One month. She has one more month to keep her job. Or start looking for something new.
Patty gives her a sympathetic look.
As Sam exits the boardroom, she can feel Rutgard’s gaze boring a hole in her back. It clearly says: You’re gonna be out on your ass in a month.
3
“He did what?” Brian says, frowning.
They are both seated at a table for two in an ice-cream parlor. The parlor is fairly empty at this time of day. Outside, the sky is pouring cats and dogs, which accounts for no one getting ice-cream pangs today because they are all too busy getting sloshed. By dirty rainwater, that is.
Brian has ordered a raspberry sorbet while Sam digs her long spoon into a double fudge sundae. He watches her fascinatedly as the curved end of the spoon disappears into her mouth. He loves a woman who isn’t self-conscious about her eating.
Wait a minute. He used the ‘L’ word again. He doesn’t technically mean it, of course. He likes Sam – a lot. OK, more than a lot. But she’s a friend. A f**k buddy. That’s all she is.
They have been hanging out for the past six months. And he has enjoyed it. A lot. They go for dinners. They grab lunches together. They catch movies. They go bowling. Dancing. Clubbing. None of what they do can ever be considered a ‘real date’, of course – even though most of their outings end up in sex. In her new apartment. In his penthouse. In seedy motels. Wherever strikes their fancy.
It has been fun. Especially now that Caleb is in a relationship with Cassie, Sam’s best friend, Brian needed someone to hang out with. And who better than the one who is left out in the cold while their respective best friends f**k each other’s brains out?
He still maintains his freedom, of course. He does the occasional one night stand. Probably not as often as he used to, because he finds himself planning to do things with Sam rather than with some random woman whom he’s never going to see again after he has f**ked her. And Sam is free to do whatever she pleases. Of course.
Like he says – they are just ‘hanging out’.
“He threatened to retrench me if I didn’t get him the Moody account,” Sam says with a sigh. She spoons another big dollop of ice-cream into her mouth. Nothing like ice-cream as a balm for pain management.
“Uh . . . ” Brian indicates his own mouth. She’s so cute when she has fudge-smeared lips.
“What? Am I dripping?”
“Not yet, but I can practically see your double chin forming.”
She flashes him a murderous glare. Still, she hastily puts down her spoon.
“Aw, come on, don’t stop on my account. I like love handles.”
She picks up her chocolate-covered spoon and flicks spatters onto him. Milky droplets get onto his face and hair. He laughs as he holds up his hands in mock surrender.
“Hey, watch it, will ya? This is a two thousand dollar leather jacket.”
“Then you can afford a two hundred dollar laundry bill.” She plunges the spoon into her ice-cream again and morosely scoops in another mouthful. “I’m depressed, and therefore, I’m allowed to get fat.”
“I’ve always been partial to whoopee cushions.”
“I’ll whoop your ass if you make one more snide remark. Anyway, I have to land Moody . . . or it’s hasta la vista, new apartment.”
She looks so glum that he wishes he were on her side of the table so that he can put his arm around her.
“You know, Sam, if it’s money you need – ”
“Nope, nope, nope. Caleb warned me you’d be doing this – ”
“Oh, so Caleb has been talking about me behind my back. What else has he done? Sold my ass to the highest bidder without my stamp of sordid approval?”
“He was just trying to warn me about you.”
“Think of it as a loan. You can pay me back . . . with interest.”
“You’re already thinking I’m going to fail to get Moody,” she accuses, waving her dangerous spoon around.
He ducks his head under the table. “I’m just making allowances. It’s not about failure. It’s about contingency. And don’t wave that weapon around.”
She makes a face at him. “Anyway, I’m up against slutty Kathy.”
He pricks his ears up. “Slutty Kathy?”
“If you sleep with her, I’ll do more than wave this spoon around. I’ll positively shove it up your – ”
“OK, OK, I get the drift. Any way I can help with Kathy? I mean Moody?”
“No, I’ve got to this on my own.” She sighs. “I can’t get you to bail me out every time I run into a spot of trouble. What will happen when you’re no longer around? I’ll have to learn to fend for myself.”
“First of all, I plan on us being friends for a long, long time – whether or not we decide to fool around or whether you decide to get married or do something equally painful and disastrous.”
Her expression flinches. “Marriage is not disastrous.”
“You obviously haven’t met my parents.”
“And you’ve obviously met my mother.”
“There you go.”
“That’s not the point. Anyway, back to the topic at hand before you so rudely distracted me. I won’t stand a chance if Slutty Kathy has her way with Old Man Moody, who is seventy if he has seen a day.”
“So you want me to have my way with Old Man Moody?”
“Can you be serious for, like, a second? This is my job on the line.”
“And this is my help that I’m offering. I’ll make a few calls. Moody can’t be that reclusive, not if he runs a multimillion dollar business.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve got to do this on my own. You wouldn’t understand.”
He throws up his hands in defeat. “OK, have it your way. But when you’re destitute and peddling your ass in the streets, don’t say I didn’t try to help.”
“Your confidence in my abilities is staggering.”
“No, my confidence in Slutty Kathy’s ability to get a rise out of that moody old pecker is staggering, and I haven’t even met her, although she’s beginning to sound interesting.” He grins boyishly.
She rolls her eyes.
He indicates her empty ice-cream tray. “End of your calorie binge? Say, have you ever thought of doing something else?”
She frowns as she puts down her clean spoon. “You mean like eating frozen yoghurt instead of ice-cream?”
“No, I mean literally doing something else other than account management.” He shrugs. “Like, you know, coming to work for an advertising agency, for example.”