NICHOLAS

I’ve been trying to decide whether or not it makes me a stalker if I called that vet for Madison’s number.

“Nick.”

I glance up to my lunch meeting and frown. “Sorry, got distracted.”

“Oh yeah?” Dane leans back in a chair that should be more comfortable for these prices. “If the new Georgia tax laws aren’t enough to hold your interest, then how about those hips?”

I glance to a woman walking by our table, a beauty in her thirties with a bod made for that skirt. Without emotion I shrug and put my napkin back on the table, rising up. “She’s okay, listen, I have to make a phone call. I’ll be back before our food arrives.”

Dane waves me off while sipping his martini. “Fine, go.”

Breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, or coffee meetings with finance guys should come with a warning label: includes alcohol.

The collective belief is if we’re going to work sixteen-hour days, we deserve lubricants to strengthen morale. I’m not a huge drinker, but I join in for the social aspect because you’ve got to. However, with guys like Dane it’s tough. The more he drinks, the bigger an asshole he becomes.

“Those hips would haunt your dreams, Nick!” he calls after me, way too loudly for this fine establishment’s ears.

I flinch and keep walking, sliding my phone from my pocket and searching my call-list, frowning as my chest starts pounding.

“Sandy Springs Animal Hospital, Adam speaking, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, hey, my name is Nicholas Cocker. I uh…a friend of mine came in with a dog a couple weeks ago after a house fire we were in.”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry. Everyone okay?”

Blinking at the full restaurant from where I’m standing off to the side, I realize this is news to him, so he wasn’t working that night. Probably doesn’t do the graveyard shift if I’ve caught him there today at half-past-noon. I can’t remember the name of the woman I spoke with last time.

“Yeah, everyone’s good. Listen, I lost my phone and the girl’s number with it, the one who brought in the dog. She’s a friend of mine. Name is Madison. I’m the one who paid the bill. Just hoping you can pass her number along to me. I’m trying to reach her.”

He’s amiable. “Sure, no problem.”

Relieved, my lungs deflate. “Great.”

“What’s her last name?”

“Uh…”

Shit shit shit.

“I don’t know it, but hey, we don’t all know our friends’ last names, right?”

Silence on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, I can’t give out her number to you then.”

“Ah, come on, man. I’m just trying to check on the dog.”

“Yeah, but how do I know that?”

I blink and drag tense fingers through my hair. “Nah, you’re right. I wouldn’t give it to me either. Just between you and me though, this sucks.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Keep protecting the women. It’s the right thing to do.” Sighing I rub my face. “Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Hanging up, I rub my face again.

Frustration is an obsessive bitch.

She wasn’t at the last couple parties. And I can’t get her out of my head, and it’s been two weeks. That’s weird for me. A first.

Forcing my attention back to work I remind myself that Dane agreed to meet me for lunch, which is a good thing. Tolerate his sleaziness, focus on the task at hand—picking his brain for how he always seems to be ahead, no matter how volatile the Stock Exchange is.

Strolling back to the table, he doesn’t see me coming because he’s checking out a waitress from behind his martini, the look in his eyes disgusting.

As I sit down I reach for my whiskey. “How’s the wife?”

Dane smooths his tie with the hand that bears his wedding ring. “She’s perfect. As long as she’s out of town. Let me give you some advice, marry a woman who doesn’t care what you do when she’s not around. Makes it easier not to have to worry about repercussions.”

Our server’s eyebrow lifts as she sets filet mignon in front of Dane, and a roasted chicken with fingerling potatoes in front of me. “Would you like cracked pepper?”

I nod and she gives it a couple whirls until I lift my hand. “Thanks.”

“Bon appetit.” She glances to Dane before politely exiting.

“You planning on getting married someday, Nicholas?”

“Ask me in five years.” I stab a golden brown potato with my fork.

Slicing his steak, he smirks, “It’s a necessary evil if you want to procreate.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it, Dane.”

A throaty chuckle shakes him as he takes a bite. Chewing for a second, he’s quiet and I’m grateful. But it doesn’t last.

“We are men, Nicholas! I’m telling it like it is. Wives are necessary. Vows are for show. Nobody lives by them.”

I wash down the bile that’s traveling up my throat, set my whiskey back on the table as I firmly say, “In my family they do.”

“Your whole family?” he challenges with a gleam in his smarmy eyes. “All five hundred of them? I find it hard to believe nobody has ever fucked around. You’re kidding yourself.”

“It’s true.”

“That you know of.”

“I’m telling you, it’s true.”

“All happy marriages?”

I keep the family rumors about my cousin Ben to myself, because I secretly believe whatever trouble he may or may not be having with Shelby, he’ll get out of.

“Yep. Happy, all of them.”

“You’re kidding yourself. Human beings are flawed. I’m sure at least one—“

“Drop it, Dane, before things get ugly.”

Laughing, “You’re a funny guy. I like that,” he slices into rare steak and continues, unsolicited, “You can have as many women on the side as you want. I do. I have my wife, my mistress, my mistress’s friend. Buy them a bracelet, a pretty trinket, that’s all it takes to start the ball rolling. Do they know I’m married? Of course. They all do.”

As I’m chewing chicken I pause. “Why do you have to buy them a bracelet to get them to fuck you?”

“Women everywhere are just dying for someone else to pay their bills. All they have to do is pretend they like you, give you their pussies whenever you want, and soon their rent is covered—if they’re good enough and don’t cause a fuss.”

Wiping my fingers on the crisp, cloth napkin I lean back, muttering, “You’re making me lose my lunch.”

With his dirty steak knife he taps my plate. “It’s right there!”

He cracks up at his own joke and I grit my teeth, glancing to the exit. How easy it would be to get up and walk out of here.

I ask, “How’s your meal?” to change the subject.

He shrugs. “I had better last night.”

“Where’d you eat?”

“Who?”

My muscles tense, and I finish off my whiskey.

He’s smiling to himself, cutting another large bite. “Yeah yeah. So look.” He chews it, making me wait to hear what he wants to say. A big, dramatic swallow and drink of martini later and he finally drops the bomb, “I know why you invited me here. You want my secrets. Not about women. Clearly you think you’re too good for my advice on that subject. About money—you want to know how I do it. But why should I tell you?”

Sucking something out of my teeth I stare at him. “I made a mistake.”

He leans forward to hiss, “You young kids think you’re so hot, coming into my world and acting like you have a right to succeed. I breathe the market. I am the market. I can sense when she’s about to give up and make a run for it. I know when she’s gonna drop her panties, too. And she dropped ‘em for just me. You want my secrets? Here’s one. I just got a free meal.” He shoves a big chunk of filet mignon in his sneering mouth.

I take a drink of whiskey, pop a potato in my mouth and stand up. “Did I say I was buying?”

He stares at me, stops chewing.

On that note, I stroll out while whistling. Stopping at the host-stand I warn the manager. “That guy I was with? The one right there.” I point to him as Dane stares back at us. “Watch him. He likes to dine and dash. And he has two of your sterling silver forks in his computer case.”

Smirking to myself, I walk out.