“How much are we talking here?” He finished his glass then ordered both of us another round.
“Almost $200,000.”
Both of his eyes snapped wide open. “Two hundred thousand? Are you a doctor or something?”
“No…I wish.” At least I would be making more money. “I have a masters in marketing. I’m an executive at Cutie Clothes.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s why you recognize me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m the CEO of Silk, the women’s fashion line.”
The second he said those words, everything clicked into place. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere…” I’d been comfortable with him just a minute ago, and now I was seriously intimidated. This man was a fashion icon, running a company that produced fashion gems that women dreamed of. Not only was he successful, he was brilliant. And I happened to bump into him at a bar on a Wednesday night.
“Don’t start acting weird around me. This conversation has been delightful so far…until you realized who I was.”
“I’m not being weird. I’m just…a big fan.” I grabbed my glass but felt my hand shake as I gripped it. “Silk is an amazing company. The clothes, the fabric… I worked a second job one summer just so I could buy a pair of your heels.”
“You flatter me,” he said with a smile. “Looks like we have a lot in common. Cutie Clothes has some good stuff too.”
“It’s not Silk,” I said with a laugh. “Your clothes are sophisticated and sexy without showing too much skin. The patterns are so subtle but so powerful. I love Cutie Clothes, don’t get me wrong, but Silk is phenomenal.” If I had more money, I would buy more clothes. Maybe it was a good thing I was poor.
The corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “What do you do in marketing?”
“I handle all the editorial placements, the billboards, and the digital ads we put everywhere. It doesn’t sound like much, but those ads have to be updated every three days before they go stale. It’s constant.”
“No, I understand. It’s the biggest job in the company. What’s the point of making a great product if no one knows it exists? Or better yet, what’s the point of having a company without having a brand? Very vital to the health of the business.” He tapped his two fingers against his skull.
“So…what’s your story?”
“Pardon?” he asked, having no idea what I was referring to.
“With your love life? Is there a douchebag woman out there who wronged you?”
“Not really,” he said. “Nothing like what happened to you. I’m a serial monogamist, but my relationships don’t last very long.”
“Because you don’t want them to?”
“No. They just don’t. I’m not looking to settle down, but if I met the right woman, I would stick it out. But finding the right woman in Manhattan is impossible.”
“There are seven million people who live here,” I said with a laugh. “So how’s that possible?”
“Well, most women know who I am, so they care more about my success than the man underneath the suit.”
Slate told me the horror story about his brother, that he had a backstabbing woman who only wanted to pick his pocket. “Yeah, I can see that. That’s unfortunate. Maybe you should start dating in Iowa or something.”
He chuckled. “That’s quite a commute.”
“But no one would know who you are.”
“Probably not,” he admitted, keeping his fingers wrapped around his glass. He watched me for a while, his blue eyes a lot kinder than Slate’s brown ones. He wore a boyish smile as he spoke. “You want to have dinner with me sometime?”
“I don’t live in Iowa.”
He chuckled. “I’ll make an exception.”
“I just told you I sold my virginity for money. That’s not a turn-off for you?”
“It was in the beginning, but when you told me how much you owed in student loans, I couldn’t blame you. You’d be paying that back until the day you died.”
I would pay back my mother’s hospital bill until the day I died. “Yep…”
“So, no, I don’t judge you. Your first time is usually a bad experience anyway, so you might as well get paid for it, right?”
It wasn’t a bad experience. I had been hoping it would be the first of many experiences.
“So, is that a yes?”
My instinct was to say no. Just an hour ago, I showed up at Slate’s apartment demanding an explanation for his coldness. He hurt me more than I realized, and turning my back on him was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. I felt like I’d lost my best friend. But Slate was an asshole and knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to fuck the next virgin…and then the next. Now he was bored with me. So why should I say no to the handsome man I admired? I didn’t owe Slate anything—and he clearly didn’t think he owed me anything. “Yeah…I think it is.”