The tables, they have turned. For the worse. “I am wooinga client. So he will buy art from us. How is that different from you taking Harrison to lunch last week?”
“Harrison’s older than Dad and he doesn’t look like the Marlboro man if he had decided to give up smoking in his prime and live right.”
Oh, Beau could look like a kale-eating Marlboro man. Especially in what I’m sure is his usual jeans-and-a-plaid-shirt uniform. “I’m not answering this question, and according to that harassment video you made us watch, frequently asking about my personal life after I ask you to stop talking about my personal life can be grounds for a lawsuit.”
“Fine. I’ll make Mom ask you.” That decision makes Priya pick up her cell phone.
“No!” I jerk forward and yell. Or say loudly enough to get my point across without making the entire team barge in. “Okay, okay,” I say at a more reasonable volume. “Iamgiving him advice on art, but I’m also enjoying showing him the city. He’s nice to look at. He’s fun. And he’s justnice.Considerate. And maybe doesn’t think I know how doors work.”
I’m choosing to be charmed by the fact that he wants to do things for me and not mad he might think I’m incompetent.
Priya looks appropriately impressed at the nice fact. After years of dating in the city, we’re literally to the point where if a guy asks us to a dinner and not just “drinks and whatever,” or “just whatever,” it’s better than getting a five-karat diamond ring.
“Are you guys making like Zeus and a goddess? Or Zeus and a human? Or Zeus and a frisky-looking house plant?” Priya asks me, in the nerdiest way possible.
“Well, he hasn’t dressed up like someone or something else to trick me into boning, so no. No making like Zeus.”
“You’re being unnecessarily pedantic right now. You know I just meant sex.”
That’s rich coming from her. “Shouldn’t you be telling me not to sleep with a client? Because professionalism?”
“I slept with the enemy. A client is way better than that. Plus, I’m with the American Bar Association guidelines on this: so long as the professional exchange isn’t based on agreeing to the personal one, it’s fine.”
“Fiiiiiiiiiine. He’s really attractive and since he’s country themed I want to ride him like a wild mustang.”
“Yeehaw.” Priya tugs at her collar.
“And maybe we will. We’re both adults. Unmarried.” Well, I think he is. No ring. “Why not have fun?”
“Oil him up and wrangle him.” Priya pumps her fist in the air.
I look at Priya askance. There’s an image. That I can so get behind. Or better yet, under.
Priya continues, “But he is leaving, I assume. To get back to the cows?”
“No cows. Peaches. But that’s a good thing. I don’t want a relationship anyway, so it’s actually ideal.”
“So he’s a...peachboy? Peachperson?”
“Let’s not call him a peachboy ever again.”
“Well, enjoy. I haven’t seen you this interested in a guy for a while.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I get up.
“Denial!”
“Yes, I’m surethe Nileis lovely this time of year.” I purposely mishear Priya as I walk out of the office, fingers still lodged firmly in my ears.
“At least I know what I’m getting you for Christmas,” she yells after me. “Therapy!”
I smooth my hands down my dark green coat in front of the Loot building.
I didn’t want Priya to harass me on the way to this work event or mixed-purpose event, so I belly crawled past her office to leave.
Okay,fine.So I slumped down and averted my face while I speed walked past her office. But I think the point is that I would have belly crawled to avoid Priya if it had been called for.
When I don’t see Beau immediately, I get out my phone so it doesn’t look like I’m getting stood up. The phone in front of me means I have purpose. There could be a whole attractive rugby team’s worth of men on the other end of the internet that I’m talking to, so I’m not just a creepy loiterer.
