“So, same old, same old.” Otis accepted the beer I offered him. “How’s Rover?”
Jeffrey Otis was a box office darling to the world. To us, he was a risk-taking, loud-mouthed, loyal son of a bitch. The weekend hadn’t even started, and Otis was grinning as if it was the biggest pot of the night.
The breakfast nook had long ago been transformed for our poker game space. The rectangular table and its matching twelve chairs had been moved into storage and replaced with a large round table with six comfortable chairs. A banquet table was at the end of the nook for the finger foods that were prepared for game night. There hadn’t been many changes made since moving back into my parents’ house, but the poker room was definitely the most dramatic.
“Fine. He’s staying with Samantha for the night for monitoring.”
“Dr. Samantha is one hot lady. You could have invited her to stay here to keep an eye on him.” Bryan held up his hand, “Oh, I forgot the no women in your house rule.”
“Bed. No women in my bed.”
“I’m out.” Bryan tossed the cards, laughing as disappointment fell over Otis’ face.
Bryan was the second of our small college group to find fame, but he found his success in the music industry. After graduation, he headed straight into a recording studio. The second song he released made it to number two on the Billboard charts. From that moment forward, it became our goal to get all Bryan’s releases to hit the number one spot on the charts.
“You’re folding?” Otis scooped the chips and busied himself stacking the bounty in front of him.
“When is Eric supposed to get here?” Bryan asked as he walked past me to the food table.
I tossed a hefty stack of money onto the table in front of Otis and slipped into my usual seat closest to the kitchen. I clanked the base of my beer against Otis’ in our typical college bros greeting.
“When he gets here. What is up with you?” I stacked my chips in my particular method of higher to lowest denomination left to right in even stacks. “Shit. Make yourself useful and put some music on.”
“Not yours…” Otis and all of us joked, at the same time.
“Please.” Eric snapped from the doorway. “Bryan, I’m fucking here. Can you stop fucking texting me now? Jesus Effing Christ. Do you know I would block anyone else for sending me the number of texts you’ve sent me today? You better not be pregnant, man.”
Eric was the final member to join our group. He had grown up poor and had worked at least one job since he was eleven. Otis, Bryan, and I met Eric while we were at NYU. He did odd jobs around the school and started sitting in a couple of my classes with me. When I attended law school, Eric agreed to work for me in exchange for college tuition. We’d been in business together ever since.
Eric counted out the ten thousand dollar buy-in and tossed it to Otis. “Did you blow up Anderson’s phone?”
“No. Where the hell else is he going to be? This is his house.” Bryan rocked in his chair like a toddler sitting in front of a birthday cake filled with lit candles.
I smiled at Otis. We both exchanged subtle nods with Eric. Since the first day we met, Bryan lacked any sort of poker face. He had something big to share, and we all knew it.
“Bryan, we are not going to spend another poker night talking about what Faith thinks about everything.” Otis stared as he set the final stack of chips in front of Eric. Both he and Eric leaned back in their chairs with their arms across their chest.
“What are you talking about?” Bryan rubbed his hands together.
I smiled and shared a knowing glance with Otis and Eric. “I mean, she has been your favorite since you started seeing–”
“I asked Faith to marry me.” Bryan blurted out and laid his head on the edge of the table in front of his seat. He continued when no one else in the room spoke.
“She’s the one. I asked her last weekend. She said yes, of course. The reps are working on how to push this out so it has the biggest tailwind. She’s super understanding about it.”
“Ummm.” I looked over at Eric while he searched for words. Next, I looked at Otis and wondered if my face was making the same expression of ‘why the hell would you do that’ that I was positive he was making. “Congratulations. Bryan, this is a surprise, but we are happy for you.”
The emphasis in my voice slapped the others into an over the top session of congratulation and well-wishes. A moment of sadness coursed through me at the realization I may not be able to attend my college friend’s wedding. Privacy was a commodity that we all valued, but my need to stay out of Page Six was one of my highest priorities. While Bryan and Otis needed the press to further their careers, my need to remain out of Page Six had become a primary focus. The wedding of a Grammy-nominated artist was going to be news. I wasn’t going to be added to that juicy news story.
We sipped champagne and listened as our friend of a couple decades relived the night he proposed to his Faith. Bryan’s usual quiet demeanor was even more animated than when he’s on stage. After he finished the retelling, I headed back down to the wine cellar for a second champagne bottle.
“So, who had August?” Otis asked as I retook my seat. He scrolled through his phone. “Anderson. Are you kidding me?”
A slow grin crept over my face as Bryan’s eyes bore into me. “You motherfuckers.”
Eric was the first to toss a few hundred-dollar bills in my direction. Otis checked the notes on his phone before digging out three hundred from the stack of cash lying next to his chips. Flipping the bills and shuffling them into a neat stack, I couldn’t have said what month I’d chosen back when Bryan started talking more and more about Faith. Otis had laid out the terms of the wager right after Bryan asked if Faith could meet us all for dinner. She was the first girl any of us risked the secrecy of our group on.
An alert sang out ‘we’re getting married’ in what sounded like Bryan and, what one would assume was, Faith’s voices singing. Embarrassed, Bryan dove for the phone in his pocket. “She’s in NY.”
We all nodded.
‘We’re getting married,’ rang out from Bryan’s phone again. “She’s eager to hear how you guys took the news.”
“Tell Faith, I said I’m thrilled with the news.” I patted my winnings.
“I’m going to call her. You guys don’t mind if–”
Otis raised his glass, “Go make Page Six, Bro.”
We raised our drinks in Bryan’s direction. It was going to be a shit show once the two of them made their media debut. We all agreed back in college that we’d never get caught on Page Six with someone until it was the one. I argued that it was hardest for me as I was on everyone’s shortlist of who’s who for landing a catch in NYC.
My text alert sounded.
Jurnee - Hope Rover is doing better. Thanks for everything. This is Jurnee Messer BTW
“I thought your nightly candidates weren’t allowed to text after six,” Otis commented as I reached for my phone.
“They aren’t.” I re-read the text and sighed. “This is not one of my candidates as you so enjoy calling them. This is an annoying new client Graham has gifted me.” I added air quotes over the gifted part. “Weirdly, I ran into her yesterday at Pastis. She sat down at my table and basically told me I was rude. At the time, I assumed she had confused me for someone else, but now that she was at Morgan today, I’m wondering.”
“A female called you rude? Does she know who you are?” Eric asked as he dealt the next hand. “Either way, I like her already.”
“I think it’s safe to say that she absolutely didn’t realize who he was.” Otis joked as he poured another glass of champagne. “Is she hot? Are you adding her to the list of nightly candidates?”
“She looks a hell of a lot better when she’s not soaking wet, but no, there is no way I’d consider her for an evening of fun.”
6
Jurnee
Switching my phone from one hand to the other, I tried not to miss a single word of Derrick’s lecture, bu
t as I stopped in front of a building matching the address Soraya texted me earlier in the day, I was awe-struck. An older man opened one of the double glass doors and flashed a friendly smile.
“Hold on, Derrick.” I lowered the phone, “Good afternoon, I’m here to see Mrs. Soraya Morgan.”
“You must be Jurnee. Please come on in. Soraya is expecting you.” He gestured to the gold elevators at the back of the large foyer. “Just press P.”
“Thank you very much. Have a wonderful rest of your day.”
The doorman grinned from ear to ear, “Thank you, Ms.”
Before I made it to the elevator, I remembered Derrick was waiting for me. “This building is gorgeous. Seriously, Derrick, this is way out of my league.”
“Dinner? You’ve eaten dinner a thousand times, at least.”
I rolled my eyes, “You know exactly what I mean. This is a level I’m not sure I can wrap my head around.”
“There is nothing for you to wrap your head around. You already know Avery and Genevieve from their visits to Michigan. Stop stressing. I still don’t know why you stopped for a bottle of wine.”
“Because Derrick, I was raised that you don’t show up to dinner empty-handed the first time you are invited to someone’s house. If you will recall, I brought you a huge basket of baked goods when I welcomed you to the neighborhood.”
“I moved in next door to you, Jurnee. That is something completely different, but whatever.” He finished arguing with me and changed the subject. “Have you heard from candidate number two yet?”
“I’m about to get on the elevator. Call me tomorrow?” I wasn’t ready to schedule the next blind date just yet.
“Okay, but you’re in New York for only four weeks. Your stated goal was to find someone you were comfortable enough to have sex with. Unless you plan on having sex with this Anderson guy, you better let me get on the website again.”
“Let’s not forget that Anderson is a complete asshole. The elevator is here.” I replied into the phone from about a foot away from my mouth. “Call me tomorrow, best friend.”
“You’re not even right.”
Click. I hit the end button, then pressed the P button. The doors closed, and I leaned against the wall of the elevator. Derrick was right. I had come to New York City to sow my oats, and so far, I had only come across a rude, drop-dead gorgeous, cocky jerk.
And you get to work with him. Time to get back on track. Ummmm… you are going into business with Graham Morgan. Why haven’t you told Derrick?
The doors opened, and I stepped into a lovely foyer with a small table and dark cherry double doors. Jesus, this man loves his dark cherrywood finishes. Focus!
I raised my hand to knock as the door opened. A beautiful woman with silky long black hair and dyed pink tips stepped out. I was having one of those moments when you know you’re staring, but you can’t stop—rubbernecking as you drive by an accident.
“Hi, Jurnee. I’m Soraya, but you already knew that.” She gave me a warm smile, and I immediately felt at ease.
“Come in. Come in. Please excuse the mess. My youngest, Lorenzo, is into trains. His father indulges him at a level that would make your head spin. My sole task these days is preventing Graham from purchasing his son a real train.” Her accent reminded me of an Italian mother in a mafia movie cooking sauce for the boys.
I froze at the grandeur of the space. The living room felt bigger than my entire house back home. The small spaces of New York City were something I was still trying to get used to. The apartment I was subletting was a one-bedroom apartment that was only 500 square feet.
“Thank you for inviting me to dinner. This is for you.” Remembering my manners, I handed the wine to my hostess. “I’ve never tried this kind, but the store clerk said it was delicious.”
“I am so excited to finally meet you. Avery and Genevieve talk about you and Derrick all the time.” She glanced down at the bottle as we made our way to the kitchen, “Let’s put this one on ice, and I’ll pour us a glass of one that is already chilled. Then, you can give me all the Michigan secrets the girls left out.”
Again, I stopped in my tracks. The kitchen was a beautiful mix of light marble wrap counters and deep cherry cabinets. The design could’ve been overly masculine, but fresh flowers and framed family photos made the space homey.
“This is a lovely kitchen.”
Soraya smiled, lifted her finger at me to hold on a second, and then hit the speaker button on her phone. “Chloe, what’s going on, kiddo?”
“Dad said I had to ask you if it was okay to spend the night at Holly’s house. Can I please?” I smiled at a little girl’s request.
“How was your riding lesson?” Soraya moved around the kitchen, opening wine as she gestured for me to have a seat at the island.
“Good. I got to jump Daisy on the outside course. I wasn’t even scared.” She continued to share the highlights of her riding lesson.
Soraya winked at me. “Okay, Princess. Have Holly’s mom give your dad a call to work on the details. It’s fine with me. Do you have clothes with you, or does Louis need to bring some over?”
“I’m fine. I brought a bag with me to the barn.”
I quickly opened my email to check on the day’s mail from the post office and to give Soraya an illusion of privacy. I scrolled through the uploaded images of the mail.
“Alright. Have fun and behave. Love you to pieces.” Soraya smiled. “Chloe.”
“Yeah?”
Modern technology is the shit. Four clicks and my electric and cable bills were paid.
“Please text your mom, so she knows where you are and let her know you asked us first.”
“Okay. I’ll do that now. Thanks, Soraya.”
I sat my phone down on the island and took a panoramic glance to appreciate the flawless kitchen. Soraya gave me one more apologetic smile. This could be a romance novel.
“Holly’s mom also needs to contact your dad.”
“Can you call my dad–” Chloe asked someone in the background.
“Please,” Soraya added.
“Pleaseeee.” Chloe sang. “Okay, she’s going to call him now. Love you like no one else.”
“Right back at you, kiddo.” The call disconnected. Soraya apologized, but I held my hand up and shook my head.
“Please don’t apologize. She sounds amazing. How old is she?”
Soraya took a tray of cheese, grapes, and olives out and placed it on the counter in front of me.
“Chloe is almost nine. She’s amazing, and I can’t imagine our life without her. Now, let’s talk about you.”
“Me?” I nervously sipped my wine.
“Yes. You. Tell me everything.” She gestured for me to follow her into the living room, and we sat on the oversized white sofa.
“Oh my god! Look at that view.” The New York City skyline had never looked better than from my seat in Soraya and Graham’s apartment. It was like the movies. Actually, it was almost the exact view described in one of my favorite romance novels.
“Yeah, Graham won me over with that view.” She joked, but something in her words made me think that the two had gone through their own journey to happiness.
“Are the others on their way?” I asked, hating that silence bothered me.
“Avery and Genevieve are tied up tonight, so they aren’t going to make it. Avery was going to call you after the meeting, but she really couldn’t get free.” The grin on Soraya’s face puzzled me.
“Are they okay?”
“They are more than all right. The two of them are on a singles cruise, living their best life.”
“Avery is on a singles cruise? Really?”
“Yep, and not just any cruise either, it’s a BDSM cruise.” She laughed as she watched my eyes open as wide as they possibly could.
“No!”
“Yes. And from the text I got from Genevieve yesterday, neither of them are too single at the moment.” Soraya giggled. “Oh, they have directed me to t
ell you that you may not tell Avery’s brother.”
The rest of the evening was filled with easy conversation. Soraya explained her colorful history with Genevieve and Avery. I, then, shared my history of Avery as told by her proud and protective brother, Derrick. It didn’t take long to figure out that we knew very different sides of the two women that linked us together.
Soraya cracked up when I told her about the time Avery brought Genevieve to what she called the ‘smallest town in the world’ to visit Derrick. We took them to Lake Michigan for a day without realizing it was a beer bash weekend.
“They weren’t ready to experience a beer bash.” Soraya wiped tears from her eyes as I finished.
“How’s working with Anderson?” My fork dropped onto the plate when the subject turned to Anderson. The bite of chicken carbonara felt like it expanded with every chew.
“Is it that bad already?”
I stared down at my plate. Then, I searched for anything in the kitchen to look at besides Soraya.
She picked up her wineglass and sat back in her seat. “Oh. Okay. Huh. I didn’t see that coming.”
“There’s nothing to see… coming.” I tried to sound as casual as possible. “It’s fine working with Anderson.”
“You like him.”
“I don’t like him. I acknowledge he is a very good looking man with great hands. Anderson is smart and probably extremely capable at his job. There is nothing to see coming.” There is nothing to see coming? What the hell is even wrong with you, Jurnee? Oh yeah, you are setting up the next date when you get home.
Soraya set her wineglass down on the table and clapped. “Are you sitting here fighting with yourself over this? I’m sorry to tell you, but it looks like it’s written all over your face.” I looked at her, and her wide grin made me smile. “You like Anderson.”
“I mean there is no denying that he is a handsome guy, but he has the ability to teeter in-between being somewhat nice to being a complete–”
“Cocky bastard?” Soraya interrupted.
Mister Manhattan: A Hero Club Novel Page 3