Daphne Vs. Daddy

With that she pats her hand on mine, smiles, and leaves the room.

What have I gotten myself into?

134

Alicia

"Girl, you wouldn't believe the day I've had," I say to Ashley.

We're leaving the Equinox gym after a particularly intense Pilates session. The instructor—Honey—always seems to take us right to our breaking point.

Like it's not enough to do a roll up, but she makes us add weighted exercise bags into the mix as well. I swear she hardly gives us a moment to catch our breath either—double straight leg stretch, to shoulder bridge, to double leg kick, to… well, you get the picture.

The next day leaves me so sore that I don't want to leave me bed.

It's a good thing Ashley agrees to this kind of torture because without her motivation, it'd be tough to stay committed to this.

"Tough day at the office?" Ashley laughs. "Did some billionaire cry about you not balancing his portfolio to his standards, or something?"

"Stop it," I laugh, playfully slapping her on her arm. "That's not it. Remember how I was running late this morning?"

"Yeah, and…? C'mon, you can't leave a girl in suspense."

"Well…" I continue, "I may or may not have made out with a billionaire on the 6 train."

"O-M-G, what?" Ashley squeals. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Look at this face," I say, giving her my most serious glare. "Do I look like I'm fucking kidding?"

"So, like what exactly happened? Because people don't usually just make out with random men on the 6 train."

"I don't know," I shrug. "It just happened."

Ashley laughs again. "I bet someone Snapchatted that shit when you weren't looking. Or maybe they posted it to Instagram … you know, on that one 'subway creatures' account."

"Eww… shut up!" I say playfully. I slap her arm again. "You're so mean. I can't believe we're BFFs sometimes."

Of course, Ashley is like my ride or die, but I have to throw her a little shade with the hard time she's giving me. But Ashley continues to poke fun.

"You could be Insta famous and not even know it," she says. "But seriously, what's the problem? A billionaire is kind of a catch … or wait … don't tell me. Is he like 80 years old with a triple chin?"

"Ew, stop Ash," I say. "He was—is—super hot. That bod of his was something else, but I haven't told you the worst part about all of this."

"What's that?"

"He's a Carter Jeffries client."

"What? Okay, now this is getting good. We should go grab a drink together so you can give me all of the juicy details," Ashley says.

"I don't know… it's a work night, and I have an early morning."

"What are you, like 30 years old or something? You're starting to sound like my parents, Alicia. That's some scary shit."

"Fine, fine, fine …" I say. "You don't have to be so dramatic. Way to guilt me. Where are we going?"

"Let's go to Bemelman's—at the Carlyle. It's a splurge, but you can't beat the piano. And c'mon, their La Pore cocktail is borderline orgasmic."

After Ashley and I change into more appropriate attire, we meet at Bemelman's Bar. Sure enough, a soft jazz piano is playing in the background.