On the other hand, interviewers all have their own style. He could be one of those people who only hire people they can be friends with.
“Think positive,” I tell myself as I park and run back up to the office. If the Blaire Group wasn’t pretty sure about hiring me, Marion wouldn’t have wasted his time meeting for lunch. He could’ve flown back to Virginia after his morning meeting.
And there are other firms out there. I have eight weeks to make my escape.
Chapter Three
Emmett
Five twenty-nine p.m.
I look at the digital clock on my desk and watch the seconds tick by. Even through my office door, I can feel the palpable excitement of a few of the analysts and associates over their weekend plans.
I tap on the Pulse icon in my phone. As a rule, I don’t do
social media—it rots your brain and sucks up time and energy. But Pulse is something I own a thirty-six percent stake in. Most importantly, it’s where an up-and-coming influencer wannabe named Rick does his Rick on Romance spiel. The account’s content is geared toward single men trying to navigate the life complication called a relationship.
In my opinion, if you’re over the age of eighteen, you should know how to wine and dine women properly. But according to the follower count for Rick on Romance, over five hundred thousand men out there are pathetically clueless and desperate.
Rick’s latest video has just gone live. He’s in his SUV, a pair of reflective sunglasses wrapped around a narrow-ish face that reminds me of a horse. Not a sexy stallion, but a boring workhorse. The kind that farmers used to tie to a wagon full of shit to fertilize their fields.
“So I’m taking my girl out for our six-month anniversary.” His voice is full of faux excitement.
His girl? Ha! He hasn’t done any of the things I’d expect a real boyfriend to do for his girlfriend. Like take her out to a decent restaurant. And not regard every date as an opportunity to grow his follower count.
He’s treating Amy like a prop in his zeal to “guide” men who are even more hopeless than he is. That should be criminalized for the sake of all the poor women out there. Rick and his kind are why women are convinced that all the good men are either taken or gay.
“It’s important to celebrate every milestone, you know,” he continues.
Is it now?
“So I reserved a rustic cabin in Lake Tahoe.”
But why? When I asked, “Cabin or all-inclusive resort?” Amy picked resort, no hesitation. He should know her preference if he’s really her boyfriend. I know what she likes, and I’m just her boss!
“Only the very best for my girl.” He grins, flashing large, square teeth. I guess he can say he’s hung like a horse…from the gums. And what’s up with that gap between the two front incisors?
What does Amy see in this guy?
She’s a second-year associate at GrantEm Capital, the venture capital firm I founded with my brother Grant. She has a degree in economics from Harvard, a two-year stint as an analyst at Goldman Sachs and an MBA from Wharton. It’s a damn impressive résumé. Too bad all those amazing qualifications and education didn’t do a thing to improve her judgment in men.
When a woman is as hot and smart as Amy, she can do better than Rick. The guy’s a six at best. And not a solid six. A sad, barely there, slippery-grip-on-a-six six.
Rick laughs. He sounds like a donkey.
Forget the six. He’s a five.
“And we’re going to go hiking because it’s good to be active when you’re having fun,” he says.
What’s he smoking? Amy likes getting massages when she wants to kick back and pamper herself. Hiking is her idea of torture. How can he not know this?
“I’m also packing this for our meals.” He waves a roll of aluminum foil.
For a split second I wonder if he plans to feed her the foil. But no—he intends to wrap stuff in the foil and toss it into a fire to cook.
He can’t take her to a nice restaurant? Given a choice, Amy prefers room service versus cooking it yourself. I know because I asked.
How self-centered do you have to be to date a woman for six months and not know anything about her? How narcissistic do you have to be to plan activities that only you’re going to like?