But since you asked, there IS a reason I’m twenty-seven and single. It’s called having standards.
Also, you have some nerve referring to my mother as a narcissist. You don’t even know my mother. The definition of a narcissist is a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves. You seem to think quite highly of yourself and your opinions. YOU are the narcissist here.
A few pieces of advice from me to you:
Please don’t “ask around” about what I look like.
Don’t read my messages anymore if they happen to come to you.
And do NOT offer me your opinion when I don’t ask for it.
P.S. I wouldn’t let my sister Olivia, or Sister Mary Alice, for that matter, near you if you were the last man on Earth.
Riley Kennedy
I pressed send and leaned back in my chair, taking a deep breath to compose myself before opening up a new email window. I was on a roll. One down, one to go.
Dear Soraya,
First off…who are you? I wrote to Ida, not some assistant. Therefore, I’m not entirely sure why your opinion should matter to me. In any case, calling someone dull is rude. Yes, I referred to myself as “Boring” in my letter, but that was meant to be self-deprecating. Coming from you, “dull” is an insult. Telling someone to get a life IS AN INSULT. You’re supposed to be doling out advice. All you did was insult me without providing any solution to the problem that I detailed. Not to mention, you’re incompetent. You reversed the names in my email address and sent your response instead to my co-worker, Kennedy Riley, who happens to be very annoying. I am Riley Kennedy. Not Kennedy Riley. This was a breach of confidentiality. And I’m sure Ida would be none too pleased to learn about it.
As a result of your error, my co-worker—like you—seems to think he has the right to dish out advice with zero expertise to back it up. If I wanted advice from people who were not suitable to give it, I would ask a random person on the street—or maybe my morkapoo.
Thanks for nothing.
Riley Kennedy
I pressed send and shut my laptop. Boy, that felt good.
Later that afternoon, I ran into my co-worker and friend, Liliana Lipman, in the lunchroom and filled her in on what had happened. She could hardly believe the balls on that Kennedy guy, either.
She steeped her tea and said, “Well, the holiday party is going to be very interesting this year.”
I frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?” I picked up my sandwich and bit into it.
She leaned in and whispered, “They’re doing a combined Christmas party this year for the two Manhattan offices..”
Due to space issues, our company housed the fiction and non-fiction departments across town from each other.
I stopped chewing when it hit me. “Um…that’s not good.”
“Looks like you’ll finally get to meet Kennedy Riley face to face.”
My stomach sank. “Shit. I don’t want that at all.”
“I don’t think you’re going to have a choice if he decides to go.”
“Maybe I’ll skip the party. Problem solved.”
“You really think Ames is going to let you get away with that? It’s pretty much mandatory, Riley.”
My boss, Edward Ames, was always intent on his employees participating in all company events. If you didn’t show, he’d actually call you from the party, put you on speakerphone, and shame you into coming. Rookies always tried to skip out on events like this. The experienced employees knew better.
Liliana sighed. “Maybe you can find a way to avoid him. Does he know what you look like?”
“He’s apparently been asking around, fishing for information about me. I’m sure someone will point me out to him.”
“Have you ever seen a photo of him?”
“No. I’ve never looked him up. I couldn’t care less.”
“You sure about that?” Liliana smirked. “I’m surprised at that, given all of your heated interactions.” She chuckled. “C’mon, aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“Not really. I’ve pretty much always just assumed he was as ugly as his personality, which would mean he looks like a goat’s ass.”
She took out her phone. “Well, let’s find out.”
“What are you doing?”
“Searching for him on Facebook.” She scrolled down and muttered his name, “Kennedy Riley…Kennedy Riley. There are a few of them, actually.” She jumped in her seat. “Ah-ha! Here we go. Lives in Soho. Works at Star Publishing. Oh, and he’s single. This is him!” Her eyes widened as she focused on his profile photo. “Oh. Oh my.”
I had to admit. Now she had me curious.
“What?” I asked, noticing that she was smiling from ear to ear now.
Her jaw dropped as she slowly looked up at me but said nothing.
Then she started laughing.
I was getting impatient. “Show it to me,” I said with my hand held out.
“You might want to start being a little nicer to him,” she said before turning the phone screen toward me.
I took in the image in front of me.
Nearly translucent light blue eyes. Chiseled face with bronze skin. Broad shoulders. Confident smile that hinted at the smug arrogance I’d come to expect from him.
I zoomed in.
Kennedy Effing Riley.
Kennedy Effing Riley…was hot as hell.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Riley
When I was a kid, I loved Christmas. I loved everything about it…decorating the tree, Christmas caroling through our neighborhood, going to see Santa Claus at the mall. But over the last few years, this time of year had become my least favorite. Even the music got on my nerves.
Apparently, the same wasn’t true for Liliana. I’d gone to her place before the party tonight, since she was keeping my morkapoo while I went home for the Holidays. Liliana had a half dozen wrapped presents and a collar with bells waiting for Sister Mary Alice when I walked in. She was all about Christmas, and it made me feel a bit like the Grinch tonight.
As we entered the lobby of the hotel where our party was being held, she handed her coat to the coat check attendant and started to bop around and sing along to Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas is You, which was blaring overhead.
“So what should we do first?” she said. “Get a drink or scope out Mr. Hottie?”
I took my claim ticket from the coat check lady and shook my head. “I think we’re definitely going to need a drink if I’m going to have to face Mr. Hottie…I mean Mr. Noseybody.”
“Are we sure he’s here tonight?”
“I have no idea. I never heard back from him.” Or from that rude assistant to Dear Ida either, for that matter.
Liliana and I walked to the Grand Ballroom where Star Publishing’s expanded holiday party was in full swing. The double doors were wide open, and we took a minute to look inside. There were a heck of a lot more people than usual. When it was just our division, we were usually holed up in a small ballroom. And the small dance floor was generally half empty. But this year, it was twice as big and bodies were packed onto it. There was even a guy dressed up as Santa Claus in the middle of the room handing out those light-up necklaces that flashed in red and green. The vibe was already totally different than usual.