Page 10 of February (New Orleans #2)

“I just need to go to the hotel to change,” Monica said. “I’ll meet you back at the office.”

“I can go with you,” Bridgette offered.

“I can manage,” she replied as she nodded toward the office entrance. “I’ll be twenty minutes. Are you worried they’ll think you murdered me and tossed my body into the river?”

“A little,” Bridgette said with a smile.

“If I’m not back in twenty, you can tell them to send a search party.”

“Okay.” Bridgette chuckled a little and headed into the office building.

Monica stood for a moment before she started walking toward the hotel to put her painting away and change back into her more workplace-appropriate attire. Of course, she was the only person in the office wearing anything so nice. All of the employees, including Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave, wore jeans and looked comfortable. Monica’s tennis shoes were incredibly comfortable, too, but they didn’t exactly go with her business suit, like Bridgette had pointed out earlier, so she needed to change. She stopped at the light, waiting to cross the street, and thought about the fortune teller in the Square.

It had been her first experience with one, if she could even call it that. They hadn’t paid the woman any money. They hadn’t sat down at one of her folding chairs. She’d just started talking to them, joining their conversation, and then Kyle, who, Monica had learned, was Melinda’s girlfriend, had walked up to them as well and started talking to the woman, seemingly believing every word she’d said. Suddenly, Monica was standing next to Bridgette, and this supposed psychic was telling them about the dogs they’d have. It had been strange, and she still didn’t know what to make of it, but they’d left Kyle at the tour office after walking her back and then had grabbed sandwiches to-go at Subway after Bridgette had made fun of her for not trying a local place again.

“Subway was closer,” Monica had argued. “And I can trust it.”

Bridgette had laughed, but she’d gotten herself a sandwich, too, and paid for both of their meals. Then, they’d sat on a bench, per Bridgette’s suggestion, and they’d eaten their sandwiches and the accompanying chips. Monica hadn’t ever eaten a messy sandwich while sitting on a bench before, and she’d done her best not to get it all over her shirt that she’d planned to wear for the rest of the day. Bridgette, on the other hand, had seemed much more casual, as if she’d done this before: people-watched while eating a sandwich. Monica had tried to relax a little, and when she did, she’d thought she kind of liked it. There was a calmness about not having to keep up a conversation and just sitting there eating and watching people go about their days.

When the doorman let her into the hotel with his customary greeting, Monica made it up to her room, where she’d planned to change back into her work clothes. She stared at them for a moment before placing her new painting on top of the desk. Putting her cash and cards back into her wallet and tucking her room key into the small pocket in the lining, she considered for a minute. Everyone else in the office was wearing jeans and tennis shoes. She liked business suits because they made her feel powerful in her executive meetings, but in this place, she didn’t need to feel powerful. She needed to blend in more. She needed them to feel like they could talk to her so that she could make the best recommendation for the business.

Monica decided to wear what she was wearing back to the office for the afternoon, and if it didn’t go over well, she’d be back to business suits tomorrow. Then, she thought that if it did go over well, she would not have enough clothes to wear since she’d only packed the two pairs of jeans she’d already worn and only a couple of sweaters. She could call her assistant and have her go pick some stuff up and send it, or she could go shopping here. She was still considering when her phone chimed with a notification. Monica checked the readout and was surprised to see a Facebook notification until she remembered that she’d reached out to Sophie last night. She opened the app and read the message to herself.

Sophie Santiago : You’re in town? Yeah, let’s hang out. I haven’t talked to you in forever. I’m pretty free, so just say when. You can text me, by the way. Number is the same. Let me know if you need it, though.

Monica smiled and opened her messages app, sending Sophie a quick response, letting her know she was free that night if Sophie wanted to grab a drink or dinner. Then, she tucked her phone into her bag, lifted it, and carried it out the door. By the time she arrived back at the office, Bridgette appeared to be sketching something at her desk. Monica didn’t want to intrude, but she had seen a little of Bridgette’s work online and wanted to see it in progress.

“No need for that search party,” she said as a way of making an excuse.

“Good to know. I’ll call them off. I will, however, have to send you the bill for calling them in the first place,” Bridgette teased.

“You have my email,” Monica said with a smile as she looked down. “That’s good,” she added.

“It’s just a sketch. Dan will make it better.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s the colorist. I sketch. He colors them in.”

“Sorry; he just colors? That’s his job?”

“That’s an actual job. Do you not know that? You own a greeting card company.”

“My company owns a lot of other companies.”

“So, you don’t know how it works, but you’re here to tell us what to do?”

“No, I’m here to make your parents an offer.”

“But to do that, you’d need to know how things really work.”

“He said he was a colorist when we spoke earlier. I just assumed he does more than that.”

“Do you ever read comic books? Graphic novels?” Bridgette asked.

“No. Why?”

“Why am I not surprised? They have colorists, too.”

“So do hair salons,” Monica pointed out.

“You would go to a hair salon where there’s one person shampooing your hair, one cutting it, and one coloring it.”

“First, my hair is natural. Second, they specialize. You’ll get a higher quality if–” Monica stopped herself, realizing her mistake. “Dan specializes.”

“Dan went to RISD. Do you know that school?”

“Rhode Island School of Design; yes, I do. We have VPs in the marketing department who went there.”

“Well, it’s pretty much the number one school, and Dan went there and learned stuff like color matching, among other things.”

“I see,” Monica said.

“ Do you?” Bridgette asked.

“Yes. I assume we have someone like Dan on our team at Good Day Greetings.”

“You probably have a few of them; we just have Dan. We have several card writers and artists like me who sketch things out, and Dan takes them and elevates them for us. He applies the Southern Hospitality approach to them, making sure they align with our brand so that when someone picks one of our cards up at the store, they know it’s from us without having to look at the back.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Monica said.

Bridgette finally looked up from the card then and lifted a confused eyebrow at Monica.

“I thought you were changing.”

“Oh, I decided against it.”

“But how will we know you’re the business exec from the big city here to save the day?” Bridgette joked.

“How will I ever know that you’re actually not a pain in the ass when you keep making comments like that?” she replied.

Bridgette laughed and said, “Touché.”

“I’d like to talk to you more if you’ll let me. You can still make fun of me if you want, and I’ll even order you coffee from a local place.”

“Will you still get your fancy coffee?” Bridgette asked.

“I think I can skip it just this once, but I do have a gold card there, so I get great deals. Can you blame me?”

“You probably already own at least half of New York, and you’re searching for deals?”

“How do you think I keep my half of New York? Besides, if I didn’t search for deals, I’d never be able to buy all of it.”

Bridgette laughed again, and Monica wondered if maybe, just maybe, they were making progress here.

“Just let me finish this one, okay?” Bridgette said. “Can I meet you in the conference room?”

“Give me, like, thirty.”

“I finally agree to help, and you’re putting me off,” Bridgette replied, but playfully.

“I’m going to walk down the street to that damn local coffee place that doesn’t deliver and get us something. Well, get something for the whole office. Actually, I don’t think I could carry all that.”

“Too bad you left your fancy assistant in New York.”

“Finish that and come with me. I’ll take coffee orders,” Monica said with a laugh.

“Bossy already. You don’t even own the company yet,” Bridgette teased.

Thirty minutes later, they walked down the street, with Bridgette pointing out a few of the buildings as they walked past them and telling Monica about how they’d opened the office in New Orleans. They joined the line with the order for everyone in the office in Monica’s hand, and Bridgette did the actual ordering since it appeared she knew the woman behind the counter, probably because she was a regular.

“Uh… I can’t. But maybe another time,” Bridgette said, and Monica realized she hadn’t been paying much attention to their conversation.

“You say that every time,” the woman replied.

“I know,” Bridgette said as she handed over her credit card.

“No, this is on me, remember?” Monica interjected, already with a card in hand, passing it to the woman behind the counter.

The woman took it with a look of confusion and, dare Monica say it, territorial competition in her eyes.

“Thanks.” The barista swiped it. “Bridge, we’ll have that panini you like for the lunch special tomorrow. Stop back in?” She handed the card back to Monica.

“What’s the special?” Monica asked, slipping the card back into her wallet.

“It’s a panini,” the woman said as if Monica was an idiot.

“No, I meant, what’s in the panini?”

“Nothing fancy,” Bridgette said. “You’d hate it.” She winked at Monica.

Monica gave her a playful glare, and Bridgette seemed to realize something in that moment. Her face went serious, and she looked down at her shoes.

“What?” Monica asked.

“Nothing,” Bridgette said, but it was clearly something.

“Your drinks will be over on the bar,” the woman told them.

“Thanks,” Monica replied.

She went to take Bridgette by the elbow and walk her over there since she was still staring down at the floor, but Bridgette was on the move all on her own and over at the bar before Monica had tucked her wallet back into her bag. They each took a tray when the drinks arrived, and Bridgette held the door open for her as they walked back outside.

“So, what was that all about?” Monica asked when they stopped at the light.

“Oh. She asks me out every time I’m in there. I usually go to a different place when I can because of it, but that’s the closest to the office, so in a pinch, I go there, and she usually asks me out.”

“That’s not–” Monica stopped. “Every time?”

“Yes,” Bridgette said.

“Why do you say no? Not interested?”

“She’s twenty-two,” Bridgette said. “And I just got out of a relationship with someone who was twenty-three when we dated, and it didn’t end well. Not that everyone younger than me is the same as Toya, and we didn’t just get out of a relationship – it’s been about eight months, and we weren’t even together all that long – I’m just wary of someone that young now because of it.”

“I see.”

“You see a lot,” Bridgette said, laughing.

“What?”

“You say that a lot. You say, ‘I see,’ a lot.”

“Oh. I guess I do,” Monica replied. “But I wasn’t talking about the flirty barista. I meant, what happened? I thought we were having fun there for a minute, but then you got all serious and quiet.”

Bridgette pointed to the walk signal that had just appeared, and they began walking across the street.

“Nothing. Just forgot about her when I suggested that we should go there. I wasn’t thinking.”

Monica’s phone beeped, but her hands were full because of the tray, and her phone was in her bag.

“May I?” Bridgette asked.

“It’s in the side pocket.”

Bridgette pulled out Monica’s phone and held it up to her without looking at the screen herself.

“Oh,” she said.

“Not good news?”

“No, it is. My friend Sophie lives down here now. We’re going to have dinner tonight.”

“Please do not have that dinner in your hotel restaurant. I’ll recommend, like, five places to you that you should try, and you’d be able to find something for you and for this Sophie, no matter your dietary restrictions.”

“The Four Seasons has amazing food, Bridgette.”

“You did not just say that… No matter how amazing, it’s still hotel food.”

“Do you want to come with us?” Monica asked before she could stop herself.

Bridgette turned to look at her and deposited Monica’s phone back in her bag.

“Uh… I can’t. Busy.”

“Didn’t you ask your friend out to drinks tonight, and she said maybe? Maybe isn’t a yes,” Monica pointed out, wondering why she was pushing this so hard.

“Melinda texted me when you were at the hotel,” Bridgette replied. “We’re all hanging out. But you have fun with your friend.”

“Okay. Well, when we get back, do you want to meet in the conference room so that we can talk more freely?”

“Actually, not today. Can we postpone that? I really do have to finish the sketch I was working on earlier, and this little coffee trip cut into my time to get it to Dan.”

“Yeah, sure,” Monica said, disappointed, as Bridgette pulled the door to the office building open for her.