She nods, looking relieved. “Anything.”
“Can you distract him so I can slip out of here unnoticed?”
“Absolutely. I’ll take him another drink and flirt a little bit,” she says, grabbing a glass, and filling it with whatever he’s drinking.
“Thank you. And just a little word of advice, avoid that man like the plague.”
She gives me a mock salute and balances the tray with his drink in her hand. “Will do. Have a good night.”
I watch her go, and then make a beeline for the front door, handing the valet my slip as soon as I make it down the steps. As I wait for them to bring my car around, I continually glance over my shoulder, hoping that Blake doesn’t come looking for me before the car gets here. When it finally pulls up and I’m still alone, I breathe a sigh of relief and say a mental thanks to that bartender. I drive away from the restaurant, worry knotting my stomach as I wonder if I’ve done enough to get this job or if I’m going to lose my dream because of Blake Lucas.
* * * *
I’ve got to be honest with you all, it’s been awhile since I dated. And while I’d love to sit here and tell you that I met my soul mate and we’re getting married next week, that’s not what happened. This week did however make me think to try again, and I guess I can be thankful for that. But just not like this. After going through the process of online dating, I’m not sure how anyone meets a special someone online. It seems so exhausting. Most of all, you can’t force these things. I am a big believer in fate, and when it’s time for you to meet the person you’re supposed to be with, it will happen. You shouldn’t have to clench your teeth to get through dinner, and you certainly don’t want to spend the entire evening looking for one redeemable quality in your date because you’re so lonely that your whole body aches. Hold out. Love will find you when the time is right and then suddenly all of this will make sense. At least, I hope it will.
Tapping my pen against the table, I read through my article three more times before sighing. I start chewing on the cap and wonder if I should really send this in. I went through and documented my three dates in excruciating detail before ending it with my little message of hope, and I know that Mr. Klein is going to hate it. When he assigned this, he wanted something sexy and fun. If I send this in, I’m basically handing this job to Chelsea. But, on the other hand, I don’t know that I could stomach lying and acting like this past week was a fun time for me. And what good would it do my readers if I lied?
After all three dates, I just feel like I’m done. I’m done with letting these guys walk all over me. From Mr. Klein to each of the dates, I’ve been sufficiently trampled by men, and I’m so goddamn sick of it. I’m mad at myself for even agreeing to this. That day in his office, I should have told Mr. Klein exactly where to shove it when he suggested this. Everyone in the office knows that promotion should be mine, and yet, I was subjected to this little “test.” What will I do, though? If I send this in, tell my boss to shove it, and get fired, how will I support myself?
The doorbell rings, and I glance down the hallway toward the front door, remembering that Izzy and Carly are coming over as I toss my pen down and stand up. Taking one last look at my article, I sigh and close my computer, pushing it away from where I was sitting before going to the door, and flinging it open. I do my best to plaster a fake smile on my face but the moment Izzy sees me, her eyes narrow and she shakes her head.
“I don’t think so, sister. That fake ass smile isn’t convincing anyone,” she says, and despite my sour mood, I can’t help but laugh. She knows me so damn well, and she has absolutely no filter. If it pops into her head, it comes out of her mouth, and it’s one of the reasons I love her so much. You never have to guess where you stand with Iz. If she’s pissed, you’ll know.
“Where’s the wine?” she asks, shoving past me.
“Kitchen,” I call over my shoulder. She’s already halfway down the hallway, and I just shake my head and laugh again. Carly steps up and wraps me up in a hug. I feel a little of my stress melt away as she gives me a squeeze and releases me.
“I heard all about the article, Hon. It’s absolute bullshit. Chelsea’s boasting all over the office that she’s got this in the bag, and I wanted to stab her with my heel.”
I throw my head back and laugh, imagining Carly taking off her favorite four-inch black heels and digging them into Chelsea’s arm. I met Carly Mills when she started working at the paper shortly after I did, and we became friends instantly. She’s more mellow than Izzy, and I feel like she brings a balance to our group. “Well, that would make this whole thing a whole lot better.”
“Ladies!” Izzy yells from my kitchen, and Carly and I both turn to look at her. “If you don’t get in here, this bottle is going to be gone.”
I chuckle as I shut the door and turn to Carly. “What’s her deal tonight?”
“She’s irritated that she doesn’t know what’s going on with you. And she was kind of excited that she thought you were starting to date again.”
I just roll my eyes as we walk into the kitchen. Izzy’s sitting at my kitchen table with a big smile on her face and full wine glasses in front of three chairs.
“You’re impatient,” I tell her, and she nods, sliding my glass closer to me as I sit down.
“Yes, I am. Now, drink and spill.”
I eye the glass warily and look up at her again. “You didn’t slip truth serum in here or something, did you?”
Her eyes light up, and I start laughing. “No, but do you know where I can get some?”
“No.”
She pouts a little and scoots the glass a little closer. “Too bad.”
My gaze flicks to Carly who just shakes her head with a smile on her face as she brings the glass to her lips and takes a sip. Sighing, I do the same and look back to Izzy.
“Come on, lady. I’ve been waiting for days!”
“You need a Xanax,” I say, getting a little bit of pleasure from making her wait a little longer. Her eyes practically bug out of her head, and she looks like she’s about to explode.
“Alison Marie James! Now.” Her voice leaves no room for argument so I sigh and launch into telling them about the article and the first date.
“Idiot,” Izzy snorts when I tell them the part about the obstacle course.
I nod and continue telling them about the rest of the date, and when I finish, Izzy’s mouth is hanging open.
“Oh, no, he didn’t,” she seethes, and I nod.
“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction. Hence, why I called you.”
Shaking her head, she takes a big sip of wine. “Sweetie, if that had been me, I would have been calling you for bail money.”
I point at her and nod. “I just reminded myself that orange was not my color.”
“What about date number two?” Carly asks, hope in her eyes that maybe it wasn’t as bad.
“Ah, date number two was Zach,” I say and begin to tell them about the dinner from hell. When I finish, they’re both giving me looks of sympathy.
“Well, that’s fucking awkward,” Izzy says, taking a sip of her wine, and I laugh.