I order another Copper and suck that one down too.
But those heels of Nora’s—the sassy cheetah ones—they didn’t go with the rest of her understated-yet-expensive outfit. They were a little wild. Borderline inappropriate. My skin feels tight at the memory of how long they made her legs look. Don’t even get me started on the bright pink lipstick.
Trying to make sense of it—trying to reconcile the pretentiousness with the wildness—is driving me up the wall.
“Who is she?” My friend George, who we’ve called Porgeous for as long as I can remember, slides onto the barstool next to mine and nods at the empty glass in my hand. “And how many do I have to catch up on?”
I manage a grin, clasping his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Jury’s still out on how I feel about leaving Manhattan to move to Charlotte, but one big benefit is being closer to some of my college buddies. Porgeous and a few other guys who work on the trading floor at A&T (Ass & Titties to those of us with no class) rowed crew with me at Duke.
“Three. But it’s about to be four,” I reply, holding up my glass to the bartender.
Porgeous lets out a low whistle. “She must’ve done a number on you.”
“Our meeting did not go as planned.”
“Your meeting?” He looks at me. “You mean you already hooked up with someone at the office? Dude, you’ve been here for a day. Slow your roll or your dick will fall off, as my mother is so fond of saying.”
“Fond of saying to you. Has yours fallen off yet?”
Porgeous grabs the beer the bartender sets in front of him. He turns around to look at the woman sitting at the high-top. “Not yet, T. Not yet.”
“Y’all behave,” the bartender says when she turns back around, offering him a blinding smile before scooting to empty a dishwasher.
I shake my head. “How do you do it? You’re the cheesiest motherfucker on the planet.”
“I just told you, it’s my dick. As long as it stays attached to my body, I’m golden. Now tell me about what went down at this meeting. Or, really, who went down on who. Whom. Whatever the right pronoun is.”
“Who went down on whom.” I pick up my fresh beer and wish I were drunker. “There was no oral involved. But I did get into it with Nora Frasier.”
Porgeous nearly spits out his beer, his eyes going wide. “Shut the front door! My partner Nora? The slay-or-be-slayed High-Grade Corporate Queen? I knew something was up with her today! She was way too quiet.”
I drink and feel the throb in my temples lessen ever so slightly. “I wanna know who put the stick up her ass. She did not like me the second she walked into the room.”
“If I had to guess, you coming on board means you’re probably gonna steal the promotion she’s been after her entire career, so . . .”
My stomach twists. “That’s not my fault. And Aiden said—”
“Everyone’s fair game to get bumped up.” Porgeous rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know. Just like I know Nora was a shoo-in for MD until we hired you. How would you feel if the rug were pulled out from under you like that?”
“I’d feel like kicking my ass.”
“Exactly. So prepare for an ass kicking.”
“Where’s your money?”
Porgeous grimaces.
“Fuck you.” I stand up. “She’s that good?”
“She’s that good. So good she’s kinda intimidating, huh?”
My chest twists. I drink some more. “Not at all.”
“Bullshit,” Brooks says, striding into the dim bar with the stub of a pencil tucked behind his ear and a scowl on his face. “She scares the crap out of you, which is why you said the dumb things you did.”
“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” I say, cutting him a look. “And how’d you know—”
“About you putting your idiot foot in your idiot mouth? Easy. Nicky overheard y’all on his way back from a coffee run. Apparently Aiden raised his voice at one point?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I swear to Christ, banking’s worse than middle school when it comes to gossip.”
“I know. It’s great. I’m kind of addicted to Wall Street Bathroom’s feed,” Porgeous says.
Brooks nods. “Me too. Just wish I could figure out who was behind it.”
Porgeous shrugs and tips back his glass. “Wall Street’s a small place. A&T? It’s even smaller, and everyone knows everything about each other, especially when a duel’s involved.”
“I’ve got a grand on Nora,” Brooks says, accepting the Guinness the bartender wordlessly hands over with an even bigger smile than the one she gave Porgeous. I don’t get it, but women seem to find Brooks’s grumpiness irresistible. The man fucks.
“Shut up with that duel nonsense.” I crack my neck. “Y’all know betting against me is just stoking the fire, right? I’m real good at playing the dark horse.”