BEN
As soon as Hollister began caressing my leg with her foot, I was looking for the server to get us our check. We were out of the restaurant ten minutes later. Unfortunately, our driver had disappeared. The October air had gotten chilly, and I offered Hollister my jacket. She placed it over her shoulders like a shawl and slipped her arm through mine as we walked aimlessly down the sidewalk of Christopher Street in the West Village while I tried to figure out the best course of action.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Now we have some more time here, and we have the entire city in front of us. We don’t have to rush home.”
Personally, I was excited to get her home and into my bed, but I didn’t want to seem singularly focused on sex.
“I’ll call around and find us another car service.”
“We can just take the train,” she argued. “Seriously, it’s not that bad.”
“We have Mud Warriors tomorrow,” I reminded her. “Are you sure you want to stay out late?”
“Let’s at least get drinks somewhere fabulous or find a place with live music or improv or karaoke.”
I shot her a look of pure fear. “Please don’t make me do karaoke.”
“Oh, yes. That would be awesome! I totally need a video of you singing Adele.” She took heed of my warning glare. “Fine, fine. No karaoke. It’s fun just walking around here. Jenna, Bridget, and I used to come to the Village all the time back in high school, when it was still considered funky. Although we always preferred the seedier East Village, which is gentrified now too.”
We turned down a side street, and I gestured toward the window of the sex toy shop we were passing, complete with a mannequin in leather and chains. “Not completely gentrified it would seem.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Sex toys have gone mainstream, haven’t they?”
I swallowed hard, reminded of all the reasons I wanted to get home with her. “Have they?”
“Absolutely.” She squeezed my arm. “If they were open, we could go inside and I’d educate you.”
I leaned down to whisper in her ear, “And what would you want to show me in there first?”
Before she could answer, two men came out of a door in front of us and hurried away, the taller one brushing up against Hollister’s shoulder. He jostled her slightly.
“Look where you’re walking,” I reminded him sternly.
“Sorry,” he said over his shoulder before turning back to his friend to continue their conversation.
She pulled us to a stop and gaped at them as they disappeared down the block. “Was that Pedro Pascal?”
“Who?”
“They came out of that door. See where those other people are going in?” She pointed to a plain metal door between a cleaners and a coffee shop, both of which were closed. “I think it’s one of those speakeasy type places that’s unmarked. You just have to be in the know.”
“What makes you think it’s not someone’s apartment building or a business?” I asked.
“They knocked and some guy opened the door.” She took my hand in hers. “We’re checking this out.”
She marched us to the door then hovered there like we were making some kind of criminal investigation of the place.
“I’m flattered you think I’m cool enough for this,” I whispered.
“I never said that.” She knocked on the door. “Let me do the talking.”
A bearded young white man, wearing what looked like my great-aunt Pat’s eyeglasses from the seventies, answered the door. He looked us up and down, thoroughly unimpressed.
“’Sup,” he said.
“Hello.” Hollister raised her eyebrows suggestively. “We’re here to get a drink.”
He studied us with bored eyes, clearly preparing to reject us. “Password?”
Hollister’s smile was pure confidence. “Okay, fine, we don’t know the password, but I’m writing an article for the Times about these kinds of places, so can I get in with my reporter credentials?”
“Sorry.” The guy started to close the door in our faces. “Nope.”
She put out a hand to stop the door from slamming on us. “Please? It’s my birthday.”
“Happy birthday, lady. No password, no entry.” He pushed harder, and I joined her in pushing back against him. Together, we managed to stop his progress.
“How about the password is fifty bucks cash if you let us inside?” I said.
He was quiet for a second before opening the door again. “I do believe that’s it, senator.”
I pulled the bills from my wallet and handed them to him. He extended his arm, revealing a red, irritated looking tattoo spanning from his wrist to his elbow.
“Did you recently get that?” I asked.
He looked down at the colorful pin-up girl inked on his skin. “Yeah. It’s not looking too great, is it?”
“I’m a doctor, and that looks infected. You should get it checked out as soon as possible. I’m serious.”
“Thanks. Yeah, I’ll go to urgent care as soon as my shift ends.” In seconds, he changed from power-crazed doorman to frightened twenty-something-year-old. “My mom said I should get it looked at, but I thought she was being, you know, a mom.”
“Listen to your mom,” Hollister said in a tone that was slightly threatening. “We know stuff.”
Ten minutes later, she and I were at a cozy corner table nursing sidecars. She was right; it was a speakeasy. In other words a dimly lit bar with overpriced, old-fashioned drinks and cool looking people, most of whom were half our age. At least we weren’t absurdly overdressed—several other guys were wearing suits, although theirs were slim-fitted and ended at the ankle like high-waters.
“Why did he call me senator?” I asked.
She took the maraschino cherry from her glass and popped it in her mouth, separating it from the stem. I wanted to be that cherry.
“I think it’s the suit. You look very powerful.” She planted a kiss on my lips that tasted like cherry juice and brandy. “It’s a power suit.”
“I think you’re a little tipsy.”
“Maybe a little. Which means this is a good time to get your opinion on something.”
“Why does that make it a good time to get my opinion?”
“Because if you say something I don’t like, it will soften the blow.”
“I’m not sure if that’s how alcohol works, but tell me anyway.”
“You know Aaron, my favorite client? He wants me to head up a PR team at Gambit. I’d be the Chief Communications Officer. The Big Cheese.”
She was definitely buzzed and completely adorable.
“Wow, that’s amazing, Hols.” I ran a hand over her cheek. “Congratulations. I wish you’d told me sooner. We should have had champagne at dinner.”
“Yeah, I haven’t accepted the job yet though.”
“Because…”
“I’ve had kind of a dicey track record at corporate jobs. I’ve been fired and laid off a couple of times.”
I was genuinely shocked. Hollister was brilliant, hard-working, and creative. How could her work history be so inconsistent?
“I find that hard to believe.”
“No, it’s true. There was the boss who stole all my ideas and took credit for them, so I quit that position. She was lovely. At the next place, there was the boss who told me I didn’t fit in with the company’s culture, which really meant I had a kid and couldn’t work seventy hours a week and be at his beck and call. Then there was the boss who thought it was fine to rub my back when we were alone. I brought sexual harassment charges to HR, and they mysteriously cut my position. Honestly, working for myself has been the best gig I’ve ever had.”
“So why change it?” I asked. “You’re doing great, right?”
“It’s been wonderful, but Gambit is on the verge of becoming huge, and I’d love to be a part of their journey. You know I adore working with Aaron, and I believe in his vision for the company. I’d have benefits like health insurance and vacation time and a fabulous salary. It’s pretty tempting.”
I wanted to dole out advice, but I knew to tread softly. She’d already mentioned my saying something she didn’t want to hear, and I could be too direct at times.
“What’s the downside other than giving up your consulting company?”
“What if it doesn’t work out at Gambit? Rebuilding my life at forty was hard. Starting over at fifty sounds terrifying.”
“It’s a risk,” I said. “But what’s your motto?”
“My motto?”
“YOLO.”
She arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you going to mock YOLO again?”
“No, but it means no regrets, right? You only live once. Which would you regret more, not taking this job or not keeping your company going?”
“I’d regret not taking the Gambit job,” she said immediately, not even needing to think about it. “I could always start up my company again. It would be hard, but I could do it. This job won’t be there if I turn it down and someone else gets it. And I’d lose Aaron, and he’s my favorite client, as well as my most lucrative.”
“You have your answer then.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “How did you do that? How did you help me figure that out so quickly? I’ve been struggling with this forever.”
“Maybe the alcohol loosened you up. Or maybe I should be your new life coach.”
She squeezed my cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “I’m not sure if you’re adorable or insufferable.”
“Maybe both?” I mumbled through squashed cheeks.
She let go of me and smiled. “Hey, we never finished your YOLO list. We need to work on that.”
“Do I need a list? I feel like we’re checking things off tonight that I never even knew I wanted to do.” I ticked them off with my fingers. “Watch you massacre a lobster.” She pinched me for that one. “Ow. See a movie star I’ve never heard of. Bribe a doorman to get into a speakeasy.”
“That jackass should have given you your fifty back. You could have saved his life!”
“Doesn’t matter. Worth every penny.” I slipped a hand behind her head and brought her mouth to mine.
She melted against me, kissing me deeply, her warm tongue tangling with mine. My hands skimmed up from her waist to the sides of her breasts, my thumbs stroking over her curves. She moaned into my mouth in response. It was an unusual public display of affection from me, and I loved every second of it.
“You know what would be on my list?” I asked when we stopped kissing to catch our breath. “Doing all the things with you that I never got to do in high school.”
“Naked things?” She ran her hand from my knee to my thigh, which was a problem because I was already overexcited and feeling the strain in my dress pants. “Because we can totally do that stuff now. I might not be quite as limber as back then, but—”
I put my hand on top of hers. “I didn’t mean naked stuff, although yes, let’s do all of that. But I meant other things, like prom and senior cut day. We were co-valedictorians, and we didn’t even party together on graduation night.”
“Yes, because we weren’t friends back then,” she said. “And I never in a million years thought you’d do senior cut day.”
“Only with you. You get me to do things that no one else can.”
“Is that right?” she said in a breathy voice, leaning in close. “Ben, I’d like you to scrub my toilets this week.”
“Hollister, I don’t even clean my own toilets,” I whispered back. “I have a cleaning service.”
“Damn.” She smacked my leg. “So quickly you take it back.”
“You know what I will do?” She looked at me expectantly. “I will buy you a hot dog at the train station.”
She bit her bottom lip. “A dirty water hot dog from a cart?”
Despite my willpower, my nostrils flared in disgust. “Yes.”
She took my face in her hands. “Best date ever.”