“Yes, I’m fine.”Her voice is forced and a little too high pitched. Both attributes give away her lie. But I drop it. We’ll talk about it later, when we’re alone. An awkward silence fills the space between us, until Drew and Jarred arrive back at our table. Drew places my drink on the table, and takes a seat alongside me. “One dirty martini for the lady,” he says, smirking at me. Something about it makes my skin crawl.
“Thanks.”
“So, Cassey,” Drew begins. He smiles at me in with what I think is meant to be a flirtatious grin, but instead it’s just creepy. “Tell me about yourself.”
And so it begins. The tedious process of divulging the little nuances that make me Cassey Emerson. The only time I don’t pretend to be interested in our boring conversation is when I tell Drew about my job. I can’t help the excitement in my voice when I talk about my career, and how much I love what I do. Not that Drew is paying any attention. He’s too busy texting on his phone. So I change the topic, and ask about him instead.
Big mistake. While he prattles on about his own job (of course he’s an investment banker, duh.) and the material objects that he owns, I notice three things. 1. He’s vain, to the point that if I gave him a mirror, he’d probably flirt with his own reflection. 2. He’s a douche bag. And 3. Kyler hasn’t taken his eyes off of us since Drew sat down next to me. I can feel the penetrating heat of his cool blue eyes boring into the side of my face. I chance a peek, but as soon as my head turns, he looks away, pretending to be enthralled by the busty blonde currently attached to his side.
Whatever.
I think I’ve had enough of egotistical men and their idiocies for one night. I’ll just have to satisfy the ache between my legs with a hot bath and my B.O.B. He never lets me down.
“Well, kids, I’m going home,” I say, finishing off my drink, and interrupting Drew mid-sentence. Or is it mid-text? Oh who gives a fuck. He’s a schmuck.
“But it’s still early,” Quinn whines.
“I’m tired,” I lie. If my Southern manners weren’t so deeply embedded in my brain I would tell them all I’m bored as hell. But I won’t. Instead I make some feeble excuse about a late night last night, which Quinn knows is complete rubbish, and gather my purse.
“Are you coming home tonight?” I ask Quinn, standing up.
“No, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
I hug her goodbye, and head for the door.
“It was nice meeting you, Drew. Maybe I’ll see you again some time.” He smiles, having the audacity to look disappointed that I’m leaving. “You too, Cassey..”
I leave the crowded bar and hail a cab instead of walking all the way home.Too bad I can’t get far enough away from the cool blue eyes that now belong to a real face. A face that is more than what I conjured up in a dream.
∞
I walk into my little office, feeling energized and enthusiastic about my day. I take out my company issued MacBook Pro and connect it to the monitor on my desk, before walking the short distance to our kitchenette. The smell of fresh coffee assaults my nose and even though I stopped at Starbucks this morning on my way to the office, I can’t resist a fresh cup of java.
I mentally run through my To-Do list for today as I walk back to my office, coffee in hand. The office is still pretty quiet, and I decided to come in an hour earlier today to get some extra work done.
I startle when my desk phone rings, and narrowly miss coffee being spilt on my ivory pencil skirt.
“Cassey Emeron speaking.”
A warm, deep voice greets me on the other end and I grip my coffee mug tighter, just to stop my skin from breaking out in goosebumps. “Good Morning, Miss Emerson.”
It takes me a minute to recognize the voice. I’m a little distracted by the way it practically melts over my name. Sweet baby Jesus.
I finally find my own voice and force my words out, trying not to sound affected. “Good morning, Mr. Knight. What can I do for you?”
“We have some things to discuss. I will have lunch ready for us in my office at twelve p.m sharp. I expect you to be on time.” His tone is clipped, agitated almost, and I wonder what it is that we could possibly have to discuss. Unless he’s going to chew me a new one for being a little rude to him last night.
“Okay, Mr. Knight,” I reply politely. The line clicks and he’s gone. I stare at my phone as if it might possibly have an explanation for what just happened. After several minutes, I finally put my phone down and pull myself towards myself enough to start working. I check my emails, glancing at the clock every fifteen minutes as it gets closer to twelve o’clock. By now the office has filled up and there are people teeming around trying to cram as much as they into one day. At eleven, my desk phone rings, breaking me out of my work-induced haze. “Cassey Emerson speaking,” I say automatically.
“Hey bitch.” It’s Quinn.
I smile. “Well if it isn’t my nymphomaniac best friend,” I reply, teasing. “Oh shut up. You’re just jealous because you’re not getting any sexy time.” I snort. “Okay, Quinny, whatever you say.”
“You could remedy that you know. Just have one night with Kyler and you’ll be good to go.”
“Is there another reason you called, besides encouraging me to screw my new boss?”
Quinn hums on the other end of the line, and I can picture her at her desk, a pencil in her hand with an article in front of her and her dark rimmed glasses she only wears at the office.
“Oh yes,” she exclaims. “Drew is going to call you. I think he might ask you to go as his date to his parents anniversary next weekend.”
I groan. “Why?” There’s a brief pause and then it hits me. “And how the hell did he get my number, Quinn?”
Silence. Except for Quinn’s breathing on the other end.
“Quinn?”
“Ok, fine,” she sighs. “I gave it to him after you left. I thought you two could get to know each other while’s in the city this week.”
“And you didn’t think to ask me before giving him my number?” “I didn’t think you’d mine, Cass.”
“Well, I do. I don’t like him, and if you have some elaborate plot up your sleeve to get me to sleep with him, you have a better chance of getting me into bed with Kyler.”
Saying his name makes me look up at the clock. Only fifteen minutes have passed, and I feel like time is deliberately slowing down to torture me. “Speaking of which,” I add quickly. “He called me.”
“Who did? Kyler?” Quinn’s voice raises an octave and I can literally hear her perk up.
“Yes. He told me to meet him in his office. He’s ordering lunch?” “Did he say why he wants to see you?”
“All he said was that we have something to talk about, and then he hung up.” Quinn goes quiet for a few moments, thinking about what this means, no doubt.
“I give it two weeks,” she says.
I frown. “Give what two weeks?” I ask, confused by her statement. “That’s how long it’ll take before you screw him.”
My irritation starts to boil, simmering just below the surface. Quinn is being too pushy about this, and it’s starting to annoy me. “Are you being serious right now, Quinn?”