and unsettling as Elly’s kind touch. I blame it on the years I went without my parents’ affection. Or maybe I’m just coldhearted.
“Fuck him. It’s his loss,” Elly says.
I tilt my ass to the side, pull out my red lipstick from my back pocket and apply it. I watch as the bright color fills my mouth, enhancing the paleness of my skin and the blackness of my hair. “Whatever. He’s officially part of the past. I’ve already moved on.”
“But—”
“Listen, I guess if my life were a movie, this is where I’d stay home and cry my eyes out for weeks on end because I just had my heart broken by the man of my dreams. But that’s not me, and that’s not what happened, Elly.” I turn to look at her, both of our gazes unwavering. “I dated him, yes, but it wasn’t love. So I’m not going to sit around in my apartment sulking while I wait for him to change his mind and call me back. And I’m not going to wait for an apology because that ain’t going to happen either.”
“I get that, Blaire, but I don’t think you’re as indifferent as you—”
“It’s fine, really. Anyway, does the name Lawrence Rothschild sound familiar to you?”
“I hate when you change the subject like that,” she says, glaring at me.
I extend a hand, offering her my lipstick. “Does it?”
She shakes her head no, muttering, “Figures … another asshole. Just what you need.”
I ignore her. Sometimes that’s easier than facing the music or reality. And reality can be such a cruel bitch.
“We met last night at the exhibit. He gave me his card, which I’m glad I kept, by the way, since Walker ended up dumping me. I did some cyber stalking, and turns out he’s a gold digger’s dream come true. I gave him a call before I came to work.” I omit the part about deals and possible money. I always have relationships with the men I suck dry because I don’t do one-night stands. I’m not in it for the sex; I’m in it for the long-term benefits.
I get the feeling that whatever Lawrence offers will be completely different, and Elly won’t like it one bit.
“Blaire, ” she says carefully as if she’s gauging her words and my reaction to them, “I don’t want to be that nagging friend, but you just ended things with Walker.”
“No, you’re wrong. He ended things with me,” I sneer.
“Whatever, and don’t you take that tone with me, missy. Your bullshit won’t fly with me. All I’m saying is that maybe you’re hurting a little bit and that being with another guy is not going to make the pain go away. Don’t let another guy use you or treat you like shit.”
“Newsflash, honey, I use them too. Besides, I’ve had fun with most of the guys I’ve dated. I’ve been to Paris and Milan just for shopping sprees. I’ve fucked a guy senseless in the presidential cabin of the Oriental Express while touring Asia. I’m living in an apartment in Murray Hill for free, as long as I keep getting on my knees and opening my mouth. You call it being used, but I call it being smart and resourceful. All of my relationships are mutually beneficial. Trust me on that.”
“But—”
I don’t want to look at my reflection in the mirror anymore, so I get off the chair, feeling the slight thump of my heels when they connect with the floor. As I move to stand next to Elly, we stare at each other, resignation reflects in her eyes, or maybe it’s sadness. The urge to cry comes over me, but as quickly as it comes, I’m able to control the slight trembling of my lips. I’m able to swallow over the knot in my throat and pretend that, for one short second, I wasn’t tempted to get lost in the comfort of her warm embrace while I confessed that Walker had indeed hurt me; that I need my best friend now more than ever. However, the opportunity comes and goes, and like a departing train for which I’m too late, I watch the chance disappear over the horizon. I shake my head and lean down, kissing her cheek. “Can we drop it? I
“Fuck him. It’s his loss,” Elly says.
I tilt my ass to the side, pull out my red lipstick from my back pocket and apply it. I watch as the bright color fills my mouth, enhancing the paleness of my skin and the blackness of my hair. “Whatever. He’s officially part of the past. I’ve already moved on.”
“But—”
“Listen, I guess if my life were a movie, this is where I’d stay home and cry my eyes out for weeks on end because I just had my heart broken by the man of my dreams. But that’s not me, and that’s not what happened, Elly.” I turn to look at her, both of our gazes unwavering. “I dated him, yes, but it wasn’t love. So I’m not going to sit around in my apartment sulking while I wait for him to change his mind and call me back. And I’m not going to wait for an apology because that ain’t going to happen either.”
“I get that, Blaire, but I don’t think you’re as indifferent as you—”
“It’s fine, really. Anyway, does the name Lawrence Rothschild sound familiar to you?”
“I hate when you change the subject like that,” she says, glaring at me.
I extend a hand, offering her my lipstick. “Does it?”
She shakes her head no, muttering, “Figures … another asshole. Just what you need.”
I ignore her. Sometimes that’s easier than facing the music or reality. And reality can be such a cruel bitch.
“We met last night at the exhibit. He gave me his card, which I’m glad I kept, by the way, since Walker ended up dumping me. I did some cyber stalking, and turns out he’s a gold digger’s dream come true. I gave him a call before I came to work.” I omit the part about deals and possible money. I always have relationships with the men I suck dry because I don’t do one-night stands. I’m not in it for the sex; I’m in it for the long-term benefits.
I get the feeling that whatever Lawrence offers will be completely different, and Elly won’t like it one bit.
“Blaire, ” she says carefully as if she’s gauging her words and my reaction to them, “I don’t want to be that nagging friend, but you just ended things with Walker.”
“No, you’re wrong. He ended things with me,” I sneer.
“Whatever, and don’t you take that tone with me, missy. Your bullshit won’t fly with me. All I’m saying is that maybe you’re hurting a little bit and that being with another guy is not going to make the pain go away. Don’t let another guy use you or treat you like shit.”
“Newsflash, honey, I use them too. Besides, I’ve had fun with most of the guys I’ve dated. I’ve been to Paris and Milan just for shopping sprees. I’ve fucked a guy senseless in the presidential cabin of the Oriental Express while touring Asia. I’m living in an apartment in Murray Hill for free, as long as I keep getting on my knees and opening my mouth. You call it being used, but I call it being smart and resourceful. All of my relationships are mutually beneficial. Trust me on that.”
“But—”
I don’t want to look at my reflection in the mirror anymore, so I get off the chair, feeling the slight thump of my heels when they connect with the floor. As I move to stand next to Elly, we stare at each other, resignation reflects in her eyes, or maybe it’s sadness. The urge to cry comes over me, but as quickly as it comes, I’m able to control the slight trembling of my lips. I’m able to swallow over the knot in my throat and pretend that, for one short second, I wasn’t tempted to get lost in the comfort of her warm embrace while I confessed that Walker had indeed hurt me; that I need my best friend now more than ever. However, the opportunity comes and goes, and like a departing train for which I’m too late, I watch the chance disappear over the horizon. I shake my head and lean down, kissing her cheek. “Can we drop it? I
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