She smiles wide, the little gap between her front teeth endearingly lovable. “Olivia already filled me in. This is gonna be fun!”
There’s one thing you need to know about Anna. She is freaking adorable. Five foot one with bouncy honey-colored waves and an infectious, happy attitude. Seriously, she’s the best. And I have a feeling that if I survive the next six months, she will be the number-one reason why.
Anna grabs her purse that’s slumped at the floor near her feet and pulls out a stack of DVDs.
When I see that they’re seasons one through six of the show The Millionaire Matchmaker, I let out a shriek of laughter.
“Oh my God. You didn’t.”
Anna beams. “Oh yes, I did. We’re going to learn from the best, baby.”
I’m about to break the news that I don’t have a DVD player when I suddenly remember that David’s stash of crap in the hall closet includes a gaming system that I’m pretty sure plays DVDs.
“One sec.” A few minutes later, I scurry back with the contraption. “Courtesy of David the Douche.”
“Ugh. Why haven’t you burned this stuff? Or better yet, sold it?” Anna groans.
“I have no idea.”
I plug the thing into the outlet near my flat-screen TV. This little black box used to be a huge point of contention in our relationship. He spent more time fiddling with this than he did with me, a point I refuse to dwell on right now. Tonight is about fresh starts and new beginnings. I’m going to be working with one of my best friends in the whole world, and if tonight is any indication, it’s going to be damn fun.
We share a pizza and a bottle of merlot, and only make it halfway through season one, but I already have a notepad filled with ideas.
“No sex before monogamy. Genius rule.” Anna bites off a hunk of pizza crust, nodding along with the mantra from the show’s host and our new girl-crush, Patty Stranger.
“Amen, sister.” I raise my wineglass in salute. “This lady is a genius.”
Even though this lesson isn’t for me, I’m picking up a lot of helpful tips too. For instance, did you know that a man wants a woman who is ladylike, polite, and respectful? It sounds old-fashioned, but apparently it’s true. I think it was Ludacris who said a lady in the street and a freak in the bed. So in addition to jotting down notes for my meeting with Sterling tomorrow, I write a few reminders for myself. Don’t call or chase after him excessively, and remember to say please and thank-you.
“I think I’m ready for tomorrow.” Surveying the notepad, I lean back and sink into the couch.
It’s filled with things like:
First-date kiss—acceptable.
No dick pics—ever. Not even when drunk. That should be another rule—no drunk texts.
No sex on the first or second dates. And that includes oral, mister! I’d like to see Sterling try to stick with that one.
“You’re going to kill it.” Anna nods.
“So, when do you start working with me officially?” I ask, setting the notebook aside.
“I’m all yours on Monday.”
I nod. “Cool. I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.”
After I walk her to the door, we share another hug.
“When are you meeting with Sterling?”
My gaze drifts to the wall behind her. “He asked me for dinner tomorrow night. At La Brasso.”
Anna frowns. “Hmm.”
“What?”
Shaking her head, she adjusts her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Nothing. That’s just a really romantic, intimate restaurant. I mean, I’ve heard, but I’ve never been there. Too rich for my blood.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t realize that.”
I have no idea why I said that, why I defended Sterling and downplayed it. The truth is, I have no idea why he asked me to dinner. We can handle all this through e-mail if we really want to.
Anna purses her lips, studying me, and then nods. “You’re right. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Awareness prickles at the back of my neck. “I’ll fill you in on everything. Talk soon.”
And then I’m standing there, tipsy and slightly confused, alone in my apartment.
It’s almost midnight, but I’m not tired. I grab the last slice of pizza and my laptop, and scurry off for my bed, slipping under the powder-soft duvet with a sigh.
With a mouthful of spicy pepperoni, I open my favorite social network and type in Sterling’s name.
His bright, magnetic smile beams back at me. Despite our close friends being married, he and I aren’t all that close. We’re acquaintances, at best. I’ve never friended him, and he’s never friended me. Which means my access to see his personal profile is limited. There are only a handful of pictures I can see.
Scanning through them, I decide this isn’t technically stalking since I’ve been hired to work on managing his personal affairs. There’s a shot of him and Noah, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders at a charity golf event last summer. One from Olivia and Noah’s wedding.
Damn, Sterling looked fucking sexy in that tux, but I already knew that. I wondered briefly at the wedding when he brought me a glass of champagne, and subtly flirted in that coy way he has, if we’d be the stereotypical maid of honor and best man who hooked up at our friend’s wedding. But it wasn’t to be. Sterling left early that evening, looking like there was something on his mind.