Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Jenny laughs. “What? How?”
“The thing just shattered. It was almost like a poltergeist scene from a horror movie. There was glass everywhere. He panicked. Like, a full-on spiral. He kept on apologizing and trying to clean it up, while naked… and bleeding slightly.”
“You didn’t try to help?” I ask, shaking my head in wonder.
“No, I absolutely did not,” Olivia denies indignantly. “I sat on the bed and watched him hop around like a wounded gazelle.”
“That’s cold. I like it,” Serena approves.
“It gets better,” Olivia continues. “He insisted on putting a plaster on his toe. Very tenderly. With lots of eye contact. I thought he was going to ask me to kiss it better at one point. And then …”
“And then what?” Jenny prompts impatiently.
“The fool tried to have sex with me… with the plaster still on.”
The table explodes into laughter loud enough for a few heads to turn in our direction.
“This is why I’m done with men,” Jenny declares, wheezing with laughter.
“Same,” Serena says. “Honestly, same.”
Jenny drops her eyebrows disbelievingly. “You say that all of the time.”
“Ok,” Serena amends. “Temporarily same.”
Olivia shrugs. “Anyway, it was … fine. The sex was fine. Not life-changing by any means, but not terrible.”
“Wait, you went through with it after all that?” Jenny exclaims.
Olivia nods sheepishly. “But that’s why I’m off men for now. That, and the fact that every time I see a first aid kit, I feel weird.”
I wipe my eyes, still laughing. “Thank you for that gift. Truly.”
Jenny turns to me, her grin sharpening like a wolf’s. “Speaking of men. Or, rather, the lack of. What’s up with that, Miss Jo-Anne Louise Button?”
Here it comes. I stop laughing real quick. “Oh, let’s not go there, please.”
“Oh yes, we are absolutely going there,” she yells. “How long has it been now? Three months? Four?”
“Five,” Serena supplies helpfully.
I glare at her. “Thanks for that.”
Serena shrugs. “I respect the truth.”
Jenny leans closer. “Five months without sex is not a choice, Jo. It’s a freaking cry for help.”
“It is totally a choice,” I protest. “I am off men. Completely. Entirely. Permanently. For the foreseeable future.”
Olivia studies me. “You say that like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
“I am at peace,” I insist. “I am thriving. I am celibate and powerful. I want to focus on my work right now.”
Jenny snorts. “Liar. You’re horny, but stubborn.”
“I’m telling you, I’m focusing on work right now,” I maintain primly. “Right now, I’m restoring a Titian masterpiece that was over-cleaned in the eighties. The original glaze has been stripped off in some places, and I’m trying to coax warmth back into the flesh tones using pigments and brushwork that Titian would have approved of. So, I do not have time for mediocre sex with emotionally unavailable men.”
Serena lifts her glass. “Honestly?”
I nod calmly.
And Jenny sighs dramatically. “It’s such a shame. You could have anyone.”
I roll my eyes, but before I can open my mouth and retort, my cell phone vibrates on the table. Glancing down, I see that it is an unknown number with an international code.
“Ugh,” Jenny says. “Just ignore it. If it’s important, they’ll text you.”
I hesitate. She’s probably right, but the phone keeps buzzing insistently, and something tells me I should take the call.
“I’ll just quickly check,” I say, sliding out of the booth. “It could be a potential client.”
“Or a scam,” Jenny shouts.
“Tell them we’re not interested in timeshares,” Serena calls after me. “Or Nigerian Princes. Or getting rid of the fake virus from your computer.”
I cross the bar, shaking my head and laughing to myself. I open the heavy door and slip outside. The noise drops off sharply as I step into the cold night air, and I can feel it sobering me up instantly. I suddenly wish my top had sleeves. The bar’s door thumps shut behind me, muffling the music to a faint thud.
I try to ignore the cold as I hit the accept button on my phone.
Chapter
Two
JO
“Hello?”
“Miss Jo-Anne Louise Button?” It’s a man’s voice, calm, professional, and with a strong American accent.
“Yes?” I confirm, slightly intrigued. I can now rule out the Nigerian Prince.
“My name is Gavin Hampstead, and I’m a solicitor based in New York.”
But definitely a scam, and it’s too cold to be hanging out here chatting with scammers. “I think you have the wrong number. Goodbye.”
“No, I don’t.” he comes back quickly. “I’m calling regarding your father.”
That lands like a punch, and for a couple of seconds, I freeze with shock. Then fury takes over. Scammers really don’t care who they hurt. All my life, I’ve desperately wanted a father, but never had one, and this guy is using that painful fact to try to con me. My voice is frosty. “My father? I don’t have a father, Mr. Hampstead. What is this really about?”
There’s a pause, but it’s not awkward or slimy, even though it should be. It’s measured and calm. And as much as I tell myself to end the call, that it’s just a scam, somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s a scam.