Then, slowly, people began getting up, their bags slung over their shoulders, and filing out of the office one by one and in groups. There were twenty-two of them – a classroom – and Tasha did feel like their teacher. She watched them go as she made herself one more cup of coffee. She still had things to do that evening, and preferred having that time to herself, without anyone disturbing her.
“Ms. Hendricks? Anything else I can do tonight?” It was Ann.
“I can’t think of anything, no. See you Monday.”
For some reason Ann thought herself to be Tasha’s number one student. Ann had even said once herself: “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” Tasha wondered if the saying had anything to offer regarding the teacher’s readiness.
The girl left a little disappointed, but hopefully aware of the fact that her attitude had been noticed and commended.
Tasha got her coffee and went back to her office. She still had a hundred emails to go through, mostly from the same guys who had just left. Most business communications she saved for the official workdays, while Saturday nights were perfect for sorting out the copious amount of data that had flown her way over the week.
She spent a little over an hour copying and pasting, reading through documents and making sense of various graphs, finding out a lot about how microprocessors worked, which turned out to be more fascinating than she’d expected.
Finally, she shut her laptop and put it away into its case. She took off her heels and put on flats, before leaving the office. The driver was already downstairs, ready to take her home. She owned a car, of course, but driving in New York City was nobody’s idea of fun, and Tasha had no time to waste behind the wheel, staring at taillights, especially those LED ones that were so bright they hurt your eyes.
So, she had a driver. A needless luxury, some would say, but it allowed her to make calls and read emails on her rides to work and back home, all in the comfort of a wide leather seat. She typed a few letters and made a short call to arrange dry cleaning and such, before arriving at the brownstone. The car stopped at the curb, and Tasha stepped out.
“Day off tomorrow, Jay,” she said.
“Have a good weekend, Ms. H!” he replied.
Tasha shut the door and entered the building. Her apartment was on the sixth floor. It was a nice four-room place with a backyard area made into a patio with a small garden. She opened the front door and stepped inside – finally home. Both the flats and the heels went onto the shoe shelf underneath the coat hanger, but she took the handbag with her to the kitchen counter. She got the laptop out, set it up on the counter and went to the dressing room.
The suit went neatly on to a hanger, and then she changed into her favorite PJs that featured flowers and bees. Tasha Hendricks was all business at work, but at home she loved to relax and be cozy.
Back in the kitchen she got a store-bought cheese plate out of the fridge and a bottle of red wine from the wooden stand in the corner. She was no wine connoisseur, but had a number of labels she knew she enjoyed, and usually bought those. She used an automatic bottle opener she had gotten for a birthday at work, and poured half the bottle into a tall glass. These few evening hours were her only weekend really when she could allow herself some alcohol, and Tasha liked to get the most out of it.
She fired up Netflix and moved to the couch, where she synced the laptop with the flat screen TV, and relaxed in the pillows. It was heaven. She settled on a sitcom – she had enough drama at work – and tore open the cheese plate. The wine was delicious, making the show even funnier. It was a typical evening for her – quiet and pleasantly lonely.
Her phone rang right around the time she’d finished the first episode, and the ringtone told her who the caller was: Freddy Mercury was singing You’re My Best Friend. A bit too on the nose, but Tasha loved that song, and so did Kelly.
“Hey there!” she said, and finished the glass.
“Busy tonight?” Kelly asked. There was loud music in the background, muffling her voice. Kelly wasn’t a clubber girl, but she liked to dance every once in a while. Tasha – not so much.
“Nah, I’m absolutely exhausted, Kel. All I need is to finish that bottle and go to sleep. Do you wanna come over afterwards?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll be out cold by that time, hon!” There was laughter on the other end, and then the music ceased, presumably as Kelly walked into a bathroom.
“Tomorrow, then?” Tasha asked. She got off the couch and went to the kitchen to refill her drink. Had Kelly called half an hour later, Tasha would have probably been tipsy enough to actually go out.
“How about a late lunch at, say, four? At the Caffe Bene near my place.”
“Sounds good, Kel.”
“Alright. Gotta go, Tash, g’night!”
Tasha hung up, and emptied the rest of the bottle into the glass. The leftover chicken breast she’d ordered yesterday served as dinner, and Tasha watched two more episodes, eating and chasing it down with wine. The evening was very close to perfection, in her opinion.
Afterwards she threw the dishes into the kitchen sink and went to take a shower. It was a daily ritual of hers: literally washing off the day’s tiredness and sweat. Grabbing a bottle of Perrier mineral water from the fridge, she went to the bedroom, where she climbed between the sheets. The bed was too big for her alone, but the extra space was welcome. Tasha sprawled on her back and was a sleep seconds after her head had hit the pillow.
*****
The alarm went off at eight in the morning, its usual Sunday time. Tasha got up slowly, but not at all hungover – no hair of the dog required – she’d finished the water bottle halfway through the night, which helped filter out the wine. Regardless, there was an identical bottle waiting in the fridge, to fully restore the mineral balance. This, too, was part of the routine – a tested method of staying active and in good health. Tasha downed half the bottle while the coffeemaker buzzed, shifting from one foot to another, getting ready to stretch. Of course, coffee wasn’t the ideal beverage to start the day with, especially not before a run, but it was a ritual, and she liked the taste and the smell of properly brewed coffee in the morning. She drank a small cup and then the rest of the water, and went back to the bedroom to put on her running clothes.
A dozen laps around the block, with earphones playing energetic music woke her up for good, and she returned to the apartment dancing. Dropping off the sweaty clothes at the washing machine, she took a cool shower and washed her hair. It was half past ten when she got dressed. Kelly was still asleep, no question about that, which gave Tasha a few hours to work. The flood of emails to her inbox never stopped, and she had to at least mark important ones to read on Monday, while simultaneously filtering out the spam (it wasn’t all ads, there were often letters from coworkers chatting about nothing work-related or asking her things she had no time to discuss). She ate a hearty breakfast to go with the work, sitting at the kitchen counter. The morning was bright and hot – perfect weather to stay inside and work. It was easy to concentrate, knowing everyone was on a weekend and wouldn’t interrupt her. It was time well spent.
At twenty to four she finally shut off the computer and got ready to go out. Kelly would be late of course, but Tasha liked to be on time. It was a skill she’d practiced for years, and knew from experience that being ten minutes early could never hurt, while being one minute late could be crucial. Timing was everything.
She was at the Caffe Bene four minutes early, which was acceptable, and took a table by the window. Surprisingly, Kelly was there ten minutes later and joined her. The coffee place served mostly sandwiches and salads, which was what they got. Kelly told her friend all about the previous night, which included mostly drinking and dancing, culminating in a one-night stand – a regular Saturday night, in other words. Tasha wasn’t a fan of that life style, but Kelly managed to pull it off just fine.
“How are you feeling?” Tash asked.
“I’m getting there. You?”
&
nbsp; Tasha thought about it. There had been a sort of a nagging feeling as of late, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but very present. She said, “Missing something.” She frowned, a bit embarrassed. They’d been friends since high school, but Tasha still wasn’t used to admitting to what she perceived as weakness.
“Ah, should’ve gone with me last night, Tash. We’d have found you a proper man with a working cock.”
“Hey, shush!” Tasha looked around the café as her friend laughed. Nobody seemed to have heard them.
“Seriously though, when was the last time you had sex? College?”
“You want to discuss that?” Tasha asked.
“Well, I tell you everything, Tasha. In detail, too.”
“In unnecessary detail, mind you.”
“Admit it, you enjoy the hell out of my stories!”
Tasha couldn’t say she didn’t. Her friend had little sense of modesty and, being an English major, very rich vocabulary. Her stories were a nice break in the otherwise monotonous days.
“Tell you what. Let’s go have a drink tonight, Tash, and maybe you’ll make some guy lucky, mm?”
“You know what? Let’s do it!”
They had already paid, so Kelly grabbed Tash by the hand and they stormed out into the evening hotness. They walked to some place Kelly said wasn’t half bad, a bar just off Broadway, making plans for the night. Tash wasn’t going to party the night away, but a beer or two could do her good, she decided. Plus, the idea of getting with a proper man was growing on her the closer they were getting to their destination.
Kelly ordered for them both, skillfully charming the bartender into charging them only for one drink. The bar was far from full, but there were a few groups of guys here and there watching an unimportant game on the flat screens and drinking beer and Whiskey-Colas.
“See anything you like?” Kelly asked.
“Not particularly, Kel, no.” They clinked bottle, and Tash took a sip.
“Barkeep, we’ll need another one here!”
The beers arrived shortly, cold and steaming. They half-turned on the stools, so that they could observe the bar comfortably. Kelly continued:
“What about those two in the corner?”
“Oh, sure,” Tasha replied sarcastically, “as long as you get the one with the goatee!”
“Point taken. Moving on. The football fans?”
There was a group of five guys around a table, wearing colorful jerseys and laughing loudly.
“They look dumb, Kel.”
“It’s not like you’re gonna be discussing civil law, Tash!”
“What if I am?”
“Then we’re at the wrong kind of bar, sister!” Another reason Tasha hang out with Kel – she could always be counted on to deliver a smart joke.
Kelly said, “Okay, how about those two?”
There were two well-dressed guys across the bar from them. Too well dressed and consumed in their conversation. One of them was drinking a beer, while the other had a glass of Vodka Cranberry.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Kelly asked.
“Yep.”
They turned back to the counter in sync and grabbed the newly arrived bottles.
“Cheers, sister,” Kelly said.
In the end they spent the night at the counter, slowly finishing their beers and talking. For Tasha, it was the perfect way to spend that time. The whole notion of being picked up by guys at a bar was beneath her. In a way, she thought, it was elitist to think that, but it was true. For the past several years she’d considered herself a grown-up, and rightfully so, and thus hooking up drunkenly seemed horrible, like something seventeen-year-old Tasha could’ve done. It was easier for Kelly – she was a freelancer, writing articles for a fashion magazine, so for her such shenanigans were research more than anything else.
They ended up paying for only half of what they’d drank (which cost Kelly a sexy smooch), and left the fine establishment around seven, without as much as exchanging looks with any of the men there.
Kelly walked Tasha home arm in arm, and then took a cab home. She new Tash had a busy schedule and didn’t want to mess with it.
*****
Monday, as always, was a busy day. Tasha Hendricks arrived at work before everyone but Ann, who was already in her cubicle, actively typing something. Tasha gave her a short professional nod, and Ann returned it with an added half-smile. The girl had a future. Tasha walked straight in to her office to set up. There was still time to get ready for the day at a measured pace, even though her position would’ve allowed for her to do that after the day’s start. That, however, wasn’t Tasha’s way. She changed from flats into high heels while the laptop booted, and went for some coffee. Losing no time, she carried on checking her emails (she started the process on the ride to work). Scrolling down the list, among the regular correspondence she saw a letter marked with a red star – a rare indicator, reserved only for special occasions. She tapped the letter.
The attached picture said:
Annual Gala
May 3rd, 2015
The Manhattan Royal Hotel
8PM – Midnight
Join us to celebrate the end of this fiscal year and enjoy live music and delicious meal catered by Manny’s Catering!
Beneath that in small font the invitation provided other details, including contacts and some information about the host – SEF. The abbreviation stood for South East Finance, Tasha’s biggest client and a Fortune 500 company with market capitalization just under 12 billion dollars. She’d been assigned to the company only a few months prior, but had already helped them make three huge deals, which, judging by the invitation in her hand, had worked out fine.
Tasha was sure there was a physical copy of the invitation, as well, likely waiting for her down with the rest of the office post. These days communication via physical paper just wasn’t fast enough.
Tasha went back to her laptop and read the letter again, this time on the bigger screen. This was huge! Of course, every company had an annual party – Tasha’s firm was no exception – and all these parties were more or less the same: all you can eat buffet, low alcohol drinks, a speech from the CEO. The only difference here would be the crucial one – the attendees. Networking was as important in their business as hard work, and the Gala was a perfect opportunity to make new connections and potential clients. Who knew, she could add another “fortuner” to the roster.
The rest of the day Tasha spent uplifted, powered by positive energy, finding herself smiling several times during the day. The work was painstaking, yet every thought of the Gala brought new joy and lightness, alleviating all tedium.
An envelope with the invitation arrived after lunch, but Tasha didn’t open it just then. She thought she’d hold a semi-official ceremony in the evening, at home, with a glass of good wine and soft music playing through the speakers of her sound system. She clocked out at eight and as always waited for the office to empty. Once sure she was alone, Tasha shook off her shoes and texted Kelly the news. Networking was great and all, but the most exciting part of it was something every girl could relate to. Choosing the dress!
Kelly replied immediately, with several lines of Emojis, not all of them decipherable within the context. Naturally, Kelly was over the moon, demanding to know when she could come over for a little celebration of their own. They still had a few weeks before the event, but like with most occasions, starting early couldn’t hurt.
Chapter 2
They had a drink at Tasha’s place that very evening. Kelly improvised a silly toast, and Tasha ripped open the envelope and produced the invitation. It was a thick piece of paper with high quality print, but otherwise it didn’t quite live up to the girls’ expectations. It was by all accounts a worthless piece of paper that wouldn’t be required to enter the event – they had a list for that – and there wasn’t even Tasha’s name on the paper. Still, it was nice to have it and to know that it was sent directly to her, and that she w
ould be expected at the Manhattan Royal Hotel.
They had another celebration the following weekend, although Kelly used the Gala as an excuse to drag Tasha out, once again to a loud bar, where she, Kelly, tried hooking her up with a number of guys, ranging from boring to sleazy. They hit on her, too, asking for her number, but all got turned down.
Thankfully, that night Tasha left the bar alone and shared the bed with nobody. She wouldn’t admit it if asked, but she felt bummed out about that. A part of her wanted to be reckless and immature, to go out at night and hook up with a sexy stranger. A proper man with a working cock, as Kelly put it. It was a fantastic scenario that existed completely outside of her normal life, and which she imagined sometimes in her head. She was sure she’d do it, too. What could be easier than getting drunk and leaving with a guy? Tasha certainly wouldn’t have a problem finding one, if so she desired. And yet…
With those thoughts she drifted off.
On Sunday a week before the event they went for a round of shopping on 5th Ave. Tasha didn’t like being unnecessarily wasteful, but Kelly talked her into raiding only the best stores. It stood to reason, too – the Gala was a one of a kind event, and she would only have one chance to make a good first impression.
She settled for a long Dior cocktail dress, classic white and to the floor, with exposed back and ¾ sleeves. To finish the look Kelly chose a par of golden earrings and a bracelet for her. Not too flashy, but tasteful and perfect for the occasion. Naturally, they weren’t happy after just buying the dress; so they went on to buy a few more things for Tasha and some for Kelly.
It was a nice afternoon, and they had lunch at one of the plazas, shopping bags at their feet.
*****
Next Sunday Tasha started getting ready at noon: she took a tour to the salon for mani-pedi and to get her hair done; a make-up artist would visit her later at her home to put on the final touch. She put on the dress at 6:30, in front of the mirror in her wardrobe. It emphasized all the right curves and left much to the imagination. The high heels matched the elegant clutch she picked, and with all pieces of the puzzle in place she was ready for the night.
Her Russian Millionaire (BWWM Romance Book 1) Page 14
