“How’s the steak?” Chelsea throws herself down into the seat in front of me.

“Stop it with the steak analogy. I’m trying to imagine him more like liver.” I finish typing an email to the company doing our favors for the gala and give her my attention.

“Maybe just gouge your eyes out so you don’t have to see him anymore?”

“I’ll have to try that. Thanks for the suggestion.” I dismiss her by looking back at my computer screen.

“Jeez, I was about to tell you about a date I went on last night.”

Now she has my attention.

“Mid-week?” She nods, and I wonder what kind of guy was worth her time during the week. Chelsea is fanatical about her schedule during the week. Every day after work, she goes to work out, heads home, makes dinner and then binge watches Netflix while she probably color codes her panty drawer.

“Yeah, but sadly I totally missed the signs.” She digs into her bag and retrieves her phone, pulling up a picture and shoving the phone in my face. “Check out his profile.”

“Whoa. Talk about steak dinner. He’s aged to perfection.”

“Yeah and he’s a model.”

“Jeez, Chels, a model?” I enlarge the picture. “His abs look like they were drawn on.” I take in the fine specimen for another second. “Don’t you find it weird that he’s not wearing a shirt?”

She grabs the phone from my clasp. “He was supposed to be on a beach.”

“Still, why would you choose that picture?”

“Vic, the lack of shirt isn’t the problem.”

I wait for her to fill me in.

“It’s the fact that when I showed up at the restaurant, this was him.” She shoves the phone back in my face where a picture of an average looking guy is on the screen, not nearly as well groomed as the previous man. I’m thankful that he’s chosen to wear a shirt to cover up his beer gut.

I purse my lips to try to stop my smile that’s tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Oh, man.”

“Yeah. He told me he thought I knew the picture was a joke because the guy is some famous model.”

“Who?”

“I Google image searched the picture and it’s a model for a sunscreen company. It’s not like we’re talking Gandy or Tyson here. How was I supposed to know?” She stares at the photo again.

“How did you handle it?” I cringe, wondering how harsh Chelsea got.

“At first, I just left, but once I got outside, I composed myself and decided that after I went to all the trouble of getting ready and taking a cab there, this guy is going to pay for me to eat at Alinea.”

“Alinea says something positive about him, don’t you think?” You’re not getting out of there for less than a few hundred dollars a plate.

She nods. “I guess. He might not have washboard abs, but he can swim in a pool of hundreds.”

“So?”

“So, nothing.” She shrugs. “He was a nice guy. Polite, listened to me ramble on about my cousin’s upcoming wedding. I even broke the cardinal rule and talked about my ex. Which was probably good because he didn’t even try to kiss me after.” She looks as confused as she sounds. “It was a weird night but I’m thinking that’s what I need.”

“To catfish someone?” I chuckle.

“No! I need to date only nice guys. Exclusively nice guys who aren’t all about themselves and how much pussy they can get.”

“You’re going to narrow it down to one flavor?”

“Yes, vanilla. But there are still variations within vanilla. You can have homemade vanilla, natural vanilla, French vanilla, vanilla bean...”

I smile while she tucks her phone back into her purse. “Don’t. You know me. I’ll probably go on two vanilla dates before I crave that chocolate covered ganache bad boy again.” She stands up. “Come on. Hannah said the car is pulling up in a few minutes.”

Just then the office phone chimes and I recognize Hannah’s cell.

I pick up the phone. “On our way down.”

Chelsea waits at the door while I pack up my stuff quickly and lock up behind us. A few minutes later, we climb into a limo to make our way up north to try and secure the gala location.

---

Three hours later the contract is signed and we’re on our way back to the city.

Hannah lays her head against the back of the seat. “Thank goodness that’s over.”

“Yeah, and your ex can shove it up his ass because this venue is so much better.” Leave it to Chelsea to bring up a touchy subject.

Hannah nods but doesn’t say anything. After a few minutes, she sits up and presses the button on the partition. “Jacob, can you drop us off at the corner of State and Madison?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He nods, and Hannah leaves the partition down.

“Victoria, is your mom okay to watch Jade tonight?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure when we’d get back, so I already made arrangements.”

“Great. Girls, we’re going out for happy hour tonight.” She toes out of her heels and rubs her perfectly manicured toes against one another. No surprise since she wears fuck me pumps all day every day. Those things must hurt like a bitch.

“Don’t worry, Hannah, I’m free.”

Hannah glances to her side at Chelsea with a smile teasing her lips. “We both know you have your weeknight ritual and you didn’t already have plans. Besides, there will be guys where we’re going, and they’ll be rich.”

Chelsea pretends to rub her hands together and then drops them unexpectedly. “Rich doesn’t always mean hot.”

“Rich guys are their own breed of bad but not in the way you like them.” Hannah winks at her with a smile. “I want girl’s time anyway. We need to unwind. We’ve never been out together socially before.”

The idea is great, I love both the ladies I work with and a little adult time with the girls sounds perfect.

A while later the limo pulls up to the curb, stops and we step out. There’s no bar in sight.

Once the limo pulls away, Hannah slides in between us and links both her arms through ours and we walk in the opposite direction like Laverne and Shirley with a sidekick. A few seconds later she leads us down an alley.

“Not really in the mood to get mugged tonight.” Chelsea slows her steps which makes all of us slow down.

“There are cameras watching the alley and there’s always someone’s watching those cameras.” She pulls us farther down the alleyway. “This is the safest alley you’ve ever been down.”

When we reach a plain looking, worn black door she unhooks herself from us and knocks four times. I wait for the small window section to slide across, so someone can peer down at us and ask us the password, but disappointedly, that doesn’t happen. Movies make everything look so cool.

Instead, a large man with a barrel chest opens the door from the other side. “Ms. Crowley,” he says to Hannah.

“How are you doing tonight, Sam?”

He nods. “Haven’t seen you awhile. I was worried.”

Hannah shakes her head like she understands his line of thinking. “Uh uh. Never. I got this in the divorce.” She winks.

He tips his head and smiles.

“These are my two friends.” she turns and gestures to where we stand behind her. “Victoria and Chelsea.”

He nods. “Pleasure ladies. And I have to tell you this…don’t go telling anyone about this place, otherwise you’ll see this face on the other side of your door at home.”

“Point taken,” I say, wondering what kind of place Hannah’s bringing us to.

“Oh, and you can’t get in here without her.” He points to Hannah.

Chelsea slaps him on the shoulder. “No worries big guy.”

Sam looks over to Hannah and she giggles. Only Chelsea would do that to someone as physically imposing as this man. We enter and step through another door. The sound of clinking of glasses and chatter makes me more comfortable about our surroundings. At least I know Hannah didn’t draw us to this place to have us murdered.

We enter the bar area and are met with dark wood-paneled walls with a matching bar. The far wall is lined with red velvet booths while small pedestal tables are strategically placed around the room with fabric backed chairs.

“Did we just warp back to the forties?” Chelsea asks.

“I love it,” I say.

Hannah swings her arm through mine. “This place is called Torrios Table because Torrio—”

“Was the one who got Capone into the mob,” I finish for her.

“Yep. See how smart you are? Once you get that degree you’re going to leave me.” She pretends to pout, and I smile in return. I’ve never seen this fun side of her before.

“Let me get my degree first then we can worry about what I’m doing. As it is I’m the oldest person ever enrolled in college.”

She leads us to one of the booths and slides herself in until she’s in the middle, so Chelsea and I take a spot on either side of her.

“No, you’re not, and just think of all the younger men you have at your disposal this time around.” She grins.

“You want her to go cub hunting?” Chelsea picks up and glances over a small menu on the table.

“I’m not old enough to be a cougar.” I lower my voice. “The thought of dating a younger guy who knows nothing about women, does nothing for me. He wouldn’t even know his way around a woman’s vagina, let alone how to get me off.”

Chelsea raises her hand in the air as if to signal ‘victory!’

“I knew you were just being nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I lean forward and smack one of her hands down from across the table.

“It means…I knew there was a smart-ass hidden in there.”

Hannah smiles. “I agree with Victoria. Next go around I want a man who can take care of my needs. That knows his way around a woman’s body as well as he does the sports channels on television.”

We all nod in agreement.

“And I don’t care how many partners he’s had because I say the more women, the more skills he learned from them. As long as he can be faithful, we’d be good.” Hannah raises her hand to get the waiter’s attention although I’m certain he noticed her when she came in. Hannah is hard not to notice.

“Ms. Crowley, so nice to see you again.” He bows down. “Good evening, ladies. May I suggest a bottle of Chardonnay?”

Hannah shoots him a tight smile. “Not tonight.” She looks from one side of the table at Chelsea to the other at me. “Three Vespers.”

He tries not to act surprised, but I see the emotion register on his features for a split second. “I’ll be right back.”

As we wait for the waiter to fetch our drinks, I soak up the rich atmosphere. The room is filled with mostly men, men in suits. Men like Reed. Probably lawyers or some other equally untrustworthy profession where they take advantage and rip people off. Married men probably come here to unwind, leaving their wives alone. Whoa, Earth to Victoria.

The waiter brings over our Vespers and we’re each a vision of poised sophistication as we slowly bring the glass to our lips and swallow a small sip, when what I really want is to pour it down my throat I’m so thirsty. Not to mention the buzz will help tremendously to push away all thoughts of He-who-shall-not-be-named.

“You know I have to ask. How did you get in here?” Chelsea leans forward.

“Family. My dad’s been a member since he was of age and his father before him. It’s changed hands a few times, but what doesn’t change is that money speaks.”

One thing I admire about Hannah is that for all her class and grace, she doesn’t come off like she thinks she’s better than you and doesn’t look down on people who aren’t in her tax bracket, but at the same time she keeps it real. I wonder if she was always that way or if her divorce changed her? Divorces have a way of changing everyone.

“Nice. Man, to be you.” Chelsea brings her glass to her lips with a small shake of her head.

Hannah doesn’t say anything and sometimes I think Chelsea needs reality glasses because she believes she wants things without truly knowing what that will bring her in her life. She wants a bad boy with a heart of gold, but hearts of gold don’t mean they’ll respect her. She wants Hannah’s life, but I’m fairly sure Hannah went through hell in her divorce. My mom welcomed me with open arms after my divorce, but I’m not sure her family did.

Hannah’s hand suddenly comes down between Chelsea and I on the table with a hard smack. I grab my glass before it tips over. “I can’t believe they’re letting that piece of shit in here.”

Chelsea and I follow her gaze to a table in the front-right corner. A man in a sharp suit fit to perfection and salt and pepper hair sits with two other men. He seems to be doing the majority of the talking in their threesome, the other two men nodding their heads like he’s their professor lecturing.

“Which one?” Chelsea asks. “The gray-haired one?”

“I’m not sure I’d call it gray,” I say. “It’s more that sexy, distinguished shade.”

I’m not sure what Chelsea sees but if Hannah’s looking for a guy who can map out a woman’s erogenous zones, that’s him. He stands, still talking to the men. They laugh and it’s clear it’s not forced, that whatever he said was truly funny. Turning around he walks to the bar, slides his empty glass to the bartender and orders another one.

Our eyes remain glued to him with varying degrees of emotion. I’m intrigued because I’m not sure I’d ever consider a guy with salt and pepper hair at my age, but I’m sure he’d teach me a thing or two with five minutes in the stall of the women’s room. A quick glance across the table and I see that Chelsea’s eyes are narrowed like she’s trying to figure something out. Hannah’s are on fire, as if she could incinerate him on the spot.

He taps his fingers on the bar to the rhythm of the soft music coming through the speakers. The expensive silver watch adorned on his wrist jiggles lightly with the movement. Just as I’m about to examine the rest of him, his head turns in our direction and his gaze sweeps over us and then doubles back. The guy cocks an arrogant smile and strolls around the bar to our table.

“Shit, we’ve been spotted,” Chelsea murmurs. We both put our heads in our drinks while Hannah, well, Hannah keeps her punishing eyes on him.

“He’s coming over,” I whisper like I’m thirteen and the hot mystery guy at the mall is approaching.

The scent of his expensive cologne hits my nose as he reaches the end of our table. “I must not have done a good enough job if you can still afford this place.” He’s speaking directly to Hannah, looking straight ahead at her as if Chelsea and I don’t exist.

“I thought they had standards at this place.” Hannah slowly looks him over and I give her credit, she doesn’t pause or stutter, and manages to keep a look of disgust on her face.

He rocks back on a laugh, his tongue slowly sliding over his lips. “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Crowley. Snarky as always.” There’s an air to his tone. Playful and flirtatious and it makes it hard not to stare up at him in adoration. This man isn’t just a panty melter he’s a panty incinerator.

“Sorry, I can’t say the same.” Hannah brings the glass to her lips, sipping it and letting her fingers run up and down the stem.

My gaze shifts across the table to Chelsea who seems just as enthralled in their banter as I am.

“Oh, come on. I had a job to do, surely you understand that.”

Her fingers continually slide up and down the glass stem, her eyes fixated on him. “If I wasn’t with my employees I’d have a few choice words for you.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Chelsea spits out and then instantly looks chagrined. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” she whispers to me.

“Listen to the girl. Don’t hold back. That is, as long as you can handle the same in return.” Without invitation, he sits next to Chelsea and her blue eyes widen in my direction as she slides closer to Hannah at the back of the booth. We’re like two scared kids whose parents are going at it.

My phone rings in my purse and all heads turn my way.

“I’m sorry.” I fumble to find the phone.

Meanwhile, Hannah leans forward and unleashes a string of curse words and name calling but I could never put them all together. By the time I silence my phone, seeing it’s my jackass of an ex, Hannah’s leaned back in her seat, legs crossed, sipping her drink as though everything is normal.

My gaze shoots to the man who’s still wearing the cocky smirk he’s had on since he arrived at the table. “Let me buy you ladies the next round. After all, I get paid pretty well when I win.” He winks at Hannah and she narrows her eyes to slits but says nothing.

He stands and saunters away as if he wasn’t just told to stuff it in a room full of people.

“Go after him and give him a piece of your mind,” Chelsea says. “What an asshole.”

Hannah’s gaze stays on him at the bar. We watch him point to us, the bartender’s attention turning our way.

“He’s not worth it,” Hannah says, back to her collected self.

“From the heat that just filled this entire booth, I’m not sure about that,” I say. “Who is he?”

Hannah’s eyes don’t leave his. “Roarke Baldwin. My ex’s divorce attorney.”