"Oh, yeah. Don't fuck the new girls." He took another drink from the bottle.
"Where'd that come from?" I angled my head to the side.
Hunter swiped a finger across his phone and slid the it over. A photo of two swimsuit-clad women seated at a beachside café filled the screen. The women, one petite and the other taller, wore sunglasses, but I could still see they were both stunning. I forced myself to look at their faces and not their bodies. They were both shades of brown—one golden and the other honey-tinged.
My eyes lingered a bit too long on the taller woman. Even wearing the sunglasses, I could see she was attractive—almond-colored skin, full lips, straight white teeth. The curl of her smile was hypnotic, but I couldn't be sure if she was gorgeous without seeing her eyes. For some inexplicable reason, I needed to see those eyes.
"These are the engagement leads. The taller woman is an ethical hacker, and the shorter is a CPA. They're cute and smart—Duke and Penn."
I shuddered at the mention of Duke University. As a Michigan-alum, I didn't like Duke. I'd hoped the tall one wasn't a Blue Devil.
"Cute? Perhaps I should warn you to stay away from them." I’d needed to settle myself. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling in what I imagined was a nonchalant attitude. "Once the dust settles, we could be wealthy men. My eyes are on the goal—seed money for Hamilton and Reeves."
"I think you meant Reeves and Hamilton." We both laughed at our longstanding joke.
"Don't go out and buy a Lamborghini. We have at least a year before we can cash in our shares. The board did the right thing in bringing in ER Wallace. We've shown our commitment to the IPO process and confidence in our products and services."
Eight months ago, the SEC approved Dynex's application to sell shares of our stock on one of the exchanges. Going public would funnel much-needed capital into our coffers. Wall Street had projected a minimum of a hundred and twenty-five dollars per share. Hunter and I were swimming in stock options. If the analysts were correct, my stocks would be worth a minimum of two and a half million dollars and freedom to work on projects that interested me.
"The Lamborghini is more your speed. I like the classics—a Chevelle or an early sixties Stingray. But I agree; work today, celebrate tomorrow."
I glanced at my watch and stood from my desk. "Let's meet our new friends."
Jasmine
"Earth to Jasmine."
Lilah's hands waved frantically in my face. My internal thoughts had drowned out her chattering about Lord-knows-what. I'd missed the last two minutes of my best friend's weekend update.
"Yes, I'm listening," I answered, losing patience.
"Tell me what I said." She placed her hands on her hips and pouted.
For a moment, my mouth bobbed open and closed as I searched for the words to form an articulate thought. "You were describing the recent shoe collection at Neiman-Marcus."
"No. That was three minutes ago." The frown on her face was a dead giveaway that she was fast becoming annoyed with me. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to peer over at my cell phone. "Who are you texting?"
"I'm not texting anyone. I'm listening to you." I moved the phone closer to my body, out of Lilah's line of sight. That was a half-truth. I was in the middle of a romantic crisis caused by a text message that I hadn't received.
Three nights ago, I'd had a second date with a man I'd met on a dating app. The date had been perfect. He'd prepared shrimp scampi with linguine at his place. Then, we made our way to the living room where we laughed and chatted until the morning's wee hours. Our evening had ended with a long kiss that made my heart palpitate. He'd promised to call.
He didn't.
Our potential romance turned into horror with each second that passed. The tall, dark, and beautiful man transformed into a phantom—an apparition that would torment me before joining the others in the murky recesses of my mind.
"I'm sorry. I'm adding last-minute additions to my opening remarks." I looked into her eyes and knew that she would not let this go. I revealed what I didn’t want to reveal to myself. "I met someone."
"And?" She took a seat in a neighboring chair, brown eyes staring at me expectantly.
He wasn't into me.
"I think he ghosted me. He said he'd call. I don't understand what happened. I thought the date went well."
"That's messed up."
"I'd hoped that it could have been the start of something wonderful. It's hard finding men who want what I want. Our travel schedules don't leave a lot of time to play childish games. I want a man that loves me as much as I love him."
"And when we are on the client's site, it's tough finding time to nurture a long-distance relationship. That's why your promotion is important to us."
"Us? Lilah, I wouldn't have any influence on assignments. I doubt if there would be any significant bump in pay." I laughed. The sole heir to the Santamaria Broadcasting Group didn't need a job. With her family's wealth, I never understood why work was so important to her.
"Yes. Us," Lilah emphasized the word with humor before she sobered. "You didn't reach out to him, did you?"
I shook my head.
"Good. Don't send that jerk a text message. And don't call. Now hand me your phone." She extended her hand, palm upward.
"Why?" I eyed her suspiciously, pulling the cell phone closer to my chest.
"Come on. Be a big girl. It's time to block him. In less than an hour, you’ll stand at that podium and outline your vision for preparing our client for an initial public offering." She stood back and stared into my eyes. "The future partner in a global consulting firm shouldn't waste time obsessing over a man. She needs to put on her game face and prepare to kick ass on this presentation and project. Do you hear me? Besides, blocking isn't decapitation. We'll send him to a land where he doesn't exist, so you can concentrate on work. Once this hectic week is over, we'll check if he called or texted, then we can take it from there."
My eyebrows raised at her use of the word "we." She instantly knew my objections.
“Yes, we. I'm with you every step of the way. Now hand me your phone."
I reluctantly plopped the phone in her outstretched palm and said his name. Her fingers slid across the screen before she returned the phone. She dusted her hands off.
"No muss. No fuss."
I took her by the hand and shook a silent thank you. I straightened my back and checked my reflection on my phone. "Okay, Lilah. Make me laugh. Tell me what you picked up at Saks."
"Not Saks, Neiman's. You didn't hear a word I said, did you? I wanted to share details on a guy I met." She huffed with an air of mock insult. After a moment, her expression changed to thoughtful. "We're smart, career-focused, and cultured women. Why are men always on our minds?"
I nodded in agreement. "I bet you right now there are men out there catching up on their weekends or making deals. Men don't spend their time obsessively talking about women. Men enjoy discussions regarding men's things."