black metal
spokes with matching backless lacquered stools.
Instantly, I became self-conscious.
The girl standing at the hostess stand
looked more like a model than a hostess, with a slicked-back ponytail and deep
red lipstick.
“Can I help you?’ she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m meeting someone here.”
I scanned the room for Jeffrey, but I
didn’t see him anywhere.
“Name?” the hostess asked.
“Avery Buchanan.”
She glanced down at the open reservation
book in front of her. “Your party doesn’t have a reservation.”
“Oh. I mean, it’s probably… the reservation is probably under
Adams.”
She checked again, then reached down and
pulled out a menu that looked more like a fancy bound book. She turned and began walking toward the
back of the restaurant. After a
moment, I followed her.
Jeffrey was sitting at a two-top, talking
on his phone. When he saw me, he
looked up and gave me a big smile. He was wearing a crisp white shirt tucked into perfectly-cut navy blue pants. He looked so
normal. No one would have been
able to guess the disgusting things he was capable of doing.
“Hey,” he said, ending his call. “I’m glad you came.” He was trying to sound nice, but I
wasn’t going to fall for it.
I slid into the seat across from him,
trying not to let my dress hike up as I climbed onto the stool.
The waiter appeared, seemingly out of
nowhere. He also had the look of a
model, that sort of heroin chic thing that a lot of people in New York seemed
to have going.
“I’ll have an IPO,” Jeffrey said. “Avery? What are you drinking?”
“Just some water with lemon,” I said.
The waiter nodded and left to go fetch
our drinks.
Jeffrey grinned. “Really? You’re dry now?”
“No, I’m not dry now,” I said. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate to
be drinking during the work day.”
“Really?” Jeffrey asked,
sounding amused. “Cole’s
got you on a tight leash over there, huh?”
You
don’t even know the half of it, I thought.
“No,” I said haughtily, before realizing
I might have to make it seem like I was annoyed with Cole if I wanted to pump
Jeffrey for information about him. “He’s fine. I mean, he’s…
you know, he’s Cole.”
The waiter returned and set our drinks
down on the table. “I’ll give you
a moment with the menus,” he said before leaving again.
“What do you mean, he’s Cole?” Jeffrey picked up his beer, ignoring the frosted glass next to it and taking a
long swig straight from the bottle instead.
My phone buzzed on the table next to me
before I could answer.
Cole.
Where
are you?
I sucked in a breath. Did he know I’d left the building? Or was he simply asking because he was
worried and wanted to know exactly where I was?
“Is that him ?”
Jeffrey asked.
I picked up my phone and turned it off
before sliding it into my purse. Ignoring Cole filled me with a delicious
feeling of rebelliousness. He
thought he could do whatever he wanted, like the way he came into my bedroom
last night and then just up and left after having his way with me. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could
leave someone waiting.
“Yes,” I said to Jeffrey.
“You know, Avery,” Jeffrey said, taking another long, slow pull of his beer. “You need to be careful working for
Cole.”
“What do you mean?”
Jeffrey looked around, like he was
worried about people hearing us. The restaurant was about half full, but the only other people back in
our section were two guys dressed in khakis and button-downs who were sitting
at the booth next to us. They
seemed to be in a heated debate about something having to do with their
bill. One guy was trying to tell
the other guy he owed ten dollars more.
I tried not to roll my eyes. Those guys knew nothing about what it
was really like to be worried about money, knew nothing about what it was like
to scrounge
spokes with matching backless lacquered stools.
Instantly, I became self-conscious.
The girl standing at the hostess stand
looked more like a model than a hostess, with a slicked-back ponytail and deep
red lipstick.
“Can I help you?’ she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m meeting someone here.”
I scanned the room for Jeffrey, but I
didn’t see him anywhere.
“Name?” the hostess asked.
“Avery Buchanan.”
She glanced down at the open reservation
book in front of her. “Your party doesn’t have a reservation.”
“Oh. I mean, it’s probably… the reservation is probably under
Adams.”
She checked again, then reached down and
pulled out a menu that looked more like a fancy bound book. She turned and began walking toward the
back of the restaurant. After a
moment, I followed her.
Jeffrey was sitting at a two-top, talking
on his phone. When he saw me, he
looked up and gave me a big smile. He was wearing a crisp white shirt tucked into perfectly-cut navy blue pants. He looked so
normal. No one would have been
able to guess the disgusting things he was capable of doing.
“Hey,” he said, ending his call. “I’m glad you came.” He was trying to sound nice, but I
wasn’t going to fall for it.
I slid into the seat across from him,
trying not to let my dress hike up as I climbed onto the stool.
The waiter appeared, seemingly out of
nowhere. He also had the look of a
model, that sort of heroin chic thing that a lot of people in New York seemed
to have going.
“I’ll have an IPO,” Jeffrey said. “Avery? What are you drinking?”
“Just some water with lemon,” I said.
The waiter nodded and left to go fetch
our drinks.
Jeffrey grinned. “Really? You’re dry now?”
“No, I’m not dry now,” I said. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate to
be drinking during the work day.”
“Really?” Jeffrey asked,
sounding amused. “Cole’s
got you on a tight leash over there, huh?”
You
don’t even know the half of it, I thought.
“No,” I said haughtily, before realizing
I might have to make it seem like I was annoyed with Cole if I wanted to pump
Jeffrey for information about him. “He’s fine. I mean, he’s…
you know, he’s Cole.”
The waiter returned and set our drinks
down on the table. “I’ll give you
a moment with the menus,” he said before leaving again.
“What do you mean, he’s Cole?” Jeffrey picked up his beer, ignoring the frosted glass next to it and taking a
long swig straight from the bottle instead.
My phone buzzed on the table next to me
before I could answer.
Cole.
Where
are you?
I sucked in a breath. Did he know I’d left the building? Or was he simply asking because he was
worried and wanted to know exactly where I was?
“Is that him ?”
Jeffrey asked.
I picked up my phone and turned it off
before sliding it into my purse. Ignoring Cole filled me with a delicious
feeling of rebelliousness. He
thought he could do whatever he wanted, like the way he came into my bedroom
last night and then just up and left after having his way with me. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could
leave someone waiting.
“Yes,” I said to Jeffrey.
“You know, Avery,” Jeffrey said, taking another long, slow pull of his beer. “You need to be careful working for
Cole.”
“What do you mean?”
Jeffrey looked around, like he was
worried about people hearing us. The restaurant was about half full, but the only other people back in
our section were two guys dressed in khakis and button-downs who were sitting
at the booth next to us. They
seemed to be in a heated debate about something having to do with their
bill. One guy was trying to tell
the other guy he owed ten dollars more.
I tried not to roll my eyes. Those guys knew nothing about what it
was really like to be worried about money, knew nothing about what it was like
to scrounge
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