“The city is so expensive, how can I afford to go out if I can’t get a guy to subsidize me?” she said, after Nicole asked her how she could so brazenly coerce men into paying for her drinks.
Nicole was a little loose from her one margarita. Sitting together at a high top table while the male vultures circled them like prey, Danielle asked her about Red Jameson.
“So, have you seen him around the office at all?”
“Who?” Nicole said, licking the last bits of salt off the rim of her glass.
“You know who. The famously hot CEO that runs the company you work at.”
A thrill of excitement followed by a wave of sadness. “Mr. Jameson?”
“Hell, yeah. Do you ever see him walking through the halls or anything?”
She smiled.
“You do! He talks to you, doesn’t he? Tell me, Nicole.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Nicole picked up her glass and sipped the dregs of her drink—it was strong, most of the alcohol was at the bottom.
“Bullshit. I know something’s happened, I can see it on your face. Did he say hi to you or something?”
“Well…”
“Ha! I knew it. Now talk.”
“He did bring me into his office once,” she said slowly, enjoying the look of absolute shock as Danielle registered the information.
“Bullshit.”
“Fine, you don’t believe me. Why’d you ask then?”
One of the vultures came in for a landing. A slick kid who looked like he’d never even shaved a day in his life. Justin Bieber groupies would probably love him, but he wasn’t Nicole’s type at all. “Hey, ladies, you look like you could use a refill,” he said.
“Oh, how nice—they sent over a waiter,” Danielle replied, batting her eyelashes.
“Nah, I’m not a waiter. I just noticed you two looked thirsty is all.” Now that he was apparently having success, his wingman sidled up next to Nicole. The wingman’s cologne was pungent and overwhelming.
“You girls come here a lot?” he shouted into Nicole’s ear.
“No,” she answered flatly and turned away from him.
She was hoping they’d take the hint, but Danielle apparently was a Justin Bieber fan, and the two of them were now gabbing away.
So for the next forty-five minutes, Nicole endured the pestering flirtations of Justin Bieber’s cologne drenched pal, trying her best to stick it out for Danielle’s sake.
Eventually Danielle even invited the two suitors back to her and Nicole’s apartment, to which Nicole shook her head. “I’m tired, I won’t be staying up.”
“Oh, come on—don’t be like that,” Cologne Guy said.
“Yeah, hang with us,” Bieber smiled.
Danielle gave her a pleading look, but she’d already done enough sacrificing. “Sorry, I need to be up early.”
“For what?” Danielle said.
“I have work to do.”
“Staring at pictures of your boss online is considered work now?”
“Shut up, Danielle, you’re drunk.”
Bickering, the four of them went back to the apartment together. Danielle and Bieber were snuggling on the couch and getting romantic while Nicole fended off Cologne Guy’s ever more insistent advances.
Finally she’d had enough. “I’m exhausted, and I’m going to bed now.”
Her grabbed for her wrist. “Chill, baby.”
Somehow his snatching at her wrist reminded her of Red. And it reminded her just how unlike Red this buffoon was. If Red grabbed her wrist, it wasn’t impulsive, like a baboon, trying to crudely stop her from acting. He did it out of love.
She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me.”
“Relax,” he laughed.
“I’m not interested. Got it?” She glared at him and he wilted.
“Yeah. Yeah. Loud and clear. Jesus.”
“Good.” She turned and went into her bedroom. Danielle would be angry. She heard their voices, low, but still clearly bitching about how rude she’d been.
Of course she was rude one in their eyes—not Cologne Guy—who’d tried to grab her arm and keep her from going to bed.
She lay down and closed her eyes and soothed herself with thoughts of Red, thoughts of his hands on her shoulders, on her breasts, and the way he’d looked into her soul.
***
Danielle wasn’t that angry with her after all.
By the time Nicole came out of her room the next morning, Justin Bieber and Cologne Guy were long gone and Danielle was on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, watching cartoons on TV.
“Hi,” she said, as Nicole made herself coffee.
“Hi,” Nicole replied.
Danielle glanced over at her. “Sorry about last night. Those guys were idiots.”
“Did you and Justin Bieber make out?”
“Who?”
“That’s what I called the guy you were with in my head. Justin Bieber.”
Danielle laughed. “That’s funny. He did have a slight resemblance. I sincerely hope Justin Bieber doesn’t have as small a penis as him.”
“You saw it?”
“I did, indeed.”
“Oh boy.”
Danielle shook her head. “It wasn’t worth it. I’m hung over and disgusted with myself.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“No. He was…kind of premature, if you know what I mean.”