Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“I refuse,” Sam apprised me, stomping up the stairs. “If I’m showering for this, I wear what I want.”
“Yes, dear,” I called after him.
Kola was laughing.
“What?”
“You guys are relationship goals all the way.”
“Awww,” I said, bending to kiss his forehead.
“Can you make me the furikake popcorn before you go? I always mess up the butter, and mine turns out soggy.”
“The trick is that you want the furikake to stick but not to saturate.”
“Yeah, I know,” he agreed. “I’ll watch you do it. Again.”
For some reason, he called his sister on FaceTime so she could watch as well.
“Oh, I always mess this up,” she said, and I could tell she was in the passenger seat and also very interested.
“Make him show you exactly how much butter goes in,” Jake told her. “Mine always comes out gross.”
Apparently my furikake popcorn was a hit.
Sam came down twenty minutes later, which was an amount of time to get ready to go out that I could have never met, in chinos, a gray shawl-collar sweater over a white T-shirt, with a brown tweed blazer over that. The white pocket square was a charming touch.
“Oh, Dad, you look nice.”
It wasn’t a suit, but he looked amazing, and it was forty-three degrees at the moment, dropping down to the low thirties later. I was probably making a mistake myself not wearing a sweater. My suit jacket would only do so much.
“We ready to begin this horror show?” my husband asked me.
“Could you please be a bit more upbeat about this?”
“I don’t need any more friends, I have enough,” he told me.
“Same,” Kola agreed.
I rolled my eyes at both of them. “Let’s go,” I ordered my husband.
Having spared no expense, the event was held at Cafe Brauer in Lincoln Park, and as we walked in, and Aja had to hand the man four tickets, I told her we would pay her back, she just needed to tell me how much it was.
“Are you kidding?” she asked me. “I’m lucky I got Sam Kage here at all.”
That was true.
Aja looked stunning as usual. She was in a deep red long-sleeved dress with an asymmetric neckline and a choker of rubies and diamonds straight out of Pretty Woman. Her date wore a black velvet tuxedo jacket, a black dress shirt, a white pocket square, and black dress pants. He looked like he’d walked off the cover of a magazine, as usual. Sam had gone a bit more casual than me; I was in my navy slim-fit Hugo Boss suit. No tie, white dress shirt. What was interesting was that most of the men looked more like Sam, whereas all the women were dressed to the nines like Aja.
“This reminds me of Jake and Hannah earlier,” I mentioned as we walked in and were all offered a glass of champagne that both Dane and Sam turned down.
“What happened?” Aja asked me as we clinked our glasses together and Sam and Dane headed for the bar to get Dane’s dirty martini and Sam’s old-fashioned.
I told her all about what Hannah was wearing and what Jake showed up in, and we both had a good laugh.
Issa was lovely, so appreciative that we’d come for support, and even though Colin was, at the moment, standing with Dane and Sam—Issa had seen Dane and walked him right over—he wasn’t talking, just listening.
It was less of a find-a-friend mixer than it was a party to network. And while that was fine, I was pretty sure that a book club or a running club or a cooking club would be a better bet for Issa and Colin.
I was walking around, saying hello to some people that I knew and was surprised to find there. Aja was chatting with people she knew, when my arm was taken hold of. Turning, I found Roland Epps, a client of mine.
“Mr. Epps,” I greeted him, smiling. “How are you, sir?”
“Please, Jory, call me Roland. I’ve told you a hundred times.”
“Roland,” I repeated. “How was the wedding?”
He groaned. “Forty thousand dollars for one day that could have gone for a down payment on a house,” he told me.
I chuckled. “But it was the fairy tale your daughter wanted, I’m sure.”
“But orchids, Jory, for every guest. I mean, really. And do you know how hard it is to keep an orchid alive?”
I grimaced. “I do actually, and I have never had too much luck with them.”
He chuckled, and a man joined us, younger, maybe in his thirties, handsome. “Oh, Jory, this is Aiden Bernard. Aiden, this is my graphic art and brand designer, Jory Harcourt.”
“Pleasure,” he said, taking hold of my hand. “Are you here trolling for new friends as well, Jory?”
“I’m here in support of a friend,” I told him. “He’s in computer programming. What is it you do, Aiden?”
“I’m a software developer and looking for capital for a start-up and people to join my team, so please, lead me to your friend.”