She stiffens at that, and I put my arm around her. “There’s only one woman I can’t take my eyes off,” I scold her softly. “Only one woman that matters. You should know that.”
“I still can’t believe it,” she says. “I mean, come on. You two are among the city’s most eligible bachelors.”
“That sounds like the Post talking,” Daniel replies. “If ‘eligible’ is a calculation of our net worth, then yes, I guess we are very eligible. But we work all the time, and we’d probably make terrible boyfriends. I don’t think you could drag Sebastian into a dance club, even if you dangled a third Michelin star in front of him. I mean, look at us now. One of us is working, the other has no energy to do anything other than watch Sports Centre.”
“That’s a lie, baby, don’t listen to him.” I wink at Bailey. “I have plenty of energy for what matters.” I put my hand on her thigh and move it up toward her sweet, sweet pussy, and she giggles and brushes my hand away.
“I have papers to correct, Sebastian,” she says sternly. “About this party,” she says to Daniel. “When is it?”
“In a week. Saturday night. It’s at the MOMA,” he adds persuasively.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course it is.” She gives the essay she’s reading an A, then looks up. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Daniel? I’d love to go, but I don’t want to put your deal at risk. Is it worth it for something that has an expiration date?”
I sit up at that. “What do you mean, has an expiration date?”
She doesn’t meet our eyes. “Look, you guys have a bet to win and I want to beat Trevor. What we are doing is nice, and I’m really enjoying myself. But is it real?”
Daniel has gone still on the other side of me. “What do you mean, is it real? What are you talking about? You think we are here right now because of the stupid bet?”
“Look at me,” I order Bailey, and she reluctantly listens. “Here’s the only question that matters. What do you want? Do you want us to have an expiration date?”
I can’t breathe as I wait for her answer, but she doesn’t leave us hanging for long. “No,” she whispers. “I really don’t want this to end.”
Though her words are exactly what I want to hear, I can tell from her expression that there’s something she’s not telling us. I exchange a glance with Daniel. I wonder if he knows what’s going on.
30
I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.
Helen Keller
Bailey:
“So,” Wendy looks expectantly at me. “Tell us everything.”
I’ve missed the last three Monday night drinking sessions. The first week, I’d missed it because I’d left, filled with a sense of righteous indignation, to tell Daniel Hartman exactly what I thought about his stupid endowment. The last two weeks, work has been a bitch and I’ve had to work late every evening to keep my head above water. The midterm assignment of the undergraduate Introduction to Cultural Anthropology class is to write a twenty-page paper. I’ve been reading about the cultural impact of Miley Cyrus, twerking, and Lady Gaga’s meat dress all weekend. I’m very up-to-date on pop culture right now.
In my absence, the girls couldn’t get their curiosity sated. It’s Monday night again, and I’m around, which means it’s time for the drinking and the inquisition. Four sets of eyes are staring at me, waiting for me to describe the last few weeks of my life. Normally, there’d be a virtual set of eyes as well, but Miki texted earlier, saying she couldn’t Skype in.
“Okay, what do you know so far?” I ask. I’m not entirely displeased about being ambushed for details. Daniel’s request for me to attend his company party has confused me, and our discussion about whether our relationship’s expiration date has set my head spinning. I need the collective wisdom of the women in this room.
“No, no, no.” Piper’s in her customary place at the rocking chair, Jasper curled up on her lap. “That’s a delaying tactic. Out with it. Tell us everything.”
“Where should I start?” I sigh. “I’m having a threesome with two ridiculously hot guys.”
“Yes,” Wendy’s voice is impatient. “We know. Daniel Hartman and Sebastian Ardalan.”
“Right. And you guys know about the bet?”
“What bet?”
“I thought I told you,” I frown at Gabby. “Daniel bet Clark fifty grand that I’d win my tournament game at the end of this season. Also, no offense, Gabby, but your friend Clark’s a dick.”
She grimaces. “Trust me, Bails, Clark Ellis isn’t my friend. He’s just a co-worker.”
“They bet on you?” Wendy looks intrigued. “Are you mad at them?”
“No way,” I laugh. “Are you kidding me? I want to beat Trevor, remember? They are giving me a ton of coaching.”
“No doubt,” Katie interjects slyly.
“I meant with my pool game,” I blush, and the girls all laugh at me. I flip them off and drink some of the delicious mojitos that Gabby, our resident mixed-drink genius, has made.
“You’ve been seeing them for a few weeks now,” Katie continues. “Where does this go?” Katie’s the most practical one of us. Trust her to ask the question.
“Glad you asked,” I sigh. “I don’t know.” I tell them about being invited to Daniel’s company gala. “What does it mean?”
“Why don’t you ask them?” Wendy suggests.
“I did. I asked if there was an expiration date to the threesome, and they said no.”
Piper wolf-whistles from her corner. Jasper starts at the noise, looking indignant and preparing to jump off and seek a quieter corner for his nap. Then he stretches slowly, and settles back down on Piper’s lap. Piper shakes her head at his antics. “Cat,” she mutters in mock irritation. “So let me get this straight. You are in a threesome and it’s a proper relationship? What’s that like?”
“Surprisingly normal.” I blush. “Well, aside from the sex, of course.”
Wendy chuckles. “Tell us about the sex, Bails,” she sing-songs. “Leave no dirty detail out.”
“I’m not going to kiss and tell.” I grin at Wendy’s sigh of disappointment. “But Daniel and Sebastian are so hot that they’ve replaced most of the regulars in my mental slide-show of masturbation material. Sorry, Clooney and Pitt.”
“I know.” Katie fans herself. “I saw Sebastian Ardalan’s new cookbook in the stores the other day. The cover stopped me dead in the tracks.”
“Why?” Wendy asks.
“Because he’s bare-chested in the photo,” Katie giggles. “He’s all muscled and ripped and hot, and the book’s called Heat.”
“Don’t forget the tattoos,” Gabby grins. She’s seen the cover too. “I couldn’t get a clear look at them in the picture. What are they, Bailey? You’d know, wouldn’t you?”
I make a rude gesture in her direction. “He hates that cover,” I tell them. “His agent made him do it.” I frown. “She’s creepy. I don’t like her. Do you know she’s already warned me away from him?”
“What?”
“Yeah. She followed me one day to the bathroom and told me to stay away from Sebastian. She told me that he had a brief period to take advantage of the Michelin star, and I was a distraction.”
“The bitch.” Gabby sounds incensed. “What did the guys say when you told them?”
“I haven’t. It’s not that big a deal, really. She just shoots me these death glares from time to time. I’m a big girl. I can handle Juliette.”
“If you insist.” Gabby doesn’t sound convinced. Then her expression turns mischievous. “And then there’s the hundred and fifty million dollar gift. Have you guys heard about that?”
“What?” Everyone shrieks again, and three sets of heads swivel to me.
“Thanks, Gabby,” I say dryly. “That was really helpful. It wasn’t a gift, you guys. It was an endowment to the NYU.” I fill them in on the details, and once again, they hang on my every word. We all have dating adventures to discuss from time to time,
but a threesome is still outside the norm.
“You’re frowning,” Wendy points out. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “They are so out of my league, you know. And the threesome thing, is that really practical? Besides, in a few months, I’m going to Argentina. I just feel like I’m setting myself up for a world of hurt. ”
Katie snorts. “Bailey, you went to Siberia for a year. I wouldn’t exactly describe you as practical. Does it really bother you that this isn’t very conventional?”
I think about it. “I don’t think so,” I tell them. “I guess I’m just kind of pinching myself. They are really gorgeous, they are really nice, and they want me. It feels unreal, you know? I keep waiting for reality to kick in.” I down the rest of my mojito and Gabby helpfully refills it. An empty glass rarely stays that way on drinking night.
“You know,” Gabby says. “As much as I distrust all guys on principle, I have to acknowledge that good guys exist. I mean, Adam’s amazing.”
“Yes he is,” Katie agrees smugly. “I have impeccable taste.”
Gabby shakes her head, a smile on her lips. “And from the sounds of it, Daniel and Sebastian seem pretty good too. Don’t be so eager to find a problem, Bailey. Listen to your instincts. Do you think you can trust them?”
Last week, Sebastian had bought me a piece of jewelry, a silver and amethyst bracelet he said he found in a Tibetan shop in SoHo. “You don’t have a lot of amethyst,” he’d said as he handed it to me. “I thought I’d rectify that.”
I think about that bracelet right now. It hadn’t been an expensive gift, but it had been a deeply personal one. As had the vodka. Sebastian and Daniel are both ridiculously wealthy, but the gifts they give me show they pay attention to my needs. My desires.
“I can absolutely trust them,” I say firmly. “By the way, Madam Pot Calling the Kettle Black, have you ever tried to find the guys in your own ménage situation? Carter and Dominic?”
She flushes, and I know I have her. Gabby won’t admit it, but she can’t forget her one-night stand. “No,” she replies. “I haven’t, and I’m not going to. It was just a one-time thing. Not all guys are good and trustworthy, Bailey. Some of them are jerks. Just like Trevor was.”
I want to push her on this, but I notice the expression on her face, and I back off. Gabby is, unusually for her, looking close to tears. Piper notices too, and changes the topic.
“Talking about good-looking guys,” she leans forward and fixes me with an accusing look. “Tell me about Wyatt Lawless and Owen Lamb.”
I give her a puzzled look. “Who are they?”
“Two guys who’ve eaten at my restaurant every day for the last two weeks,” she replies. “Every single day. I’m not at the front of the house all the time, so it took me a few nights to realize it. Then last night, they offered to become my partners.”
Oh. These must be Sebastian’s friends, and shit, I forgot to mention our conversation to Piper. “Okay, don’t be mad,” I tell her. “I yelled at Sebastian for upsetting you, and he felt so bad that he said he was going to talk to a couple of his friends about your restaurant.”
Piper gives me a peculiar look. “Bailey, do you know who these guys are?”
“Not a clue. Should I know?”
“I guess not, you don’t work in the industry. Lawless and Lamb are legendary. They have something of a Midas touch. Their restaurants are very popular.”
“That’s good then, right?” I ask nervously. I can’t make out if she’s mad at me or not. “You aren’t irritated with me for telling Sebastian?”
She shakes her head. “No, of course not. You did what you thought was a good thing.”
“So what’s the problem?” Katie asks. “They are good at what they do and you need help. Do they want too much money? Or equity?”
“It isn’t that.” Piper doesn’t meet our eyes. “They just rubbed me the wrong way, that’s all.”
Wendy’s been fiddling around on her phone during this conversation. She whistles as she looks at her screen. “Is this them?” she asks, handing her phone to Piper. “Seriously, what am I doing wrong with my life? The only guys I meet are smarmy lawyers. Bailey finds two studs, Gabby decides to hook up and voila - she finds a couple of hotties, and now you as well?” She shakes her head and gulps down her drink. “Life is so unfair.”
“Pictures can’t reveal personality,” Piper retorts. “These two are smug, self-satisfied and annoying as all fuck. You can have them.”
We exchange glances. Piper sounds entirely too heated, and it appears that Sebastian’s friends have got under her skin. “You don’t have to work with them if you don’t want to,” I assure her. “Do you want me to ask Sebastian if he knows anyone else who can help?”
“No,” she replies. “I’ll suck it up. These guys are really good.”
“And really hot,” Wendy adds, her eyes still on her phone. She sighs. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I kissed someone, let alone anything else.”
I survey my friends. Apart from Katie, who is happily married with twin girls, we are all single. Dating in New York City is tough. Women outnumber men by a significant margin, and it’s really hard to meet someone even a little nice. I’m not surprised at Wendy’s statement.
“So, how’s the pool game going?” Katie asks. “Are you getting good enough that you are going to beat Trevor?”
“I don’t know if I’m going to be ready for that,” I admit. “But I am getting better. In the last two weeks, I’ve won both my matches.” I grin. “Clark hates it. I can tell he’s getting nervous about the money.”
“Shouldn’t have made the bet then.” Gabby doesn’t sound sympathetic. “Asshole.”
“You have to beat Trevor, Bailey,” Wendy leans forward, swaying slightly. “I’m having a shitty week with clients. Rich men cheat around on their wives, then try to contest the pre-nup. They hide their assets, pretend they are broke and do everything in the world to avoid meeting their obligations.” She sounds earnest and more than a little drunk. “Do it on behalf of women everywhere, Bails. Kick Trevor’s ass in that final game. Make him pay.”
31
You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.
William Faulkner
Sebastian:
Of course my respite doesn’t last. Tuesday morning, Juliette emails me with a more detailed proposal from the investors that want to open up a restaurant chain with my name on the door, and it is a disaster.
“This can’t be right,” I mutter aloud.
Katya, who is tallying up the proceedings of last night’s register, looks up. “Sorry, Chef, did you say something?”
I shake my head. “These numbers can’t be right.” The projected profitability on these restaurants seems too high, and the amount of money they’ve set aside for food and labor doesn’t match what I know from experience. Yes, we do spend more on locally sourced and organically grown food at my restaurants. But I’ve worked in other kitchens as well, and there’s not a single restaurant in the country that can cut their food expenses down to ten percent. Food’s typically a third. If you spend a hundred dollars on a meal, then the ingredients should cost about thirty bucks.
Not, as these guys have projected, ten dollars.
Even fast food restaurants spend more on food. I frown and scroll down. Labor costs at my restaurants are thirty-seven percent, which is on the high side for the industry, but I believe in paying my people well - I was dirt poor for far too many years to be otherwise. This proposal has labor costs at twenty five percent, which is closer to a fast food operation than a sit-down restaurant.
They’ve allocated fifteen percent for marketing, and ten percent for executive wages.
This stinks. This stinks like the porta-potties after the chili cook-off at the Hattiesburg County Fair.
I call Juliette and don’t bother with pleasantries. “Did you look at this thing before you sent it to me?”
�
�No, I’m looking at it right now.” Her voice is distracted as she absorbs the pertinent facts. “Oh, this seems off.”
No shit, Sherlock. “That’s an understatement,” I say sarcastically. “Juliette, these numbers are a joke. Either these guys have no clue what they are doing or…” I stop talking as a more sinister notion occurs to me. “Fuck. These guys don’t give a shit, do they?”
I’m kicking myself as they speak. I should have realized this at once. Low food costs, low labor costs? They are going to use my name to get customers through the door, and they are going to give them the most indifferent dining experience that they can get away with. That explains the high marketing costs - they won’t get many repeat customers, and will constantly have to find new ones. Of course, the executives will get handsomely rewarded for their cost-cutting.
This isn’t the way to build a sustainable restaurant. This is frozen meat, sourced in countries with dubious food safety standards. This is hiring college kids and working them to the bone for minimum wage.
This is the antithesis of everything I’ve stood for in my entire life.
“I don’t want this deal.”
“Sebastian, don’t be hasty.” Juliette’s voice is edged with frantic worry. “Listen, I agree, these aren’t good numbers, but it’s just an initial proposal. Let’s meet these guys and express our concerns, and they can work on them.”
“Juliette, I don’t think I care enough. You know what? Daniel was right about this deal. It’s too much to take on, especially when my focus should be here.”
“Please,” she snaps. “That’s not what this is about. This is about your precious threesome with Jessica Rabbit.”
I hold back my angry retort with difficulty. I’ve just realized that Katya’s sitting right next to me, and though she’s making a valiant effort to look like she’s not listening with bated breath to this conversation, she is. “This isn’t about Bailey,” I grit out. “This is about you finding the wrong partners for this deal, Juliette. I’m not interested in working with someone whose values are so diametrically opposed to mine.”
Betting on Bailey (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing For Love Book 1) Page 17
