Chapter Two
Trina
Three Weeks Later
“Are you saying I’ll never get to meet Kyle?” My neighbor, Aurora Salik, shakes her head. “I was looking forward to checking out his ass.”
I bark out a laugh. “His ass? Why?”
“Did you not say that he had an ass that was so tight you could bounce quarters off of it?”
Still chuckling, I take a seat next to her small dining room table. “Kyle’s ass wasn’t worth talking about.”
“Oh,” she draws the word out slowly. “I bet you were talking about your boss’s ass when you said that.”
It’s likely, but I won’t admit it.
“Back to my breakup with Kyle,” I say to shift the subject away from Mr. Locke’s spectacular ass. “He wasn’t impressed that I didn’t know how to play chess.”
“Wow. You lost a keeper, didn’t you?”
I smile.
This feels good.
I’ve known Aurora for a little more than a year. She was already living in this apartment with her boyfriend, Eldon, when I moved in down the hall.
They both welcomed me with open arms.
Since then, we’ve become friends.
“I’m not crying over it,” I confess.
When Kyle told me last week that he wanted to date someone with the same interests as him, I hightailed it out of the restaurant before the server brought the check. I figured that Kyle owed me one last dinner and a drink since I sat through his retelling of every aspect of the history lesson he taught his class of eighth-graders that day.
I’m all for diving into the past, but not on a fifth date.
If Kyle hadn’t pulled the plug on our blossoming relationship that night, I would have done it myself.
“Good.” Aurora pats my hand before she takes a long drink from the mug in front of her.
She works at a café, so her coffee-making skills are next level. When she texted me fifteen minutes ago to say that she made me a cup, I knocked on her apartment door seconds later.
My gaze wanders to a framed picture on the wall behind her. It’s a shot that was taken on a beach in Maryland last year on Aurora’s twenty-first birthday. Her brown hair is blowing in the breeze. One of her hands is trying to control it while the other is on her boyfriend’s shoulder as he gazes into her eyes.
“How’s Eldon?”
“Handsome as ever.” She beams. “What is it about a man in a uniform?”
I’ve seen Eldon Breckton in his NYPD uniform more than once. It’s a good look for him.
“Eldon can set you up with someone from work,” she offers with a glint in her eye. “Maybe a double date?”
I know better than to agree to go on a blind date. I’ve tried that in the past, and it’s never worked out for me. I’d love to find the man I’m destined to spend my life with, but I’m only twenty-four, so I can pace myself.
Besides, if the blind date ends badly, that’s a mark on my friendship with Aurora and Eldon that I don’t want.
“Thanks, but I’m taking a break from dating.”
The mug in her hand stops mid-air. “Because?”
“No reason in particular.” I grin. “More me time, less he time.”
“By ‘he’ you mean every available man in Manhattan?”
“Exactly.” I punctuate the word with a nod.
“I said that the day before I met Eldon.” She takes a sip from her mug. “Look how that turned out for me.”
“What do you think, Trina?”
I look up from my desk to see Kay, one of our designers, with a massive man’s silver watch on her wrist.
She’s clinging to the band tightly while she admires her workmanship.
“I think Abdons has a new bestseller on their hands.” I pause for effect. “Or should I say their wrists?”
She laughs the same way she always does when I crack that joke.
Kay has been working at Abdons for decades. She was one of the first employees when Lloyd Abdon launched his designer watch brand in a small shop on the Lower East Side.
The company has grown into a multi-million-dollar business since that day. Mr. Abdon still pops into the office whenever the urge strikes, but he handed over the day-to-day reins to Mr. Locke last year.
“Is he around?” Kay’s gaze darts to Mr. Locke’s closed office door.
He is, but he’s in a grumpy mood.
I found that out when I chirped “good morning” to my boss, and his response was a shoot of death rays from his eyes in my direction.
That’s a slight exaggeration, but it was apparent something or someone turned what could have been a good morning for him into an angry a.m., as I call it. That’s not to be confused with the pissy p.m. he has at least a few times a week.
“Mr. Locke is busy,” I lie to save Kay from his wrath. “Why don’t I check with him later to see when he’s available?”
That’s my polite way of saying that I’ll wait until that ten-minute window each day when he’s not about to cut someone’s head off with his words.
“Works for me,” she says in a tone edged with glee. “I think he’s going to love my new design.”
I think he’ll say it’s “fine” before instructing one of the new designers he hired to come up with something cutting edge with a host of bells and whistles.
Kay is still designing watches for people who only use their timepiece to well…tell time. Mr. Locke is trying to corner the market for those who want to call their business partners, book a lunch reservation, and plan their Aruba vacation from the comfort of their wrists.
“Back to the design lab for me.” She turns abruptly and stomps off.
I watch her leave, wishing I could go with her because I know my boss, and twenty-five minutes from now, he’ll swing open his office door and order me to get him a sandwich that will in no way satisfy him.
I glance at the vintage silver Abdons watch on my wrist.
Twenty-four minutes and fifty-seven seconds from now, the mid-day fun begins.
Chapter Three
Trina
I stepped out to get Mr. Locke his lunch, and he split.
He took off like a bat under the cover of darkness.
No one noticed him leave, not even Cecil at the reception desk, and he spots everything.
I look at the white paper bag in my hand.
Today’s lunch order consisted of turkey, avocado, and arugula on whole grain bread with a zesty sauce and a sprinkle of pepper.
It smells delicious, and although I was tempted to order myself one, I pushed that notion aside because there’s a bowl of macaroni salad in the fridge in the break room with my name on it.
Literally.
I wrote my name on the lid because Cecil is under the impression that the fridge is a buffet just for him. He picks and chooses his appetizer, entrée, and dessert from there almost every day.
I drop the bag on my desk and turn in a circle, looking for some inspiration.
Do I eat the sandwich or wait to hear from Locke?
The hunger gods must hear me because my phone chimes in my purse.
I dig it out.