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It’s unclear whether it’s because she wants a souvenir of that time she told me off or if she might change her mind. She doesn’t say. Regardless, when I pull the card out of the inside pocket of my suit coat, she takes it.
Walking away now, I don’t know how this is going to end, only that it hasn’t yet. It’s hard to convince someone you’re a regular person who just got on board with an excellent idea and that idea happened to make a lot of money, but that’s what happened. That’s what and who I am.
She has to be the one to make the decision if she’s going to get invested enough to find that out, though. I can’t force her into believing I’m a good man.
At this point, I’d love to be the hard one who’s going to tell this part of the story to his friends as, “You gotta show ‘em you’re willing to walk away: It’s business 101,” or something like that. If that were the kind of nonsense going through my head, I wouldn’t have this all-encompassing insecurity that I honestly haven’t felt in a very, very long time.
Of course, then I’d also be a callous jerk, and from what I hear, that comes with its own set of problems. I’m most of the way down the block before I give in to my curiosity and look back toward the restaurant.
Grace’s still in front of Carne Celeste. She’s not watching me go, though. She has a cell phone in her hand, and it appears that she’s referencing a business card, undoubtedly mine.
There’s still no way to know whether she’s considering calling me at some point or if she just wants to have something to show her friends when she’s talking about how pompous I am. As I turn back to face the street ahead, though, I can’t help feeling I’ve succeeded in a rather profound way.
There’s nothing left for me to do tonight—in town, anyway. Back at the Plimpington Hotel, though, there’s a lot that still needs to get done.
When the owner of the hotel said that we could rent out the whole place, I answered that wouldn’t be necessary. He said, “Okay,” and we moved on with the specifics.
When he offered again later in the conversation, I was curious, but still rejected the idea. He didn’t know I was considering making Mulholland Stingray’s new base of operations, and even if he did, he would have also learned there are only about two dozen people out here with me. The bulk of Stingray and all of its non-me higher ups are still back in Manhattan, and even if I do find what I’m looking for in Mulholland, a lot of those people are going to stay right where they are.
Of course, the boardwillhave to relocate, or I’ll be the one who has to travel to every morning meeting out of state. That part’s unavoidable, but I’m not looking to abandon New York.
When the owner of the hotelinsistedthat we have the place to ourselves, but that the only way to do that would be to rent out the whole place, I finally got the message.
I offered to rent out every room that was not currently occupied, but the line got silent about that time. Eventually, I relented. Until we get something more permanent, the temporary corporate headquarters of one of the biggest companies to come out of the last decade is the Plimpington Hotel.
When I finally turn the corner, I pull out my cell phone and call my driver. He picks me up as I’m walking and we head back to the hotel. I’m barely out of the car before I have staff dropping files in my hand and giving me cell phones, two at a time so I can figure out whatever doom has befallen the world since I left for Carne Celeste.
Even as I’m signing documents like they’re autographs and giving one-word answers to very complex questions that don’t get a chance to get fully asked, my mind is on that sidewalk, looking back and seeing Grace put my number into her phone.
I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself here, and I can’t say for certain that I even saw it, but I could almost swear Grace had a smile on her face.
CHAPTER3
NAOMI AND THE DOG
GRACE
“You know whatelsewould be awesome about you and Nikolai marrying each other?” Naomi asks. This game stopped being fun before it started.
“I’m not listening,” I tell her and try to focus on the dishes she’s supposed to be drying.
“We’d never have to go bargain shopping again,” Naomi says as she bends down to give Max, my yellow lab, a scratch behind the ears. “Andyoucould have the best dog food all the time.”
Max wags his tail at the mention of the word food.
“You know you have to give him something now, or else he’s just going to follow you around until you do,” I tell Naomi. “Are you going to help me with these or what?” I ask.
“I don’t get you,” she says. “You’re always talking about how you want to break out of this rut you’ve been in, and then a freaking CEO comes into your store and asks you on a date. Honestly, karmically I mean,” she says, “if you don’t jump him, you’re slapping the universe in the face.”
“With you as my roommate, I think I owe it a few,” I tell her. “I think it’ll get over it.”
I took the card. I even added the number to my phone, but after three weeks, I still haven’t called. To be honest, I don’t even know if he’s still in town. If he is, I doubt he’d still be interested.
“You say that now,” Naomi says, “but this isn’t the kind of thing that just happens to people. Everyone you ever tell the story to is going to think you’re an idiot if you don’t at least give him a call and see where it goes.”
“How often do you imagine I’m going to tell the story?” I ask. “Some guy thought I might be an easy target, but I didn’t let myself get caught. That sounds like every story a woman has ever told after going to a club. I’m not joking about Max,” I add. “You dropped the f-bomb. Treats are on top of the refrigerator, in case you forgot.”
“Just give me one good reason why you won’t call him and I’ll leave you alone,” she says.
Walking away now, I don’t know how this is going to end, only that it hasn’t yet. It’s hard to convince someone you’re a regular person who just got on board with an excellent idea and that idea happened to make a lot of money, but that’s what happened. That’s what and who I am.
She has to be the one to make the decision if she’s going to get invested enough to find that out, though. I can’t force her into believing I’m a good man.
At this point, I’d love to be the hard one who’s going to tell this part of the story to his friends as, “You gotta show ‘em you’re willing to walk away: It’s business 101,” or something like that. If that were the kind of nonsense going through my head, I wouldn’t have this all-encompassing insecurity that I honestly haven’t felt in a very, very long time.
Of course, then I’d also be a callous jerk, and from what I hear, that comes with its own set of problems. I’m most of the way down the block before I give in to my curiosity and look back toward the restaurant.
Grace’s still in front of Carne Celeste. She’s not watching me go, though. She has a cell phone in her hand, and it appears that she’s referencing a business card, undoubtedly mine.
There’s still no way to know whether she’s considering calling me at some point or if she just wants to have something to show her friends when she’s talking about how pompous I am. As I turn back to face the street ahead, though, I can’t help feeling I’ve succeeded in a rather profound way.
There’s nothing left for me to do tonight—in town, anyway. Back at the Plimpington Hotel, though, there’s a lot that still needs to get done.
When the owner of the hotel said that we could rent out the whole place, I answered that wouldn’t be necessary. He said, “Okay,” and we moved on with the specifics.
When he offered again later in the conversation, I was curious, but still rejected the idea. He didn’t know I was considering making Mulholland Stingray’s new base of operations, and even if he did, he would have also learned there are only about two dozen people out here with me. The bulk of Stingray and all of its non-me higher ups are still back in Manhattan, and even if I do find what I’m looking for in Mulholland, a lot of those people are going to stay right where they are.
Of course, the boardwillhave to relocate, or I’ll be the one who has to travel to every morning meeting out of state. That part’s unavoidable, but I’m not looking to abandon New York.
When the owner of the hotelinsistedthat we have the place to ourselves, but that the only way to do that would be to rent out the whole place, I finally got the message.
I offered to rent out every room that was not currently occupied, but the line got silent about that time. Eventually, I relented. Until we get something more permanent, the temporary corporate headquarters of one of the biggest companies to come out of the last decade is the Plimpington Hotel.
When I finally turn the corner, I pull out my cell phone and call my driver. He picks me up as I’m walking and we head back to the hotel. I’m barely out of the car before I have staff dropping files in my hand and giving me cell phones, two at a time so I can figure out whatever doom has befallen the world since I left for Carne Celeste.
Even as I’m signing documents like they’re autographs and giving one-word answers to very complex questions that don’t get a chance to get fully asked, my mind is on that sidewalk, looking back and seeing Grace put my number into her phone.
I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself here, and I can’t say for certain that I even saw it, but I could almost swear Grace had a smile on her face.
CHAPTER3
NAOMI AND THE DOG
GRACE
“You know whatelsewould be awesome about you and Nikolai marrying each other?” Naomi asks. This game stopped being fun before it started.
“I’m not listening,” I tell her and try to focus on the dishes she’s supposed to be drying.
“We’d never have to go bargain shopping again,” Naomi says as she bends down to give Max, my yellow lab, a scratch behind the ears. “Andyoucould have the best dog food all the time.”
Max wags his tail at the mention of the word food.
“You know you have to give him something now, or else he’s just going to follow you around until you do,” I tell Naomi. “Are you going to help me with these or what?” I ask.
“I don’t get you,” she says. “You’re always talking about how you want to break out of this rut you’ve been in, and then a freaking CEO comes into your store and asks you on a date. Honestly, karmically I mean,” she says, “if you don’t jump him, you’re slapping the universe in the face.”
“With you as my roommate, I think I owe it a few,” I tell her. “I think it’ll get over it.”
I took the card. I even added the number to my phone, but after three weeks, I still haven’t called. To be honest, I don’t even know if he’s still in town. If he is, I doubt he’d still be interested.
“You say that now,” Naomi says, “but this isn’t the kind of thing that just happens to people. Everyone you ever tell the story to is going to think you’re an idiot if you don’t at least give him a call and see where it goes.”
“How often do you imagine I’m going to tell the story?” I ask. “Some guy thought I might be an easy target, but I didn’t let myself get caught. That sounds like every story a woman has ever told after going to a club. I’m not joking about Max,” I add. “You dropped the f-bomb. Treats are on top of the refrigerator, in case you forgot.”
“Just give me one good reason why you won’t call him and I’ll leave you alone,” she says.
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