We say our goodbyes and exit his building. The representatives from the big two houses quickly and quietly sulk into the evening, not giving us a goodbye on their way out, but Gavin lingers.
“Are you ready for a Gold Coast week?” he asks.
“I love the Gold Coast. I’m excited to see what I’m sure is an architecturally significant historic mansion. I’mnotready to stop working for a week last minute so I can dance whenever a billionaire tells me to.”
“And we can’t send someone more junior, or he’ll freak out thinking we don’t value him.”
“Takes a billionaire to know a billionaire.”
“Not me. Maybe if you combine all the family money,” he mumbles. “So when can I pick you up tomorrow?” he asks at a normal volume.
“Excuse me?”
“We can’t take two cars to the same place. That’s bad for the environment.”
“Oh, so you can tell me a time you’ll be there, and I can get all ready, get my bags downstairs, wait outside my building for you, and then you can just not show up? So I’m late for the time that Harrison specified and you get the show? Hard pass.”
“I wouldn’t...” he starts, offended by the suggestion. “Okay, so I might have, in the past, done something similar.”
Like the time he sent me an invitation to speak at an auctioning convention, but it was a convention for workers compensation adjusters. I handled it, but it was a terrifying few minutes when I had to figure out what to say.
“Yeah, you did. So I’m not trusting you now, even though you must have realized how old you’re getting and are desperate to get at all of this.” I move my pointer finger from my head to my toes.
“Oh, Riya, you know only men get better with age.” He shakes his head at me in pity.
I scowl at him because it’s true according to society, no matter how much I hate the unfair double standard. Which means, as much as I disagree, Mom’s right when she says I should start thinking about dating seriously. But I have so much to do at Loot before I can devote the right amount of time to the man endeavor. And while I’m putting it off and getting older and less desirable to the world by the minute, Gavin is getting more distinguished and accomplished in their eyes. The bastard.
“But fine, if you don’t trust me, then you can pick me up tomorrow morning,” Gavin says.
I open my mouth to tell him to get his own car. “You know what, sure. Send me your address, and I’ll text when we’re on the way.”
I give him an evil smile, thinking of all the possibilities. Leaving him at a random gas station, making him listen to the Spice Girls (who are amazing despite how much he wouldn’t like it), or “misplacing” his luggage for the weekend. I’ll need to collude with Tom, our driver, before we pick Gavin up.
“That look on your face is a little bit scary.”
“If you don’t want to come with me, that’s your decision.”
“No, let’s do this.”
“But only if you take the train with me right now back to Midtown.” I throw the challenge out, because watching the spoiled man try to navigate public transportation will be hilarious. I have a lot to do, reassigning tasks and telling everyone I’ll be gone for the next week, but this will be worth the time I lose.
“The train?”
“And I’m going to take pictures.” I hold up my phone, evil grin still on my face.
“It’s rush hour.” He starts to look a little green around the edges.
“Yup.”
He sighs. “Okay to all your conditions. Give me your number and I’ll text you my address right now.” He gets out his phone to do just that.
We walk to the closest station that will take us to Midtown. “Do you need to put money on your MetroCard?”
“Is that like a Mastercard?”
“Oh god.” This might be a bigger undertaking than I originally anticipated. I assumed he hadn’t used it in a while but... “Have you never taken the subway? You live in New York City. You’ve been here your entire life.”
“But I always call a car. Remember, I’m a job creator, Riya.”
