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“Me. I graduated summa cum laude in three years with a double major in business management and economics.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Summa what?”
“Top one percent of my class.”
“Oh. So, you’re, like, smart?”
“I like to think so. And I value intelligence. Tell me why you think I should choose you.”
She pauses and smirks as if the answer is obvious. “Have you looked at me?”
I have. Not only is she vapid, she’s conceited. “I prefer substance to aesthetics.”
“To, ah…what?”
“After sex, looks will only engage me for so long. I need someone smart, witty, and interesting. Are you well read?”
Brittanii hesitates. “Cosmo and Vogue. I don’t read, like, books. It takes too long, and they’re usually yawn-worthy.”
I’m completely unsurprised. “Have you traveled?”
“I’d like to. I thought seeing the world was part of the package.”
“What are your hobbies?”
“Um, well…there’s tanning. And shopping. I’m a good dancer. I get down at clubs almost every weekend. You like going out?”
“Actually, I work somewhere around seventy hours a week. I tend to prefer quiet weekends at home.”
“Ugh, that sounds like something my dad would say. We’d have to do something less boring or this won’t work.”
“It won’t work, regardless, Brittanii. Thank you for your time. Let me show you to the door.”
Wide-eyed, she huffs and rises to her feet. “You’re serious? You’re turning me down?”
“I am.”
“Ugh. And I gave up a nail appointment for this.”
“Good luck finding a man who finds you perfect and charming just as you are.” If he does, he won’t be any smarter or more ambitious than she is, and they will probably suit each other perfectly…as long as he comes equipped with an endless trust fund.
“Well, good luck finding someone better-looking than me. And when you can’t, don’t call.”
With that lovely parting shot, she flounces to my office door, yanks it open, and storms out. She snatches up her coat with such force the rack topples over. She never looks twice at it, much less bothers to pick it up. Then she slams the ante door.
Nia stands behind her desk, blinking in shock. Then she checks her watch. “Eighteen minutes?”
“We didn’t suit.”
“Sorry. At least she was every bit as pretty as her picture suggested.”
I shrug. “That hardly matters. She’s not my type. But we have almost thirty-five minutes before my next appointment arrives. I think you and I need to have a serious conversation.”
“I can’t.” She grimaces. “There’s an emergency with the copier, and you know I’m the only one who can finesse that silly machine. If I don’t go now, the new assistants on the third floor might melt down. Back in thirty!”
Before I can stop her, she’s gone. I curse.
The rest of the day doesn’t improve.
