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“Did you have to, Bird?” I gripe. “I was planning on avoiding work today.”
“This Olivia must have a magic vagina because you’re avoiding work. You — are you sick? Do I need to get you a Tylenol or something? Xanax?”
“Haha, so funny. I’m just tired, Bird, I wanted a day off.”
“To look for Olivia?”
“It crossed my mind, but no. I just wanted a day off, okay?”
“I call bullshit.” My sister laughs at me. I never take time off, she knows that.
“It’s not like I’m going to find a woman in this city with nothing but her name and the fact she has red hair.” It’s a big city, and women who fit that description are a dime a dozen. Though, to be fair, I’ve never met a woman who has eyes the color of Olivia’s.
“A ginger?” Birdie raises her brows. “Are you sure you’re not sick? You’ve only ever dated ladies with dark hair. It’s your thing.”
“I might have a new thing.” I shrug off her observation, mostly because it is true. I have a very specific type, and Olivia is so not it. She’s the complete opposite, and that’s probably what messed with my head. “And she’s not a ginger, she’s a redhead, as in firetruck red hair.” Why I’m explaining this is beyond me.
“There’s ways to find people.” Birdie might as well have added duh at the end of her statement, as if looking for Olivia is foregone conclusion.
“Now who sounds like a stalker?” I toss back.
“Good God, were you mugged? Is that why your phone is off?” Paige arrives, looking somewhat flustered. She pulls up a chair and takes a seat next to Bird.
“He was up all night getting lucky.” My sister wiggles her eyebrows and waves for the waitress to bring us some coffee, and breakfast pastries. “With a stranger he met in a bar, who’s a not-ginger but has firetruck red hair.” She just keeps going with no regard for my discomfort over the subject.
“Hmm.” Paige crosses her arms, and listens intently to Birdie’s version of my night. Which isn’t completely accurate, but also not too far off.
“He wants to stalk her, but only knows her first name.”
“I don’t want to stalk her,” I grumble. “And I know other stuff about her, you make me sound like weirdo.”
“You are a weirdo,” Paige adds. “A grumpy fucking weirdo. Who picks women up in bars, anyway? There’s Tinder for that, you know.”
“This lady wouldn’t be on Tinder, she is not the type.” I’m not sure what makes me say that, but I know in my gut it’s true. Olivia and Tinder go together like oil and vinegar.
“What type is she? Pay-by-the-hour, or for the experience? Because that’s who you’ll find in hotel bars.” My assistant holds no punches. “Did you deal with Asher?”
“Half-half. I think he got the message.” I gulp down some coffee and buy myself some time from this interrogation while getting a much-needed hit of caffeine.
Paige looks me over, and her expression shifts to that of concern. “Is that his blood on you? Get rid of that, we don’t need evidence if he presses charges.”
“That’s wine that Olivia, the ginger he knows other stuff about, spilled on him at dinner.” These two, Jesus.
“Oh, do tell us, Harlan.” Paige is eating this shit up. “Who is this woman?”
“Her name is Olivia, she has red hair, writes romance books, is completely batshit crazy and is staying at the Langham. Apparently she stays there often. Oh, and she lives in Tribeca.” That’s everything I know in one sentence, and it doesn’t help my attempt at not thinking about her.
“You know enough to find her I’m sure,” Birdie says, more confident in my abilities than I am.
“I don’t know if I want to find her, it was a one night stand. It was fun, but it’s done.” It’s half-true. “Won’t be my first or last one nighter.” I try brush it off like all the others, but I woke up feeling different today. If I’m honest with myself, because I won’t be honest with these two, I felt really rejected waking up alone. It’s not a feeling I’m familiar with, and with any other woman it wouldn’t have bothered me, but Olivia? She’s knocked me completely off kilter.
“I bet you good money he goes back to that hotel tonight,” Paige says to Birdie as I’m not at the same table.
“I’ll put my money on it,” my sister replies. I sigh, simply because I don’t stand a chance in hell when they’re together. They both take great pleasure in ganging up on me.
I frown, not liking their stupid bet. “I have better things to do than wait in a bar for a woman.”
“Like what?” my sister mocks.
