Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Because gyms aren’t considered public establishments. The membership fees make them private clubs. Which are allowed to choose their clientele.”
“Huh. You learn something every day. Well, maybe you should open a women’s-only private club then. That just so happens to serve alcohol, have a DJ, and a general, you know, bar-like atmosphere. I’d pay a membership fee. I’d be there every weekend. Got too much testosterone in my house. I’m choking on it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, actually meaning it. There’d been a growing trend of women wanting safe spaces for themselves to have fun without the fear of unwanted advances or spiked drinks.
Though, as far as I knew, there was no evidence that such a club would have long-term success, since a big part of the popularity of bars and clubs had to do with the dynamics of dating life.
It might not be politically correct to say, but men—historically—liked looking at pretty women. And women, by and large, liked getting all pretty in the hopes of finding a partner.
It was biologic.
Even if current statistics said young women had a significantly lower interest in dating than any generation before—especially when compared to men of the same age group—I was hedging my bets on more singles being open to meeting people in person after too many failed years using dating apps.
“Why are you looking so down in the dumps, huh? You should be celebrating. You’re this close,” she said, pinching together two fingers with her bright purple acrylic nails, “to having this deal in the bag. But you’re sitting here looking like someone kicked your puppy.”
“I’m happy about the deal.”
“Yeah, you look over the fuckin’ moon,” Teresa said, rolling her eyes. “You know what I think? You need to get out of here. When’s the last time you did anything other than work and sleep?”
“I also eat and go to the gym.”
“Real exciting life you got there. Come on. You’re a man in your prime. You’ve got boatloads of money. You walk around… looking like that,” she said, waving at me. “You should be having fun.”
“Are you saying you think I’m… attractive, Teresa?” I asked, teasing.
“Oh, please. You’re a walking billboard ad,” she said, waving her hand like I was being ridiculous. “Or, like one of those guys on the covers of those books my girlfriend is always reading. You know the ones. Lots of steam, and the kind of possessive men our mothers would warn us against dating in real life.”
“Are you saying your mother would warn you against me?”
“Eh, you’re alright. I mean, would it kill you to spend more than a night with a woman? Or, heaven forbid, find one you love and respect enough to marry and make babies with? But how are you even gonna find one, when all you do is sit in this office?”
She had a point.
I mean, not about finding just any woman.
But the answer to my current distraction problem lay in one particular woman.
“You’re right,” I said, closing my files and arranging them into a stack on my desk.
“Wait. What?”
“You’re right.”
“I mean, I know I’m right. I’m always right. But what am I right about right now?”
“I’m going out tonight.”
“Yeah? Good for you. I’m glad to see it. And not just because I want to cut out early before Marty watches our show before I get home. He doesn’t know I know but he totally watched it without me last week. Those laughs of his were too perfectly timed.” She said all of this while rushing out of my office to collect her things. “Okay. You don’t need anything else from me?” she asked, shoving her phone into her bag.
“I’m all set. I’m heading out with you.”
We rode down the elevator as she gave me a blow-by-blow of the show she and her husband were watching.
Then, just before walking out of the front doors, she turned back to remind me, “Just remember: babies and venereal diseases can last a lifetime.”
With that, she was gone, leaving me shaking my head and smiling even as I reached for my phone.
“Hey, boss man,” Calvin answered after one ring. “You need a lift?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll just head on over to the office now.”
“Actually, meet me at my apartment in an hour,” I said, starting to walk.
“Will do. Going anywhere special?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Sounds good. I got me a nice new playlist to keep me company,” he said, hanging up.
I drummed my fingers on my phone screen for a second, uncharacteristically nervous about a text.
Care to do some club research with me tonight?
The answer came back just as I was walking past my doorman.
What kind of research? Where?
There were a thousand ways I could have answered that. All of them being more professional than what I’d landed on.
Meet me at Bar B at nine. Wear something club appropriate.
I waited for her answer—a thumbs-up emoji—before tossing my phone on my kitchen counter and making my way toward the primary bedroom, peeling off layers of clothes as I went.