“Yes, munchkin,” Bellamy taunts with poorly hidden laughter. “We’re going to gab.”
But before she turns away, she mouths, You were right.
I laugh and mouth back, I told you so.
And, yes, it’s very satisfying.
In the living room, I pour myself two fingers of scotch from the decanter on the bar table, then flop onto the couch. I grab The Bonfire of the Vanities from the coffee table. As I open it, reading idly, bits and pieces of the conversation in Grandma’s room float through the spacious home.
“Could he have been any preppier?” Bellamy asks.
“No, dear. He could not. Not even if he’d owned the entire Izod company.”
A few moments later . . .
“Of course he plays blackjack.”
“And he never loses, I swear. He’s got the Midas touch at the tables.”
And after that . . .
“Oh, this is a sweet shot by the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Yes, that’s him and Anna. May she rest in peace.”
I freeze, glass midair.
There’s a pause, then Bellamy repeats somberly, “May she rest in peace.”
I still don’t move, imagining Bellamy’s checking out a picture of me with a woman I was in love with once upon a time.
But they quickly move on and are talking about music—Cole Porter versus Cyndi Lauper—as I finish the drink and set it down with a yawn, turning a page in the book.
There’s something so natural about Bellamy chatting with Coco, even after angry sex with me.
Bellamy and I don’t see eye to eye, and while that pissed me off earlier, I’m not so annoyed now. Maybe that’s the Great Sex Effect?
Or maybe it’s the Coco Effect. It’s endearing in ways I didn’t expect, hearing the two of them debate Ella Fitzgerald versus Pink. Funny that Bellamy likes Ella and Coco picks Pink.
I flip another page, but the words start to blur as I sink deeper into the soft pillows of the couch.
“I heard your podcast about Carpe Diem,” Coco says, like it’s a delicious secret. “So scathing.”
“Was it too much?” There’s a hint of regret in Bellamy’s tone. Does she wish she hadn’t aired the piece this afternoon?
“Darling, never apologize for speaking your mind. It’s something that women really ought to do every day. In business and in love.”
“You know, I think you’re right,” Bellamy says, her tone confident, the voice of someone who just made a big decision.
I’m not sure what that might be, but I doubt I’ll puzzle it out further tonight. Not with my eyes floating closed as the exhausted bliss of great sex finally catches up with me.
When I wake up to the sun peeking through the window, Bellamy is gone.
23
Grandma Crush
From the Email Correspondence of Bellamy Hart and Easton Ford
* * *
Dear Easton,
* * *
I think I have a crush on your grandmother.
* * *
Bellamy, AKA The One You Can’t Stand
Dear Bellamy,
* * *
The crush appears mutual. The first thing Coco did when she woke up was order the ingredients for Moscow Mules from her favorite liquor store. I hope I didn’t spoil any surprise when the invitation for cocktails arrives.
* * *
Yours in I can still feel the effects of that hate sex,
Easton
Dear Easton,
* * *
Good. Because there are so many more tales I want to extract from her.
* * *
Yours in . . . same here,
Bellamy
Dear Bellamy,
* * *
I’m sure she has plenty more to share about the trouble I got into.
* * *
Easton
The Purveyor of Enemy-Delivered Os
Dear Easton,
* * *
Did I say they were tales about you? Please. Maybe I want to hear stories about her life.
* * *
Bellamy,
Greedy Recipient of those Os
Dear Bellamy,
* * *
I appreciate your commitment to knocking me down a peg or two.
* * *
Yours,
Easton
Dear Easton,
* * *
Try three.
* * *
Bellamy
Dear Bellamy,
* * *
Today’s debate is this—whether I still can’t stand you or I still want to bend you over the couch.
* * *
Yours in dilemmas,
Easton
Dear Easton,
* * *
You know it’s both.
* * *
Dilemma solved,
Bellamy
Friday Morning…
* * *
Dear Easton,
* * *
I hope you’re having a good day. Can you meet in person this afternoon? There are things I’d like to discuss.
* * *
My best,
Bellamy
24
The Potential of Gift Bangs
As I tug on running clothes on Friday morning, I brace myself for further fallout from Bellamy’s podcast piece. It was released three days ago now, but The Dating Pool has it featured on the homepage this morning.
Warily, I log into the Carpe Diem database on my phone, but nobody has canceled for the next party.
Weird.
Tucking my phone into the pocket of my shorts, I head over to The High Line to meet TJ and Nolan. We hit the running path quickly, and I catch them up on all things Bellamy, then ask the big question. “How long will it take for the aftershocks of her report to hit my business?”
TJ scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You’re thinking Miss Million Frogs is a poisonous one?”