Trevor
“You and Shana Price?” Max says with a shit-eating grin as he smiles at me over his glass of bourbon. “I guess that means you won the bet, her being one of the models and all. Hell, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her.”
“You really didn’t?”
“No, not until later. I think it’s that thing where someone is out of context. I wasn’t expecting to see her here, much less onstage wearing a negligee.”
My mind goes back to that moment. I understand what he means. I was flabbergasted and shocked all at once when I realized it was her. Then again, I think she was the most beautiful woman on the stage. I’m surprised that every man’s vision didn’t immediately gravitate to her.
“So how much do I owe you?”
I wave my hand. “No one won, and meeting up again with Shana had nothing to do with a bet.”
“Fair is fair,” he says.
“We all chipped in. Everything is even. Besides, the gamble would have been less if we’d just have stayed at my apartment as I suggested in the first place.”
“Your apartment used to be Eric’s too, and that’s not exactly bachelor-party excitement. And...” Max’s voice trails a bit. “…two bedrooms and four men. That scenario only works with a different crowd.” He leans back against the bar and surveys the room. “Not that I’m on the hunt for that crowd.”
I’m not exactly sure what he means, and I don’t know if I want to know. Before I can respond, he speaks again.
“She’s a fiery one.”
His assessment of Shana makes me smile. “What can I say? I like to be burned.”
“Well, that little tirade she gave me the other night...you’ll be in for worse from Stephen if you hurt her.”
“Apparently, according to my brother, Stephen would need to stand in line. My sister-in-law will also kick my ass.”
Max shakes his head. “Man, you’re on a hit list.”
“Only if my intention is to hurt Shana, and it’s not.”
Max shrugs as he turns back toward the bar and reaches for his glass of bourbon. After swishing the contents for what seems like too long, he mumbles something about intentions and how they can be misconstrued.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m no expert at relationships, but all that bullshit people spew about communication…there might be something to it.”
“Umm. Okay. Hey, I’m not trying to change the subject,” I say, doing exactly the opposite of what I said.
“Yes, you are. Go ahead.”
“I was surprised when your firm said you were still the contact here in the city. I thought you were leaving after the bachelor party.”
“That had been my plan. But you’re right. I’m not here as a friend but as an investment specialist. I almost forgot this is a business meeting.” He looks at his watch. “Now, what was it you wanted to discuss?”
I pull out my iPad and bring it to life. “This proposal has been out to...”
While I feel a little guilty talking to Max without letting Shana or Stephen know that he’s still in town, this really is a business meeting. When I contacted Max’s firm to question what was happening with a proposal I’d generated, I never expected to see Max.
I’d said goodbye to him, Matt, and Eric on the Sunday morning after the party.
We’d managed to keep Shana’s little blowup away from Eric. Through it all, the groom-to-be seemed to have a good time. Less than a month to go and he’ll officially be a married man. The wedding is a destination thing with an exclusive guest list of his and Cynthia’s family. Last weekend was our time for his friends to be together to send him into the world of matrimony with memories.
Now that Shana and I are kind of together, I’m not too sad about missing the wedding.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Max and Stephen have history. And even though neither Max nor Stephen has given me any information, I’ve managed to get a little bit here and there from Shana. In a nutshell, she thinks that one of my good friends is worse than pond scum. She mentioned something about fungi below the depths.
For that reason, inviting her to Eric’s wedding where Max would be if it weren’t a small family wedding would probably not be a good idea. Oh, and then there’s the whole thing about my taking Cynthia to Duncan’s wedding. Yes, the bachelor party was our friend send-off for Eric to the world of married bliss.
Though my information regarding Max and Stephen is mostly self-generated, it isn’t difficult to connect the dots. Shana and Stephen have been living in London. Max lives in London. The chances of their paths crossing in a city as big as London is probably statistically similar to the chances of their paths crossing in New York City—given the variant and taking subcategories into consideration.
Their connection skews the median results.
It happened.
In both cities.
As we’re about to leave the bar, I realize why I’m surprised Max is still in town. “You’ve been in the city all week and haven’t stayed at my place? Eric has moved out. He’s now with Cynthia. I still have the extra bedroom.”
Max’s hand lands on my shoulder. “No, I haven’t. After Saturday night, I figured you were probably busy, you know...” he says with a grin, “getting burned.”
I was. I am.
“Still, friends are always welcome...”
“Trust me, I’ve been busy too.”
“Are you heading back to London soon?”
“The flights are a mess right now. The royal wedding has caused ticket prices to soar. Since my plans changed, rebooking will nearly take selling the royal jewels. When I negotiated my itinerary change, I told my firm that I’d stay here and take care of a few matters we have pending. In the long run, I’m saving them money. I’m sure they’ll remember that when it comes to bonus time.”
“You have my number,” I say, “if you need anything or if you hear about the proposal.”
“I do. I’m going to be out of the city...” Max looks at his watch again. “...as a matter of fact, I need to get to the train station. I have a four o’clock. I’ll be back on Monday and let you know what I hear—if I hear.”
“Thanks. I appreciate knowing I have someone on the inside.”
Max’s expression stays the same, yet his eyes cloud in a way that makes the enthusiasm I felt while explaining my proposal disappear. “Hey,” I say, “I understand, there’s a limit to friendship.”
“No. The limit’s not on the friendship. I’ll do what I can. The limit is on my influence over other people’s decisions. Investment is a slippery slope. I know McCobb Engineering is worth it. I’ve seen your work and dedication. All I can do is make the proposal. Pushing too hard isn’t in anyone’s best interest.”
“Only shear...but pulling, that’s tensile.” I place my glass on the bar and look for some acknowledgment of my comedy. When I don’t see any, I explain, “Pushing and pulling…engineering humor.”
Max shakes his head. “I hope you wooed Shana with something other than your stand-up comedy.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, she’s fallen for my singing.”
“You sing?”
“Only in the shower.”
Max shakes his head as his phone and mine buzz at the same time.
“Thanks again, Max,” I say as I look down. “Please keep me posted.”
Shana: “I’M FREE FOR THE ENTIRE WEEKEND. PLEASE TELL ME YOU CAN TAKE MY MIND OFF SAKS UNTIL MONDAY MORNING.”
Me: “OH, MY LADY, I HAVE A CONCERT PLANNED.”
Shana: “A CONCERT? WHAT BAND?”
Me: “IT’S A PRIVATE SHOW. VERY INTIMATE.”
Shana: “WHAT CLOTHES SHOULD I PACK?”
Me: “NOT NECESSARY. NUDE VENUE.” (Smile emoji)
Shana: “THEN I’M PACKED!” (Blushing smile emoji)