she’d been raised with a 24-karat spoon in her mouth. Unlike moi, hers had been replaced with a plastic spork because her financial guru father had made some poor investments.
“Have I told you how wonderful you are?” She took the mocha latte I handed her with both hands, closed her eyes, and took a deep whiff. “You’re the kindest”—she sipped—“prettiest”—another sip—“most thoughtful boss”—sip, sip—“a girl could have.” Another sip and she eyeballed my sequined Chilli Couture tank. “Nice.”
“You, too.”
For someone now paying her own way on a modest yet respectable salary (minus the health and dental, but I’m still looking) she always managed to pull off office fab.
Today, she wore a Forth & Towne silk polka-dot dress, an Anne Klein bangle watch, suede lace-up sandals, and a haggard expression.
“Tough day?”
“Tough fifteen minutes.” She motioned to the storage closet, aka interview room A. “DED’s newest client and definitely the most challenging.”
I followed her gaze. “Did he pay cash?”
“Is that all you think about?” When I smiled, she shook her head. “Of course, that’s all you think about.” She handed me several bills and checks paper-clipped together. “He paid cash, along with two other new clients. The other three wrote checks.”
“Five newbies?”
“Actually, we’ll have six. You have an appointment this evening with a”—she hit a key on her computer and brought up today’s schedule—“Mia van Horowitz. Local business owner who doesn’t have much time to date. Said she wants the super-deluxe package, so I scheduled her with you.” She turned and retrieved a stack of messages. “Also, your mother called about this weekend, Nina One called about this weekend, someone named Mr. Lowe called about a private matter, your mother called again, and someone named Carmen called to confirm an afternoon appoinment.” She paused and shifted her gaze to the screen. “I couldn’t find her on your schedule.”
“Actually, she’s not an official client. I’m hooking her up with a friend totally out of the goodness of my own heart.” I so wasn’t going to involve Evie in the fight for my life, even if I did have the sudden urge to spill my guts to someone and share my angst. There was no reason to start some drama when everything was going to work out.
Carmen was perfect. Vinnie and his mother would love her. She would love him (hopefully). Perfect.
She arched an eyebrow. “Since when do you hook up anybody for free?”
“I gave you a free profile,” I pointed out.
“Because we only had one other person in our database at the time—you—and you needed every entry you could get.” She eyeballed me. “What’s really going on?”
“Nothing.” I was not going to cave. No matter how much she stared at me. “He’s a friend of a friend of a friend and he’s lonely. You know I’m a sucker for lonely.”
“You’re also a sucker for cold, hard cash.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have any. Maybe he works at a low-paying job helping poor people at a shelter or something and he can’t afford our services. Maybe I’m being benevolent, despite my affection for cash.”
“Does he?”
“Does he what?”
“Work at a low-paying job? Because last time I looked, wiseguys raked in a pretty hefty amount of money.”
“He’s fallen on hard times—wait a second. Did you just say wiseguy ?”
She nodded. “Wiseguy, as in a mafia-loving, spaghetti-eating bulldog who pops people for a living.” It was my turn to arch an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “My dad used to have a couple of them who worked special assignments for him. Daddy would get pissed if someone fudged on an investment, and Guido and Lou would pay the fudger a little visit. They either came back with the money, or a few bloody fingers. So why is this guy after you? What did you do?”
“Nothing. He saw me on Manhattan’s Most Wanted, he needs a date for his mother’s
“Have I told you how wonderful you are?” She took the mocha latte I handed her with both hands, closed her eyes, and took a deep whiff. “You’re the kindest”—she sipped—“prettiest”—another sip—“most thoughtful boss”—sip, sip—“a girl could have.” Another sip and she eyeballed my sequined Chilli Couture tank. “Nice.”
“You, too.”
For someone now paying her own way on a modest yet respectable salary (minus the health and dental, but I’m still looking) she always managed to pull off office fab.
Today, she wore a Forth & Towne silk polka-dot dress, an Anne Klein bangle watch, suede lace-up sandals, and a haggard expression.
“Tough day?”
“Tough fifteen minutes.” She motioned to the storage closet, aka interview room A. “DED’s newest client and definitely the most challenging.”
I followed her gaze. “Did he pay cash?”
“Is that all you think about?” When I smiled, she shook her head. “Of course, that’s all you think about.” She handed me several bills and checks paper-clipped together. “He paid cash, along with two other new clients. The other three wrote checks.”
“Five newbies?”
“Actually, we’ll have six. You have an appointment this evening with a”—she hit a key on her computer and brought up today’s schedule—“Mia van Horowitz. Local business owner who doesn’t have much time to date. Said she wants the super-deluxe package, so I scheduled her with you.” She turned and retrieved a stack of messages. “Also, your mother called about this weekend, Nina One called about this weekend, someone named Mr. Lowe called about a private matter, your mother called again, and someone named Carmen called to confirm an afternoon appoinment.” She paused and shifted her gaze to the screen. “I couldn’t find her on your schedule.”
“Actually, she’s not an official client. I’m hooking her up with a friend totally out of the goodness of my own heart.” I so wasn’t going to involve Evie in the fight for my life, even if I did have the sudden urge to spill my guts to someone and share my angst. There was no reason to start some drama when everything was going to work out.
Carmen was perfect. Vinnie and his mother would love her. She would love him (hopefully). Perfect.
She arched an eyebrow. “Since when do you hook up anybody for free?”
“I gave you a free profile,” I pointed out.
“Because we only had one other person in our database at the time—you—and you needed every entry you could get.” She eyeballed me. “What’s really going on?”
“Nothing.” I was not going to cave. No matter how much she stared at me. “He’s a friend of a friend of a friend and he’s lonely. You know I’m a sucker for lonely.”
“You’re also a sucker for cold, hard cash.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have any. Maybe he works at a low-paying job helping poor people at a shelter or something and he can’t afford our services. Maybe I’m being benevolent, despite my affection for cash.”
“Does he?”
“Does he what?”
“Work at a low-paying job? Because last time I looked, wiseguys raked in a pretty hefty amount of money.”
“He’s fallen on hard times—wait a second. Did you just say wiseguy ?”
She nodded. “Wiseguy, as in a mafia-loving, spaghetti-eating bulldog who pops people for a living.” It was my turn to arch an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “My dad used to have a couple of them who worked special assignments for him. Daddy would get pissed if someone fudged on an investment, and Guido and Lou would pay the fudger a little visit. They either came back with the money, or a few bloody fingers. So why is this guy after you? What did you do?”
“Nothing. He saw me on Manhattan’s Most Wanted, he needs a date for his mother’s
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