Tangled
Page 19
She’s a woman, after all.
When all I get is silence, I can’t help but push. “Kate, about last night—”
She cuts me off. “Last night was a mistake. It will not happen again.”
Do you know anything about child psychology? No? Well here’s a lesson for you. If you tell a kid they can’t do something, guess what’s the first thing they’re going to try and do the minute you’re not looking? Exactly.
Men are the same way. It’s so going to happen again. But she doesn’t need to know that at the moment.
“Okay.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
She whispers, “Fine.”
Fine’s a funny word, don’t you think? I don’t think there’s another like it in the English language that says so much while actually saying so little. How many wives have told their husbands, “I’m fine,” when they really mean, “I want to cut your balls off with a butcher knife”? How many men have told their girlfriends, “You look fine,” when they really mean, “You need to go back to the gym and work out—a lot.” It’s the universal way of saying we’re just peachy—when we’re really anything but.
“Fine,” I repeat, looking down at the papers on my desk.
And then she’s out the door, and I spend the next ten minutes staring after her, replaying last night over and over in my mind.
Hey, you know another word that can mean the opposite of what it’s supposed to?
Fucked.
Which is exactly what I’m going to be if I don’t get my head out of my ass and back in the game by seven o’clock tonight.
Our dinner meeting is well under way. Although I’ve done a lot of the talking, it’s Kate that has Saul Anderson completely charmed. If I wasn’t in such a pissy mood, I’d admit that she’s working this meeting like a pro. But I am, so I’m not telling anyone but you.
She laughs at some story Anderson just finished telling before he excuses himself to go to the john. I take a drink of my wine, wishing it was whiskey.
Kate turns to me, freshman excitement dancing in her eyes. “So this is going really well, isn’t it? I mean, I definitely think he’s interested, don’t you?”
I shrug. “Depends on what you’re trying to sell him.”
“What are you talking about? I’m selling us—our proposal, our investment firm.”
I’m being a prick—yes, I know.
“Really? ’Cause it seems like you’re offering him something else entirely.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Come on, Kate. You went to Wharton. I think you can figure out exactly what I’m saying.”
“I have been completely professional…”
“You’d be more subtle if you ripped open your blouse and shoved your tits in his face.”
Okay, that was uncalled for. And I actually consider apologizing.
But before I can form the words, ice-cold liquid seeps through my pants and into my crotch. From the glass of water Kate just poured into my lap.
“Are you f**king crazy?” I whisper harshly, trying not to make a scene as I jump up and wipe at the stain with a napkin.
“Everything all right here?”
It’s Anderson. He’s back and looking from me to Kate. I shrug awkwardly as Kate smiles and tells him, “Everything’s fine.”
There’s that word again. See what I mean?
“Drew just had a little mishap with his water glass. You know boys—can’t take them anywhere.”
Anderson laughs and sits back down, while I weigh my chances for an acquittal. The one I’ll need after I strangle Kate Brooks.
An hour later, we’re waiting for coffee and dessert. Kate has left the table. I’m thinking her bladder must have been seconds from rupturing for her to actually leave me alone with Anderson.
He observes me for a moment and then says, “I like what I’ve seen here tonight, Drew. Very impressive.”
“Thanks, Saul.”
In business, always use first names. It’s not disrespectful. It shows that you’re an equal—in the same league. That’s huge.
“And based on what you’ve shown me, I’m ready to give Evans, Reinhart and Fisher my business.”
Yes! Break out the champagne, baby.
“I’m pleased to hear that. I think this deal is going to be very profitable for both—that is, all of us.” Can’t forget Kate, right? As if she would let me. “You can put your complete confidence in Kate and me. We won’t let you down.”
He fingers his crystal glass. “Right. About that. Before I sign, I have only one contingency.”
This kind of thing happens all the time. Not a big deal.
“Go ahead, Saul. I’m sure we can provide whatever you need.”
“I’m happy to hear that. So, why don’t you have that darling girl of yours—Kate—bring the contracts by my place tonight, around midnight.” He hands me a business card, and I feel like there’s a boulder in my stomach.
Can you feel it too?
“Here’s where I’m staying. You have her bring the papers…alone.”
You know on TV when there’s one of those awkward, shocking moments and all you hear are the crickets in the background?
Well chirp-fucking-chirp. This is one of those moments.
“I’m not sure I…”
When all I get is silence, I can’t help but push. “Kate, about last night—”
She cuts me off. “Last night was a mistake. It will not happen again.”
Do you know anything about child psychology? No? Well here’s a lesson for you. If you tell a kid they can’t do something, guess what’s the first thing they’re going to try and do the minute you’re not looking? Exactly.
Men are the same way. It’s so going to happen again. But she doesn’t need to know that at the moment.
“Okay.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
She whispers, “Fine.”
Fine’s a funny word, don’t you think? I don’t think there’s another like it in the English language that says so much while actually saying so little. How many wives have told their husbands, “I’m fine,” when they really mean, “I want to cut your balls off with a butcher knife”? How many men have told their girlfriends, “You look fine,” when they really mean, “You need to go back to the gym and work out—a lot.” It’s the universal way of saying we’re just peachy—when we’re really anything but.
“Fine,” I repeat, looking down at the papers on my desk.
And then she’s out the door, and I spend the next ten minutes staring after her, replaying last night over and over in my mind.
Hey, you know another word that can mean the opposite of what it’s supposed to?
Fucked.
Which is exactly what I’m going to be if I don’t get my head out of my ass and back in the game by seven o’clock tonight.
Our dinner meeting is well under way. Although I’ve done a lot of the talking, it’s Kate that has Saul Anderson completely charmed. If I wasn’t in such a pissy mood, I’d admit that she’s working this meeting like a pro. But I am, so I’m not telling anyone but you.
She laughs at some story Anderson just finished telling before he excuses himself to go to the john. I take a drink of my wine, wishing it was whiskey.
Kate turns to me, freshman excitement dancing in her eyes. “So this is going really well, isn’t it? I mean, I definitely think he’s interested, don’t you?”
I shrug. “Depends on what you’re trying to sell him.”
“What are you talking about? I’m selling us—our proposal, our investment firm.”
I’m being a prick—yes, I know.
“Really? ’Cause it seems like you’re offering him something else entirely.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Come on, Kate. You went to Wharton. I think you can figure out exactly what I’m saying.”
“I have been completely professional…”
“You’d be more subtle if you ripped open your blouse and shoved your tits in his face.”
Okay, that was uncalled for. And I actually consider apologizing.
But before I can form the words, ice-cold liquid seeps through my pants and into my crotch. From the glass of water Kate just poured into my lap.
“Are you f**king crazy?” I whisper harshly, trying not to make a scene as I jump up and wipe at the stain with a napkin.
“Everything all right here?”
It’s Anderson. He’s back and looking from me to Kate. I shrug awkwardly as Kate smiles and tells him, “Everything’s fine.”
There’s that word again. See what I mean?
“Drew just had a little mishap with his water glass. You know boys—can’t take them anywhere.”
Anderson laughs and sits back down, while I weigh my chances for an acquittal. The one I’ll need after I strangle Kate Brooks.
An hour later, we’re waiting for coffee and dessert. Kate has left the table. I’m thinking her bladder must have been seconds from rupturing for her to actually leave me alone with Anderson.
He observes me for a moment and then says, “I like what I’ve seen here tonight, Drew. Very impressive.”
“Thanks, Saul.”
In business, always use first names. It’s not disrespectful. It shows that you’re an equal—in the same league. That’s huge.
“And based on what you’ve shown me, I’m ready to give Evans, Reinhart and Fisher my business.”
Yes! Break out the champagne, baby.
“I’m pleased to hear that. I think this deal is going to be very profitable for both—that is, all of us.” Can’t forget Kate, right? As if she would let me. “You can put your complete confidence in Kate and me. We won’t let you down.”
He fingers his crystal glass. “Right. About that. Before I sign, I have only one contingency.”
This kind of thing happens all the time. Not a big deal.
“Go ahead, Saul. I’m sure we can provide whatever you need.”
“I’m happy to hear that. So, why don’t you have that darling girl of yours—Kate—bring the contracts by my place tonight, around midnight.” He hands me a business card, and I feel like there’s a boulder in my stomach.
Can you feel it too?
“Here’s where I’m staying. You have her bring the papers…alone.”
You know on TV when there’s one of those awkward, shocking moments and all you hear are the crickets in the background?
Well chirp-fucking-chirp. This is one of those moments.
“I’m not sure I…”
