“Fuck you.” Her grin softened her response. “I love youandmy opinion is themostimportant. That’s how this works. What you should be doing is looking around at the men in this place. Half of whom are checking you out.”
She turned her bar stool around, propping one elbow behind her on the bar. “I mean, come on.” She sighed, sounding like she was getting a massage. “Look at these guys. Ties loosened. Jackets off. Cuffs rolled up. Don’t you just want to get in there and mess up someone’s hair?” She waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively. “Or have someone mess up yours?”
“I wouldn’t know. It’s been so long since I was on a date that even had me thinking about anything other than how to get out of a kiss-at-the-door situation ... honestly, right now, the thing I’m most excited about is the chocolate you promised me.”
“Patience, my friend. I’ve got you. But for now, come on, just humor me.” She nudged me again and I sighed, turning to followher gaze. “What about them?” She tipped her martini glass subtly in the direction of four men at a corner table. They were laughing and talking animatedly, one of them clearly regaling the rest with a story. All the while they were each glancing around, playing the game. Checking people out, sizing them up. A little eye contact here. A small smile there.
I shook my head. “No, they’re too, I don’t know. On.”
“On?”
“You know. Shopping.”
“Girl.” Mia’s tone was at once disapproving and incredulous. “That’s what everyone is doing.”
“I know.” She laughed at the disappointed look on my face. “I don’t get it. What are you looking for, if not for someone else who’s looking?”
“I don’t know. I want sparks. I want romance-novel-up-against-a-wall. I want someone who’s too secure to do all this,” I waved my hand at the crowd, “and someone who will love me like it’s what he lives for.”
“Is that all?” I wasn’t looking at her, but I could hear her eyes roll. “You’re setting yourself up for disappointment. You know that meme about romance novels and movies setting our expectations too high? It’s funny because it’s real. We’ve made these guys up in our heads, and made them manifest in our dreams, and paid actors to inhabit them. That’s not something you can really expect to find.”
“Exactly. Even if he was out there, somewhere, he wouldn’t be here. But that’s fine, because I came here to see you, anyway. How was your day?”
She was almost a year older than me. We’d met at MIT, but while I’d immediately taken a job working for Richard, Mia had pivoted and started her own event planning business. While I’d hidden in a lab for ten years she’d become a self-made success—working her way up from coordinating small local events to managing extravagant galas for L.A.’s elite.
She flashed a megawatt grin at me and I swear two men next to me almost passed out.
Mia began describing a quinceañera she’d been contracted to plan, with a budget higher than most peoples weddings. She set down her drink, her hands flying as she animatedly described the mother of the soon-to-be-fifteen-year-old guest of honor. Her huge, deep brown eyes were alight with her excitement about the job, and I was paying attention to what she was saying and ignored the feeling of a person crowding in on my other side. The place was jammed, personal space wasn’t going to be a thing tonight.
Mia turned to face the bar, grabbing a couple of paper napkins and the bartenders pen to sketch out a balloon arch design she’d come up with. She finished the drawing and waved it at me triumphantly, tossing back the last of her drink like an exclamation point. I laughed and reached for mine to do the same but a deep voice coming over my left shoulder stopped me.
“Don’t touch that.”
3
ASHER
Cheryl: Any issues with the suite?
She never failed to text after I checked in, wherever I was.
Asher: No, everything is fine. I’ll text you when we’re wheels up tomorrow.
Cheryl:
Asher: What?
The purple vegetable disappeared before I could send Cheryl a WTF, even I knew what the eggplant meant.
Cheryl: Facepalm emoji. Eye roll emoji.
Cheryl: Sorry, typo, going too fast. We shall never speak of this.
Asher: Happy to oblige. Get some sleep.
She reacted to my last text with a thumbs up and I put my phone on the charger and tuned it out. As convenient as technology was, I cherished the times I could actually turn it all off. I poured myself a Louis XIII, the cognac a beautiful amber color that ribboned down the inside of the Baccarat crystal decanter when I righted it.
I paced the suite as I savored the first sip. It had been a long time since any of this was new to me, but I’d never forget what it was like to be that twenty-three-year old kid dreaming of a suite like this. The wall of windows showed me an L.A. worthy of Hollywood, lights aglow, and, presumably, dreams coming true out there, somewhere.
