That gets my hackles up. “Oh, really? Please enlighten me as to what I think of you.”
“Put simply, you think I’m a con man. You believe that I’m disgusting and immoral, and even though what I’m doing isn’t illegal, you’d like to see me locked up for exploiting rich, lonely women.”
“That’s not –”
“Please don’t insult me by lying, Miss Tate. If you want any chance of convincing me to do this, you at least have to be honest.”
I take a breath and resist the urge to tell him to screw himself. “Okay, fine. Yes, I think you’re swindling these women out of their money. That you’re preying on their insecurities and lining your pockets in the process. And I feel sorry for them being so incredibly gullible that they fall for your ridiculous line of bullshit. How’s that for honesty?”
There’s a pause, then a low chuckle. “Well, that’s a start, I guess. So, you can’t comprehend that I might actually have good intentions? That I may even help them?”
“With what? Fake romance? Cheesy role-playing? Please. I think these women live in a fantasy world where they can buy whatever they want, and you’re just one more luxury item they can brag about to their friends.”
“Hmmm, I’m not sure, but I think you just equated me to a designer handbag.”
“Well, aren’t you? The difference is, when they spend thousands of dollars on a handbag, they own it forever. You they rent by the hour.”
“You make me sound like a prostitute.”
“Not at all. That would be an insult to one of the world’s oldest professions. When someone pays for a prostitute, at least they know they’re getting screwed. Your clients have no idea.”
I must be finally getting under his skin, because when he speaks again, his voice is hard. “Miss Tate, you don’t understand a damn thing about what these women know, or need, or want. You’ve formed your misguided opinion through shallow assumptions and breathtaking ignorance of the facts.”
“Then talk to me and prove me wrong.”
There’s silence, and I suspect he knows he walked right into that one.
When he speaks again, he’s calmer. “If I meet with you and prove you wrong, you’d alter the narrative of your story?”
“Of course.”
“Would you give me your word on that?”
“Absolutely.” I almost have him. I’d swear on a stack of Bibles at this point it that’s what it takes. “I want to tell your story, Max, whatever that may be. Just tell me what I need to do.”
He pauses then says, “Alright, then, Miss Tate, I’ll agree to give you the interview, but to make this an even playing field, I’m going to insist on some conditions.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t talk any further now. I have a date.”
“A date? Or an appointment with a client?”
“To me, they’re one and the same.”
“Well, no, on a real date five-thousand dollars doesn’t usually change hands.”
“There’s that prejudice again. Are you sure you were listening the day your college professors covered impartiality?”
I bite my tongue to stifle another snarky answer. “Please just tell me your conditions, so we can schedule the interview.”
“I’ll call you later. Have a good afternoon, Miss Tate.”
“Wait, Max ...” The line goes dead.
Dammit.
I throw my phone onto my desk and push back my hair. When I turn, I see Derek standing in the doorway of his office, staring at me.
After I smile and give him the thumbs-up signal, he scowls and walks back to his desk.
At least Max has agreed to an interview, even if there’s no set time. As long as I can lock him down before tomorrow morning, I have a chance at keeping my job.
SIX
Bait and Switch
As I trip over a completely flat piece of floor on my way into Verdi’s, I curse my sister for forcing me to wear these impossible shoes with this dress. I’m sure that high heels were invented as an ancient torture device, and women have been brainwashed into believing they’re fashion. I’ve only been wearing these gold, strappy abominations for twenty minutes, and already my feet are screaming in protest.
The restaurant hostess smiles at me as I approach, and I’m not sure if she’s being genuinely friendly or taking pleasure in my newborn-foal awkwardness.
“Good evening, and welcome to Verdi’s. How can I help you?”
I grip the counter in front of her as one of my ankles decides to freestyle. “Ah, yes. Hi. I have a booking under the name Tate.”
She checks her list and smiles again. “Excellent, Miss Tate. I have a table for two all set up. Follow me, please.”
She moves through the restaurant with the grace of an elegant swan, and I follow, trying to emulate her technique. Unfortunately, my ankles don’t seem to bend the same way hers do, and I end up looking like a Clydesdale trying to scrape gum off its hooves.
“Here we are,” she says as we arrive at a secluded table near the back. She pulls out the chair just in time for me to clumsily sink into it. “May I get you a drink to start?”
I blow a stray lock of freshly styled hair out of my eye. “Yes, please. Gin and tonic. Heavy on the gin. Lots of lime.”
“Of course. I’ll send it right over.”
As she leaves, I adjust the low-cut neckline of my dress and look around. Verdi’s is a beautiful restaurant, but I don’t have any idea why Asha wanted to come here. When she and I get together it usually involves drinking, talking loudly, and laughing. This is a more of a whisper-into-your-lover’s-ear kind of place.
I check the time on my phone. 8.12pm. It’s weird Asha isn’t here yet. She’s usually the punctual sister.
I’m about to call to find out if she’s okay, when I spot a familiar face at the front of the restaurant.
Oh, come on. What are the chances?
Waiting patiently while the hostess deals with a middle-aged couple in front of him is Kieran, looking like every woman’s wet dream come true in a slim-fitting grey suit that hugs him in all the right places.
When he glances in my direction, I snap my head around so he can’t see my face.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I sneak out of my seat and take cover behind a crystal art piece as I dial Asha’s number.
She answers almost immediately. “Hey.”
“Hi. Where are you?”
“Oh, well, I don’t think I can make it.”
“What? I’m here, Ash. Dressed up and everything. I even did my hair and makeup as requested. Why the hell didn’t you call earlier, so I could have stayed at home in my PJs and watched TV?”
“Because you needed to get out for once.”
“I get out all the time.”
“To somewhere other than the Tar Bar to pick up skanky men.”
“So, you made me dress up to have dinner by myself? That’s not very sociable. And to make matters worse, guess who just showed up?”
“Kieran.”