“Meh, that’s what all you young folks say, but that’s just because you have your priorities all mixed up,” he answers.
“My God, how did I wind up stranded alone with the world’s most obnoxious man?”
“You mean wisest.”
“I mean wise ass,” I say, gripping my side to stop an oncoming cramp. “Of course you can think like a boomer. You charge twelve hundred dollars an hour and you live in a shack.”
“I’m not rich, but you don’t have to be if you don’t waste your money on crap you don’t need.”
“What? You’re assuming I’m some sort of shopaholic just because of where I live?”
“You’re forgetting I’ve seen your makeup kit.”
Sweat trickles down the middle of my back and my legs feel heavier by the second. I’m hot and tired and irritated and I just want to be at home snuggled up on my velvet sofa watchingThe Bachelorand sipping some chilled white wine with Vivian. Although if I were there, I’d want boozy hot chocolate on account of it being winter. “We’re back to that again, are we? Would it surprise you to know that the case was a gift from a client?”
“Yes. And don’t bother telling me what you had to do to get it. I don’t want to know.”
Okay, that’s it. The jury’s back and it’s unanimous. He’s a total jackass. “Oh my God, I’m not a prostitute, if that’s what you’re implying. My boss did a campaign for Max Factor—which is the cosmetic company with the biggest ad budget in the world, I might add—and their director—a woman, by the way—gave it to me as a thank you for going above and beyond for them.” I take a deep breath, then keep going before he can answer. “And that useless makeup, as you call it, is necessary for me in my job. If you want to be taken seriously and climb the corporate ladder, you have to dress as if you’ve already made it. It’s not as easy as you’d think, you know. In fact, it’s hard as hell to be a woman in that business. You not only have to wow them with your intelligence and be twice as good as the men, but you have to look impeccable doing it.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It can be.”
He turns and gives me a long, hard look, and to be totally honest, I’m glad to be able to stop walking for a second. “So quit.”
Turning back, he starts up the mountain again, while I barely manage to stop myself from whining at the fact that I have to keep moving one foot in front of the other. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can. It’s easy. Two words. ‘I’ and ‘quit.’ You put them together to form a complete sentence, and voila … freedom.”
“Not everyone has a skill they can charge an exorbitant amount of money for, work one hour a day, and then spend the rest of their time puttering in their garden or fishing.”
“I’m not rich, New York. Far from it. By the time I payfor insurance and maintenance and all the other fees to run my own business, there isn’t a hell of a lot left over,” he says. “But I don’t need more because I’m already?—”
“Living the good life, I know,” I answer, rolling my eyes at the back of his head.
“Yes, I am. And I’m sorry you’ve decided not to do the same, but it’s never too late to change your mind.”
I snort out a frustrated laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you’re quite possibly the most arrogant man I’ve ever met, and I’ve worked with Adam Levine.”
“Arrogant?”
“Yes, arrogant. Actually, no, not just arrogant. You’re a complete know-it-all. Thinking you know best how everyone else should live when really you don’t know anything at all about anything.”
“I know plenty.”
“Oh yeah? Then why are you alone?”
“I’m not alone. I’ve got Steve.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I live alone because that’s how I like it,” he says firmly.
“Sounds like an excuse, if you ask me.”
