"It wasn't like that. It was definitely something serious." I pick at the fried chicken on my plate. Adley is great at many things. She can tell you at any given moment what the weather forecast in New York City will be for the next ten days. Her ability to sing, without taking one lesson, is inspiring. She can't cook, though, but that's not for lack of trying.
Tonight's main course is overcooked chicken breast and soggy green beans. The appetizer was a spicy chorizo soup that made my eyes water and my throat burn after one spoonful. I'm now filling up on the freshly baked loaf of sea salt focaccia I picked up at the bakery at the corner on my way home from work.
"Mayday is a distress call." She uses the blade of her knife to push all the green beans into a pile near the edge of her plate. "Maybe there was an emergency in one of the stores."
"I hung around until his assistant, Eda, got back from her break." I cut a small piece of chicken in half. "I wanted to see if she knew what was going on."
"Let me guess. She didn't tell you a thing,"
"She told me one thing." I hold up my index finger and wiggle it. "She said that he left the building and might not be back for the rest of the day so if I had anything further to discuss with him, I'd have to schedule another meeting when he's free."
"Are you going to do it?" She takes a bite of chicken and frowns. "This is dry. It's really dry, isn't it, Bean?"
"Am I going to do what?" I ignore the invitation to criticize her cooking. Now that I'm back in Manhattan and I have a job that offers financial stability I can finally do a few things to thank Adley for all she's done for me the last few years. The first thing on my list is cooking lessons for both of us. If I ask her to tag along with me, instead of pushing her to go on her own, she won't be offended, and ultimately I won't have to eat chicken this overcooked again.
"Schedule another meeting with his lap."
I smile, counting the remaining beans on my plate. Seven. I'll eat them all and the chicken too. I always clear my plate. "I didn't sit on Nolan's lap during our meeting today."
"I don't think he would have minded if you had." Adley pushes her plate aside, reaching for a chunk of bread.
I laugh at the mental image of me walking into Nolan's office and settling on his lap. "What happened in Vegas was a one-time thing. I'm back here now and I work for him."
She washes down a bite of bread with a swallow of lemonade. "I saw the way he looked at you in Las Vegas. I'm not just talking about when you were rubbing your ass all over him."
"I wasn't rubbing my ass all over him," I say with an exaggerated scowl. "How was he looking at me?"
"Like you were an answer to a prayer."
"You're such a hopeless romantic, Ad." I flutter my eyelashes. "Unless Nolan Black has been praying for someone to clean up the lax security in Matiz's stores, I'm not an answer to any of his prayers."
"You're wrong, Bean." She slides her chair back from the kitchen table. "He feels something for you and I have no doubt that he'd be okay with you sitting in his lap during every meeting you two have, business or otherwise."
"No more talking about Nolan's lap." I spear a piece of chicken with my fork. "I'm going to finish my dinner. Do you want to go to Cremza when I'm done to split a scoop of cookie dough ice cream?"
She pauses, stopping as she reaches for her plate. "That's a deal as long as I can treat you. It's my turn to pay."
"We haven't gotten ice cream together in more than a year. How do you remember who paid last time?"
"It was the day you left for Vegas." There's a sad note in her voice. "It was one of the worst days of my life. I remember every single second of it."
I push up to my feet, wrapping my arms around her. "I'm back now. This is where I belong. I'm never leaving again."
***
"Randy is meeting me here." Adley glances around the small, very crowded ice cream shop. "I sent him a text on the way over. You don't mind, do you?"
"Randy from last night?" I walk back through my mind trying to pinpoint which of the three men we met last night was named Randy. I didn't care enough to notice. Adley did, though. I could tell when one of the men sat next to her and the top of her cheeks flushed pink.
She nods. "He gave me his number before we left the bar. I was going to wait two days to text him, but life is short."
My fingertips brush over the screen of my phone. I didn't take any numbers last night, although two were offered. My excuse was that I just moved back to the city and still needed time to adjust. The truth was that neither of them seemed all that interesting to me.
"I'll order our ice cream." Adley approaches the counter. "Should we get one or two scoops of cookie dough?"
"One." I smile as she scans the menu hanging on the wall. "We don't want to waste any."
"Ice cream never goes to waste when I'm near it." She pulls a twenty from her wallet. "I'll get one scoop, two spoons."