I can find.
The car pulls up outside of Sam and Olivia’s building. They live in the T1, a new build, high-end apartment with stunning views of the Hudson and Manhattan. The skyscraper towers over the Hudson river, its metal and glass far more modern and imposing than any of the nearby brick apartment buildings and low warehouses. I hop out, thanking our driver, and walk around to open Sydney’s door. She’s already stepping out of the car by the time I round the trunk.
Sydney matches my stride as we head into the iconic glass building. She hesitates.
“Wow. That’s a gorgeous building.”
“Yeah, it is. Sam’s one of the founders of Esprit Corp. He’s loaded.” I glance at her, deciphering how she’s taking that info. Just in case, I add, “His girlfriend, Olivia, is one of our close friends. Anna, Olivia, and Delilah are the women I was telling you about. The ones I want you to meet.”
“But tonight’s a gathering for your friends Maggie and Jason, right?” She sounds tentative, like she’s attempting to remember the names. I didn’t really offer many details when I invited her.
“Yes. Jason is Sam’s good friend. They’re like brothers. Go way back. The girls have known Maggie for a while, and they’re close, but Maggie and Jason moved to Chicago. They came back so Jason could clear out his apartment. He sold it. Think he signed the papers earlier today.”
The doorman waves us through, clearly expecting us. I come here quite a bit to hang with the guys. Sam seems to prefer to have everyone over to his place as opposed to going out, and I have to say, I don’t mind at all. At least, it works for me for early hours, but if I wanna get lucky, I have to cut out and meet up with other singles later on. I like this group and all, but they are one coupled up crew. It’s only a matter of time before big rocks are placed on all their ladies’ fingers.
It’s kind of funny. When we first moved to New York, I was the only one in a serious relationship, and I felt jealous of my single friends. Now, the tables have turned. I’m the only one not in a relationship, and at times, I do find myself jealous of these guys. They never stroke an urge to bar hop, searching crowds, aiming for a connection. They have all they need now, wherever they choose to go.
The elevator opens into Sam’s foyer. I guide her down the hall, where Anna greets us.
“Anna, this is my new colleague, Sydney. She’s the one I told you about, who’s new to the city.” Within seconds, Anna’s guiding her over to the others.
Sydney’s in good hands, so I head straight on back to the terrace, where I know all my buds are hanging. I do stop by the kitchen and pull out a few beers in case anyone else needs one. As I round the corner of the kitchen island, I take a moment to appreciate all the ladies in the house. They are decked out.
I glance down at what I’m wearing. I’ve got a sports jacket on, and jeans, but they’re dark jeans. Like super dark, almost slacks-like. Yeah, I’ve also got a t-shirt on, but who gives a shit?
When I join the guys outside, they’re dressed like me. No t-shirts, but you know, sports jackets. No one’s in a tie. Jason’s not even here yet. Jackson, my college buddy, is over talking on his cell on the far end of the mammoth terrace.
Sam greets me, and we both sit. Sam’s brother, Ollie, nods and takes a beer from me. I set the extra on the table.
After we’ve got all the niceties out of the way, I mutter to Sam, “Hey, am I dressed okay for what you’ve got planned?”
Of course, Ollie overhears. “You know, I was gonna tell you, man, your ass looks kind of big in those jeans.”
I flip him the bird, and he just laughs. Thank you, Sydney, for turning me into a girl.
Eight
Sadie
Anna, Chase’s good friend, loops her arm around mine and ushers me into the kitchen, where other women are gathered around an island. From where I am, we can see through the glass wall onto the terrace. All the men are sitting on two facing sofas in front of a gas fireplace. I’m new to New York City, but I’ve lived in enough cities to know this apartment must be insanely expensive.
My immediate thought when surrounded by such excess is how did they get this money? Anna passes a gin gimlet to me as I put on a convincing smile and sharpen my senses. Time to start digging.
“So, help me understand how everyone here knows each other.”
Anna pauses then points around the room as she speaks. “Delilah and I work together, and Olivia and I used to live together. Chase and I knew each other at Carolina. My boyfriend, Jackson, and Chase lived together in grad school. And then, Maggie’s fiancé, Jason, is childhood friends with Sam. Sam is the guy out there with cowboy boots on. This is his place.”
I point to Olivia, a woman who towers over me, and ask, “And Sam is your boyfriend?”
She finishes nibbling an olive before answering, “Yes. We live together. Jackson and Anna live together, Delilah and Mason live together, and well, obviously Maggie and Jason do.”
“Interesting. There’s no way I’m keeping all that straight.” I point out to the terrace, where I do want to understand the connections. “So, do all of the men work together? Or are they just friends?”
Delilah, the blonde, laughs, and her hands flail out in front of her as she speaks. “Oh, no. Mason’s a veterinarian. He didn’t know any of these guys until we met. But he was Anna’s veterinarian.” She raises an eyebrow and in a firm tone directs, “And that’s a story we will not be sharing.”
“What about Sam’s business? Esprit. Are they a BB&E client?” All the women look at me. Shit.
Olivia taps a nail on her glass, considering as she answers, “I don’t know who Esprit uses for an accounting firm. But, really, Sam isn’t the one who would be dealing with that. He’d see top-line reports. Sam’s more involved now in investing in other start-ups, almost more like a spin-off of Esprit. But, you know, if Chase ever wanted to pitch BB&E to Esprit, I’m sure Sam would help him out.” Her nose wrinkles. “Does Chase do new business for BB&E? Or do you?”
“No, he doesn’t. And I’m not trying to look for new business opportunities. Chase is more of an account manager, like client services. I do internal auditing.”
Olivia gazes out the window at the men. “Hmm. I can definitely see Chase in client services.”
Anna sidles up next to me, tapping my elbow. “What about you and Chase? Are you guys…?” She lets the question trail.
“Colleagues.” I make a point of looking her directly in the eye, so she knows I’m not being coy. “I recently moved here, and he brought me along so I could meet people. He said he wants me to like his city, and he had great things to say about all of you.”
Delilah pipes up. “That’s our Chase. He’s like a one-man welcome wagon.” With enthusiasm, she points to Anna. “That’s how he got Anna and Jackson
together. Trying to make Jackson feel at home when he moved here.”
Anna gives a half-laugh. “I’m not so sure I’d say he got us together.” Then she redirects the conversation back to me. “You know, Chase can come off as a bit of a jerk, but under all those jokes, he’s a good guy. He’s been a good friend through the years.”
Delilah adds, “Yeah, we love our Chase. If you decide to give him a chance, be good to him.”
“First, he’s a colleague.” I hold out my index finger as if I’m directing a class. “Nothing is going on. Second, he doesn’t strike me as someone who’s exactly looking for a relationship.”
Olivia responds with a slight smile. “I tend to agree with you that he’s a player. But we’ve been hanging out with him for years, and you’re the first woman he’s brought around us since his ex-girlfriend. All that said,” she pauses to make eye contact with both Anna and Delilah, “leave her alone, guys. I understand what it’s like to not want to date a work colleague. Drop it.”
“It’s okay.” Ex-girlfriend. Maybe she couldn’t handle corrupt dealings. Harder to be in a relationship when you’re skirting the law. But what about Mrs. Bennett…? “So, the player bit. Do you know, has he dated anyone through work before?” I twist my heel back and forth, hoping to come across like a tentative, curious girl, someone who may be debating dating a guy.
Olivia and Delilah look to Anna to answer. She shakes her head slowly. “No. But I wouldn’t know. It’s been years since he told me about anyone.” Her squint and tilt of the head tell me she’s questioning if I’m asking for me, so I offer additional background.
“I met Chase at a function last weekend, and there was a woman there he seemed close to. I just wondered.”
Maggie sets her glass on the counter and asks, “Were you at the McLoughlin Charity Gala last weekend?”
“Yes. Were you there?”
“I knew I’d seen you before.” She snaps her fingers. “I was trying to place you. Yes, I was there. I work for The Health Foundation, but I used to work for McLoughlin. The group I work for now does some work with McLoughlin, and since it’s my old company and a lot of my connections, they sent me out. We’re planning a similar fundraising event this holiday season.”