Bash
From: Penny4YourLobsterPot
To: MagnificentBastard1
Re: Two-Year Anniversary
Dear Bash,
I’m pretty sure you were drunk when you sent that bonus, but ha ha joke’s on you, I’m not giving it back!
But seriously, thank you for your generosity and your trust. I know it was a leap of faith to hire a cultural anthropologist with close to zero employment history as your assistant, and I appreciate it.
Love my job, love the work you’re doing, and can’t wait to grow the business in the coming year!
*doing the two-year anniversary celebration dance*(contains twenty-percent more running man than the one-year anniversary dance.
Penny
From: MagnificentBastard1
To: Penny4YourLobsterPot
Re: Two-Year Anniversary
At least it wasn’t thirty-percent more running man.
That would have been weird….
;)
B
CHAPTER TWO
It’s the perfect day for a messy, public breakup.
The sun is glittering on the Central Park reservoir, the New York City skyline stretches like a work of art across the cloudless horizon, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and I’m looking like six feet three inches of Sex on a Stick in black track pants, a skin tight, moisture-wicking blue running shirt, and obscenely expensive reflective sunglasses.
I usually opt for the just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-hit-the-pavement look for my morning jog, but this run is special. It’s Caroline’s final appointment with Magnificent Bastard Consulting and I intend to make sure she gets everything she paid for, right down to a tear or two if I can squeeze them out.
If not…well, that’s what the sunglasses are for.
“You ready, gorgeous?” I ask, as Caroline and I circle around the half-mile marker, moving steadily closer to a large gathering of people practicing Tai Chi in the grass beneath the trees.
Caroline, a forty-five-year-old betty who deserves much better than the slimy ex-husband I’ve recently helped her ruin, slows beside me. “Maybe we should do another lap. I haven’t gotten my heart rate up yet.”
“This isn’t about getting your heart rate up, doll,” I remind her. “It’s about dumping your lover in front of the man of your dreams and letting Gary know that you’re fierce, fabulous, and back on the market.”
“But he’s doing Tai Chi,” she frets, running a nervous hand over her blond ponytail. “What if he’s annoyed by the interruption?”
“Then he’ll be annoyed with me. I’m the one who’s going to be obnoxious.”
Caroline chuckles. “I find that hard to believe, Bash. You’re the least obnoxious man I’ve ever met.” She pats my shoulder with an affection that makes me glad her crush is too absorbed in his moving meditation to be paying attention to the couple running toward him. “You’re the very best. And if you ever break things off with your girl, I’d love to introduce you to my daughter’s best friend, Lola. She’s lovely and talented and just a few years younger than you.”
“Thank you, but Penny and I are very happy together.” It isn’t a lie. Penny—my virtual assistant and the force of nature who keeps Magnificent Bastard Consulting running like a well-oiled machine—and I are very happy together.
The fact that she’s my employee and we’ve never met in person, let alone formed a long and lasting love relationship, is none of Caroline’s business.
I care about my clients and give a hundred and ten percent while I’m managing their cases, but I learned early on that keeping fantasy separate from reality is much easier if the women I work with believe I’m in a committed relationship. Even when a job doesn’t require handholding and lingering kisses staged for the benefit of an ex who needs to be taught a lesson about the gem he let slip through his fingers, a certain level of intimacy develops when working closely with someone in a fragile emotional state.
Take Caroline for example. We’ve kissed exactly twice: once during our practice session, and once in front of her husband’s office, as he was led away in cuffs after being indicted in an ongoing insider trading investigation. But she’s already taken to hugging me goodbye and trying to set me up with her daughter’s friends. As much as I’ve enjoyed our time together—Penny makes sure the women whose cases are accepted by MBC are the sweetest and most deserving—it’s time for Caroline to spread her wings and hop out of the nest.
Right into Gary Donahue’s strong, Thai-Chi-steadied arms.
Dropping my hands to my hips, I jog to a stop about ten feet from where Gary and the other peaceful exercise enthusiasts are slow-motion ninja fighting and turn to Caroline, a scowl tightening my face. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Caro. You’re not doing this here. In the middle of the park. Ten minutes into our fucking run.”
Caroline’s blue eyes go wide and her gaze darts nervously toward the people gathered in the patchy spring shade.
“Don’t look at him, keep your eyes on me,” I whisper for her ears only before adding in a cutting tone, “Tell me I’m hearing things, Caroline. Because from where I’m standing it sounded like you said you wanted to break up with me.”
“I’m s-sorry, Sebastian,” she stammers, crossing her arms at her chest only to uncross them when I shoot her folded hands a pointed look. We’ve talked about this. She’s not a victim anymore. Not even a pretend victim. From now on, she rolls her shoulders back and stands up for herself.
I watch with pride as her spine stiffens and fire flashes in her eyes. “But my decision is final,” she continues in a firmer voice. “I want more from a relationship than this.”
“More than what?” I shake my head, brow furrowing as I jab my thumb in the direction of the subway entrance. “I took the train twenty minutes so we could run by your apartment instead of mine. And I agreed to go to coffee afterward, and I don’t even like coffee.”
“And I don’t like going to night clubs,” Caroline counters. “Or whiskey bars. Or having to wave my hand in front of your face to pull your attention away from your phone. What is wrong with people under forty, anyway?” She thrusts out her arms as if to embrace the entire park. “The whole wide, wonderful world is rushing by in all its heartbreaking beauty and glory and all you can think about is texting or swiping left or whatever it is you’re doing on there.”
I blink. Ouch.
I haven’t been on a dating app in a while, but I have an addiction to refreshing my e-mail that I’ve indulged freely during my time with Caroline, earning my share of heavy sighs from her that I’ve ignored the way I ignore the heavy sighs of my own mother. But the fact that Caro has brought something real into a fake fight stings a little.
The sting helps add an extra layer of asshole to my words as I sneer, “Well, maybe if you weren’t so boring, sweetheart, I’d have a reason to look up from my phone once in a while.”
Caroline’s jaw drops and her next breath emerges in a huff, accompanied by a flap of her arms at her sides. “Well, if I’m so boring, then you should be glad I’m breaking up with you! Instead of yelling at me in the middle of the park.”
My lips part to form a retort worthy of a swift kick in the ass from Gary—if he’s listening and has any balls at all—but Caroline jumps in before I can speak.
“You’re just an overgrown child,” she says, propping her hands on her hips. “You’re so used to getting your own way that you don’t know how to behave when someone calls you on your bullshit. But I’ve already raised three children, Sebastian, and I have no desire to raise any more.”
She lifts her chin, somehow managing to look down her nose at me despite the fact that I’ve got six inches on her. “Now it’s time for you to go before you make any more of a fool of yourself than you have already.”
I shake my head, concentrating on keeping an outraged expression on my face even though I’m so proud all I want to do is scoop Caroline up in a big hug.
This isn’t the same shattered, b
roken woman who sat down across my desk six weeks ago. This is a woman who has taken her vengeance on the man who abused and demoralized her for nearly twenty years. A woman who has learned to feel beautiful and confident in her own skin.
A woman who is going to knock Gary, who is finally moving across the grass to come to her rescue, off of his feet.
Because Caroline doesn’t need rescuing anymore. She just needs the man she hired to help her reclaim her life out of the picture so she can move forward with the coworker she’s had a crush on for months.
“Fine.” I whip off my glasses and pin her with a wounded glare. “But don’t come begging for a second chance when you realize you’ve dumped the best lay in Manhattan.”
Amusement flickers in her eyes, but she manages a cool nod. “Goodbye, Sebastian.”
“Goodbye, Caroline,” I say, before adding in a whisper. “And good luck, gorgeous. You’re magnificent.”
CHAPTER THREE
Knowing my work here is done, I turn on my heel and jog across the gently rolling hills toward Central Park West, ignoring the male voice shouting that I should “keep walking, asshole!”
Gary, I assume, the Prince Charming too dense to notice the beautiful woman making eyes at him across the art gallery for the past six months.
Color me unimpressed.
Caroline is more than a decade older than my thirty-two and not even close to my type—I prefer brunettes with dark eyes and curves to slim, willowy blondes—but I wouldn’t be able to pass her on the street without taking a second look, let alone work alongside her every day and remain oblivious to her charms. A pretty face is only one of the many things Caro has to offer. She is also kind, thoughtful, generous, and an excellent conversationalist.
I advised her to expand her dating options, but she was determined to catch Gary’s eye, and who am I to turn down the consulting fees it took to throw the two lovebirds together?
I have an investment portfolio that would make the King of Persia weep with envy and Magnificent Bastard Consulting has never been about the money—if I wanted a more extravagant lifestyle than the one I already enjoy, I would still be working as a corporate raider—but I do enjoy the finer things in life.
Things like a few thumbs of Laphroaig Triple Wood Irish Whiskey at the end of a long day. Or at the beginning of one.
It’s Sunday, an excellent day for day drinking, and I’m a free man for the next week. I’m taking my first vacation since I started the business and see no reason not to start celebrating.
And chances are I won’t have to drink alone.
As I reach the edge of the park and turn left on the sidewalk, moving south along Central Park West, I glance over my shoulder to see my tail still following at a discreet distance, though nothing about Aidan could be called inconspicuous. Six feet five, with the shoulders of a linebacker, a lumberjack beard, and full sleeve tattoos on each arm, Aidan is the type that turns heads. Men want to keep an eye on a potential threat and women just want to keep an eye on him. Period.
He’s going to be the perfect addition to MB Consulting…as soon as I convince him to sign on the dotted line.
Hopefully, this morning has been educational for my furry-faced friend.
I turn and lean against a graffiti-covered mailbox, grinning as I wait for Aidan to catch up. When he does, his first words—
“You were a fucking asshole back there.”
—make me smile even wider.
“I prefer bastard,” I say. “It’s important to stay on brand. Want to hit Highland Fling? I like to celebrate the end of a job with scotch. My treat.”
He grunts. “Sure, I’ll drink with you, but I still can’t believe that woman actually paid you for that.”
“For that and the rest of the package.” I clap him on the shoulder. “But I take care of the detective work and the behind the scenes revenge elements. All you’ll have to do is look pretty and put on a good show for the exes.”
“I don’t know, man.” Aidan scratches at his beard. “I’m a tattoo artist, not an actor. I don’t know if I could pull off something like that.”
“That’s why we practice with the clients ahead of time,” I say, waving away his concern. “And you’ll be amazed how gullible people are. As long as you’re saying the right things, nine of out ten times no one will notice if you’re saying them the wrong way.”
“Comforting words coming from the man who’s been my best friend since middle school,” he says dryly. “Careful, or I’m going to think this entire bromance has been a lie.”
“Our bromance is my only truth,” I deadpan. “And I only lie to people who don’t deserve better.”
He grunts again, proving he’ll be the perfect rough-around-the-edges foil to the smooth, sexy, successful businessman experience I provide.
“But there’s no need to make a decision now,” I assure him as we start toward Midtown and one of my favorite whiskey bars. “Let me hook you up with Penny. I’ll text you her phone number and you two can discuss all the semantics while I’m soaking up the sun in the Hamptons. Get the facts, think on it, and you can let me know at the end of the month.”
“Who goes to the Hamptons the first week of May?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Isn’t that a summer thing?”
I shrug. “Usually. But I enjoy the beach on a sixty-degree day. I enjoy not dealing with the fucking summer crowds even more. Penny booked me into a guesthouse at a winery in Southampton.”
“Sounds epic,” Aidan says, amusement in his voice. “Bet you’ll get laid like crazy out there with all the blue hairs on vacation.”
I shoot him a narrow look. “I get laid plenty around here. I’m looking for peace, not pussy.”
He snorts. “And that’s not weird at all.”
I don’t dignify that comment with a response. There’s nothing weird about wanting to unplug for a few days, especially after the past two years.
I’ve been working—and playing—non-stop. If I wasn’t with a client, I was with one in a long line of beautiful women who were all too eager to help me forget the one who got away. Not to be an arrogant son of a bitch, but I’ve never had trouble getting laid. I bear a striking resemblance to a certain square jawed, blue eyed, super-hero-playing movie star but with better hair, and I’m every bit as magnificent in the sack as I am at the vengeance business.
The Incredible Bulk delivers on all levels—size, appearance, and performance. My cock has been called magical in four different languages and I have no doubt that if there is a single beddable girl in the Hamptons, I could get her naked and underneath me with a minimal degree of effort.
But I don’t want to bang a stranger in my vacation cottage. I just want peace, quiet, and some time to think.
Time to consider why, over two years after things ended with Rachael, I still haven’t met a single girl I want to keep around for longer than a few weeks.
At first, playing the field was therapeutic, a way to forget how much it hurt to know I’d been dumped in favor of a man who gives new meaning to the phrase Heartless Douchebag. But now I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get out of the serial dating rut. I never aspired to be a manwhore, but somewhere between Savanna the cocktail waitress, the first woman to take me home post-ugly-breakup, and Wendy from the gym last week, I’ve slipped into a disturbing pattern.
A pattern that, while pleasurable, has left me feeling…adrift, unsatisfied, and maybe just a tiny bit lonely.
It’s time to step back and take a long hard look at my life. I’m actually looking forward to some time alone away from it all. And if things get uncomfortable below the belt while I’m reflecting, I’ll take care of it myself.
Despite what Aidan seems to think, a week of spanking it out to porn never killed anyone.
“Fine,” he says, with a sigh. “Hook me up with Penny and I’ll give it some serious thought. I’m not going to raise the money to open another Ink Addicts location working twelve hour days in the West Village.”
“Smart man.” I pull my phone from my pocket, refreshing my e-mail, frowning when I see there’s nothing new from Penny. She usually checks in at least once by ten a.m. and I haven’t heard from her since last night.
Concerned, I shoot her a quick text—
What’s up buttercup?
Just finished with Caro and am a free man. Heading to Highland Fling in Midtown with Aidan.
Let me know if you want to join. Drinks before noon are always on the boss and Aidan wants to pick your business brain before he agrees to join the fun.
As I slide my phone back into my pocket, my fingertips tingle.
Will today be the day Penny finally decides to take me up on my offer to meet in the outside world?
For the past two years, we’ve averaged ten e-mails and numerous texts every day and several epic phone conversations each week. But despite the fact that she only lives across the river in Brooklyn, we’ve never met in person. Like any good Manhattanite, I loathe leaving my preferred stomping grounds, but I would hop an L train for her.
Aside from Aidan, the woman is my best friend. She’s been with me from day one when people were still telling me I was insane to abandon a successful career to take up shop as a detective/male gigolo—minus the fun parts of being a gigolo.
When I’m with a client, things never go further than a kiss.
It’s the first of the ground rules Penny helped me put together in the early days. She’s been invaluable at making Magnificent Bastard Consulting, and my life post-corporate America, a success.
I would very much like to buy her a whiskey before I go on my soul-searching vacation. Or a coffee. Or an ice cream—we both have a weakness for any brand made with whole milk and containing obscene amounts of fat.
I know that and a hundred other things about her, but I’ve never seen so much as a selfie of the woman who vets my clients.
I don’t know when it started to bother me so much that I don’t have a face to put with Penny’s unexpectedly sweet voice or the snarky e-mails that litter my inbox, but recently I’ve started to wonder if there’s something wrong with me.
1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine Page 70
