I resisted the urge to press snooze. Three hours of sleep was all I’d gotten thanks to Bianca’s late-night call. I wasn’t exactly sorry, even though it was gonna be a long ass day. Talking to her made me feel like a hell of a lot better man than I actually was. I wanted to soak up all her sweet innocence.

Listening to her talk about how great Todd was – yeah, I knew his name – made me hate him even more. Todd was the kind of guy that breezed through life getting everything handed to him. He walked the yellow, brick fucking road to Oz while the rest of us clawed our way for every scrap of success. I sensed that Bianca and I had that in common. What she wanted with a tool like Todd was beyond me.

After I’d dressed in gym shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt and pulled on my socks and sneakers, I decided to hit the pavement instead of the hotel gym. Cold air burned my lungs as I breathed in the crisp, early morning Connecticut air, shocking my tired limbs awake.

As it always did, my brain turned off and my body took over. Exercising, running in particular, was an outlet. While my muscles did the work, my brain relaxed. I was at peace here.

It’s not to say I didn’t think at all, but instead of the usual clutter – the memories, the to-do list that stayed front and center reminding me what had to be done, and the sense of urgency to stay one step ahead of whatever ghosts lurked – it all became white noise.

When I ran, my brain functioned in snapshots – fleeting images that even when not pleasant, were gone before they could cause any real damage.

Fleeting images.

The report I’d finished for Mr. Sterling.

A picture-perfect family smiling from the front of their beach house.

The steak and vegetables I’d had for dinner last night.

Bianca in her ugly flower dress hunched over a magazine.

Bianca’s fiery expression as she’d stood in that lacy, black bra.

Bianca pulling her bottom lip behind her teeth as I told her my thoughts on Todd.

I’d turned on to College Street and was passing the university buildings before I’d realized I’d run directly where my brain was wandering. Toward Bianca.

She hadn’t called me from a sorority or dorm room, so I waved off the notion that she lived in campus housing, but knowing she’d walked these same streets made me really stop and think about Bianca and what her life was like here.

I slowed as I passed the courtyard. It was too early and too cold to be filled with students, but I could picture it. Bianca and I might have some things in common, but the simple fact that she fit in here, at a friggin’ ivy league school, divided us in a way that had me resenting my life all over again.

Turning around, I picked up the pace, running back to the hotel until my legs and chest ached.

Stifling a yawn, the nagging reminder of Bianca stayed with me while I listened to Allen Sterling lavish his fifth wife over lunch. Still tanned from a recent trip to Barcelona, they were very much in the honeymoon stage. The only stage Allen seemed capable of.

In his mid-fifties, Allen had been born into money and a company that he tirelessly needed backing out of trouble. I guess I shouldn’t complain since he kept me in a job, but from someone who had pushed their own luck pretty damn far, Allen was borderline insane with how he risked his company and money by marrying women half his age without a prenup. Even without a law degree, I knew that was a risky move. Even more volatile, he paraded each one into his company directly by making them his assistant. What made a man so insecure that he needed to stay tied down and keep his wives with him twenty-four-seven?

“What about you Court, do you have a girlfriend back in the city?”

I shook my head in answer to his question and to the idea that I’d tell him shit about my life even if I did. “No, no girlfriend.”

“Smart man,” Allen said and received a playful swat from his newest wife. Margaret was a curvy, bottle blonde. I didn’t know what kind of life she’d been living before she’d sold her soul to become Mrs. Sterling, but I wondered if she’d still think it was worth it in six months or a year when he kicked her out for a younger model.

“But seriously, a successful young man living in New York should have women lined up. You’re not batting for the other team, are you?”

Brushing off his less than tactful insult to an entire population of gay men, I answered as vaguely as possible. “I guess I just haven’t slowed down enough to meet the right woman.”

I wasn’t about to get into my preference of casual relationships with a serial monogamist and a client, least of all Allen Sterling.

Margaret perked up. “Ooooh, you know Isla is single and –”

Lifting a hand, I cut her off before she could go any further. “I appreciate it, but I’m not interested in dating right now.”

Sometime over the past decade, I’d become a man that couldn’t just be single without a barrage of questions or setup attempts. Being a single thirty-four-year-old man was no longer socially acceptable. With only a slight pout of her lips, Margaret nodded and sat back into her seat as Allen dove back into business.

Margaret looked as dissatisfied with the change in conversation as I felt relieved.

“You’re coming back next month,” he stated rather than asked but I nodded in confirmation anyway.

“Yeah, I’ll be back to do a comparison and make sure everything is moving in the right direction.”

“The end of the month?” Margaret sat forward. “You simply must attend our reception at the Omni.” She placed her elbows on the table and without pausing or giving me a second to respond added, “We won’t hear of you not attending.”

With a chuckle Allen pulled his bride closer. “Might as well agree. She usually gets what she wants one way or another.”

“I thought you two already had a reception,” I said by way of bypassing the invitation entirely.

“We did, but Margaret’s family in West Virginia wasn’t able to make it so we’re having another one now that her sister is out of rehab.”

Margaret’s face paled in shock as if she was horrified that Allen had given away so much. I wanted to tell her not to bother being appalled, the way she covered herself in designer labels and expensive jewelry like armor made it clear she’d come from a less than prim and proper upbringing.

“So, you’ll come?” she pleaded in a tone I’d wager she used to get her way with Allen.

I got her. We were more alike than she knew.

“I’d love to.”

As soon as the bill was paid, Allen and Margaret made their excuses and I caught a cab back to the airport.

Bianca’s first text came just as I’d started to doze off in the back of the taxi.

Bianca: Emergency! 911!

Without thinking I called her, more eager to hear her voice than I was worried. Bianca didn’t strike me as the dramatic type, but something told me I wasn’t the person she’d be calling for help if she was in real danger.

“Hi,” her breathy voice came through after the second ring.

“Are you all right?” We were pulling up to the airport and I cupped my free hand over the mic on my phone and instructed the taxi to the right airline stop.

“I’m sorry to bother you again.”

“Are you all right?” I asked again. I wanted to see her face, her surroundings, to get an idea of what the problem was.

“Yes. It’s just he asked me to hang out tonight. I mean it’s a bunch of people – a small party, but he asked me to come,” she said in a rushed whisper.

Words stuck in my throat. I wasn’t nearly as shocked by her news as I was disappointed that this douchebag had her so excited with an invite to a party. He really didn’t deserve her.

“Court? Are you there?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just getting to the airport. That’s fantastic. Congratulations 8B, you got exactly wat you wanted. Looks like you didn’t need my advice after all.”

“You’re leaving already?” the panic in her voice was more pronounced.

“Yeah, it was just a one-day trip.”

“But I need you.”

The thought of her needing me loosened a smile. “Finally decided Tom was a schmuck and decided to go for someone a little older and way better looking?”

“Be serious,” she screeched. “What am I gonna do?”

“I don’t understand the problem. I thought this is what you wanted?”

“It is, but –”

“But?” I prompted.

“What if I screw it up?”

“You’ll be fine. He wouldn’t have asked you out if he wasn’t interested. Men are straightforward that way.”

“It’s just… I don’t know how to just go hang. What do I wear? Do I show up on time or be fashionably late? Should I bring a friend with me?”

The exasperation and candor in her voice was authentic and charming. Todd had better not be fucking with her. I’d track his pretentious ass down if he hurt her. I didn’t make a habit of getting myself emotionally involved with people like this, so to say I had no clue where these protective thoughts were coming from was an understatement.

“Don’t overthink it.”

“Too late,” she muttered.

Adjusting my tie, I checked my watch before I asked, “What time did he tell you to show up?”

“Nine.”

“Seven hours is plenty of time,” I reassured her and shook my head. Anything was possible in seven hours. “Show me the options.”

“I was planning on wearing jeans. I think it’ll be pretty casual.”

“Show me,” I instructed.

“Like you want me to snap a picture of my jeans?”

“I want you to send me a picture of you in the jeans.”

“Oh, okay. Hold on,” she said.

The faint rustling of clothing being taken off and discarded was followed by silence. My free hand laid restlessly on my knee and I tapped my thumb. How long did it take to put on a pair of jeans and take a picture?

“Okay, I sent it,” she said breathlessly as a text alert pinged in my ear.

Pulling my phone away from my ear, I opened the message and inhaled. Letting the breath out slowly, I drank in her long, denim-clad legs. The picture cut off at her bare navel and dark jeans slung low on her hips and hugged them so tightly all I could think was how much I wanted to turn them inside out. The young girl I’d met in a frumpy, faded dress that hid her body and made her blend into the background was gone.

The taxi stopped in front of the American Airlines departure doors and I exited the car before I held the phone back to my ear.

“Are there other options?”

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised and then determined. “I knew those were no good. They’re so tight I can barely bend over.”

Fuck me, now I was picturing her bending over in those painted on denim jeans.

“You look great. I just want to see all the options. Shirts too. Something that shows just a bit of skin.”

“Alright, give me –”

“Actually, I just arrived at the airport, so I need to hang up. Text me the options.” I had nearly two hours until the plane boarded, but I needed to get off the phone before I said something stupid.

“Are you sure? My roommate is going to be home soon, I can ask her.”

“I’m sure. Send me the options.”

“Okay,” she said and let out a small huff like the feat of getting dressed was more than she could manage.

“You’re hot 8B. Stop stressing. Now get to work finding an outfit. There’s still hair and shoes to iron out.”