Layover Rules

Chapter Eleven



I was lucky to have the row all to myself on the flight to New York. It gave me some figurative and literal breathing room.

All of the major news outlets were now running stories on the arrest of Trevor and his twelve associates at Baker Capital. Frantically jumping from site to site on my iPad, I came across one online newspaper that had dubbed them “The Baker’s Dozen.”

Jesus, this was bad.

I thought back to the time he had tried to talk me out of working in the fashion industry—calling it a “mindless waste with no reward”—and him telling me that I could make tons more money working in his firm.

I didn’t have any knowledge of the finance industry. I didn’t have any interest in it, either. Trevor’s near-demand was about control, and I had managed to squash the idea. He dropped the subject when we spent a couple of days barely talking after the insult he had hurled at my profession and, by extension, me.

Sitting on the plane that morning, all I could keep thinking was how lucky I was that I hadn’t given in. I could have been cuffed and marched off to jail along with Trevor and the rest of his associates.



. . . . .



I was in a cab on the way to Alicia’s when Beth called.

“Are you back in the city?”

“Just landed,” I said. “I’m in a cab on my way—” I was about to tell her I was exhausted and was on my way home when she interrupted.

“Good. How long will you be?”

“What?”

“How much longer until you get here? Rick Stein wants to meet with you. I set up a four o’clock with him. I know it’s short notice,” she said, “but I think this needs to happen fast.”

“Corrine.” My voice was low, but she heard it.

I looked out the window of the cab at the bustling crowds of people, hurrying to this meeting or that appointment, and I wondered if any of them were having as bad a week as I was.

Well, bad except for the Sam situation. Thoughts of him provided my only happy mental refuge.

“I was serious when I said don’t worry about that,” Beth was saying. “But this interview is important. If I’m not in my office when you get here, text me.”

Ten minutes later, I was walking into her office.

“Close the door,” she said.

It was almost 3:30, and we spent the next twenty minutes or so going over things she thought I should emphasize when talking with Mr. Stein.

Just before I left the office, Beth said, “You’ve done an amazing job for the company. For me. You’ve made me look good on more than one occasion. I think you’re the only one who deserves this.”

It was just the confidence booster I need going into the meeting with Mr. Stein.

“Thanks,” I said.

She leaned back in her chair. “Just don’t make me look bad this time.”

A sinking feeling rushed through my chest.

She smiled. “I’m kidding. You’re going to be great.”



. . . . .



Mr. Stein was in his forties, with a thick shock of brown hair with frosted tips swept back perfectly, almost as if he’d taken the time to place each individual hair. His skin looked better than mine and that of most women I knew. His perfectly fitted suit probably cost what I made in two weeks.

He welcomed me into his office. “Can I get you something to drink?” He walked over to a corner of his office that contained a small kitchenette. I was wondering if this was a test. I’d heard about people being offered beer, wine, or more, on interviews, and the conventional wisdom was that it was better to politely decline such offers.

“Let’s see,” he said, “I’ve got pineapple, cranberry, and…what’s this? Guava nectar? I don’t remember buying that.” He tossed it in the trash. “Ah, I have orange as well.”

Juice. He was just offering me juice. I could take that.

“Pineapple would be great, thanks,” I said.

He brought the bottle back to where we were going to sit, and twisted the cap to break the seal, then handed it to me. I thanked him.

“I’m on a juice kick,” he said. “Have you ever tried one of those cleanses?”

I was sipping from the bottle, and I held it level at my lips as I shook my head slowly.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said, and didn’t go any further. Thankfully. “So, you come very highly recommended by Beth.” He looked at me.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I came up with: “She’s great to work for.”

“That’s super to hear.”

The interview got into full swing as he asked me about my experiences on the road, whether I had any concerns about anything, or suggestions for improvements, not only for the stores and the brands we carried, but also for the employees. I’d never spoken with him before, but I quickly got the impression that he was on top of everything, including the morale of his employees.

“I think you’re going to be great.” Those were Stein’s closing words when our meeting ended. It was almost the same thing Beth had said to me when I left her office, only Stein had prefaced his with “I think.” I knew I shouldn’t have focused on those two words. He had told me twice that he would be making his decision over the next few weeks, so he obviously wasn’t going to commit to me fully right then and there.

And that’s exactly what Beth said when I went down to her office to let her know how it went.

I’d had my phone on silent for hours at that point, and when I finally took it from my purse after leaving Beth’s office, I saw a few missed texts from Alicia.

Dammit, how had I forgotten to let her know what was going on?

I called her as soon as I left the building and told her I’d explain when I got there.



. . . . .



Alicia had made the pineapple and Canadian bacon quesadillas I had texted her about. She wanted me to try them sooner rather than later so I could tell her if she got the recipe right. After work, I went straight to her place.

I had a mouthful, so I gave her a thumbs-up.

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Okay, now that we have that out of the way, what else have you heard about Trevor?”

I finished my sip of wine. “Nothing that isn’t on the news.” I really didn’t want to talk about him, but I knew I’d have to, only as it was related to me not telling Sam about Trevor.

She shrugged it off. “I don’t think it matters, really. I mean it probably would be better if he knew, but like we said before, it’s not like you’re into anything serious with him. Or are you thinking it might be?”

“No.”

I filled her in on the Layover Rules.

“I like that,” she said. “Your idea or his?”

“Mine. All mine, actually. Even the name.”

It struck me that Sam hadn’t contributed anything to the rules, other than the one about not seeing chick-flicks. Maybe he was okay with the ones I had proposed and didn’t feel the need to add to them. At least, I hoped that’s what it was.

Alicia put up her hand for a high-five. “Awesome. I’m so jealous. Are you going to see him this weekend?”

“Oh, I forgot. That was one of the rules. No seeing each other in New York.”

Alicia looked at me, her face a mask of disbelief. “Whose idea was that?”

“Mine.”

“And he just went a long with it.”

I nodded. “Why?”

She shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I mean, how do you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend here in the city?”

The fact was, I didn’t know. I hadn’t asked and he hadn’t volunteered it. But that was true both ways. “How does he know I don’t have a boyfriend?”

Her eyebrows rose and she said, “Very true.” And then, after a couple of seconds: “You don’t, do you?”

“Yeah,” I said, scoffing. “I’ve been hiding him from you. Actually, I’ve been hiding them from you.”

She went to use the bathroom and when she came out, she said, “You know, it’s not even that I need to find Mr. Right. You know the phrase ‘Mr. Right Now’ or whatever it is? That’s what I need, like you have right now, but you also have the right guy to be Mr. Right Now. Right?”

“Right.”

“Right.”



. . . . .



I got home just before ten, and shortly after walking through the door I got a call from Sam.

“I had the interview today.”

He said, “How’d it go?”

“I think it went well. There was a little bit of a weird moment when he asked me if I’d ever tried a colon cleanse, though.”

“Say what?”

“You heard me.”

He chuckled. “Is that a requirement for the job or something?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And they do regular inspections, too.”

“Huh. Interesting,” he said. “It’s good to work for an organization that’s so butt-health conscious.”

I rolled over onto my side, getting more comfortable. “I’m kind of sorry I brought this up. Maybe we should move on to something else before this gets weird.”

“Too late.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Got any plans?” he asked.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

I was already in bed, so the plan was to sleep. It was nice to hear his voice after such a stressful day.

“You’re already breaking the rules,” I said. “Remember? No seeing each other in the city.”

“You and your rules,” he said.

“Our rules. You agreed to them, no matter how horny you are.”

“Ouch. And, yes, I agreed to them, but no, I’m not calling because I’m horny.”

I feigned disappointment. “I’m kind of offended that this isn’t a booty call. Was I not good enough or something?”

“Ehhh, it was okay, I guess.”

“Ohhh,” I said, “you owe me for that remark.”

“I do? Then meet me for a drink.”

I knew I was going to say no, but as I did, I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Alicia about Sam and I not seeing each other in the city. “No. You’ll have to ask your girlfriend.”

There was silence. I hadn’t expected that. I thought he would be quick with a comeback, but he wasn’t. It bothered me a little.

Then he said, “I was trying to figure out if I should tell you whether or not I have a girlfriend.”

Oh, here it comes, I thought.

“But,” he continued, “that would be breaking the rule about not discussing our current personal lives. So I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of a girlfriend.”

“That’s fine,” I said, even though I did kind of want to know.

“Blair, I’m going to break the rule and tell you that I don’t. I’m not seeing anyone, here in the city or anywhere else.”

I hadn’t realized how much stress had built up in me until I felt it leaving my body.

Sam told me he spent most of his free time in the city with friends, a couple of guys he’d known since college, one of whom still played for the Yankees, though he was on the verge of retirement. “We’re actually going deep-sea fishing this weekend.”

I hated fishing, but I didn’t tell him. “That sounds like fun.”

“You don’t have to pretend.”

“You could tell, huh?”

“Oh, just a little,” he said. “Actually a lot. And don’t worry—I’ll never ask you to go fishing.”

“It’s gross.”

“You don’t eat fish?”

“No, I do. I mean, just the hooks and the slime…” I shuddered when I thought about it.

Sam said, “You know, when you asked me if I had a girlfriend—”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“Right. You didn’t ask me directly, but that’s why you brought it up.”

I sighed. “Guilty.”

“So you broke a rule by asking. Now I think you owe me. We should break a rule and have a quick drink.”

“Nice try,” I said. “But you asked me to go out for a drink before I brought up your girlfriend.”

“Which I don’t have.”

“I believe you. But we both broke a rule. So, there’s no owing anybody anything.”

“You’re a tough negotiator,” he said. “I’ll drop it this time. How far in advance do you need to plan your trips?”

I turned off the bedside lamp, and settled in for sleep. “Usually a week or so, but I can change it.”

“Where are you going next week?”

“Actually, I’m in the office next week. No trip planned.”

“I think you should plan one,” he said. “And I know exactly where.”