“Have you considered that maybe Lizzie is playing you? After all, it’s her job to be the perfect woman, and I’m sure she’s good at it. She seduces men for a living and makes them think they can do anything to her. Maybe she’s hoping to get some special perks out of this deal.”
“I don’t think that’s the case. I’m smarter than that. I’ve seen a lot of women. I know the games they play.”
“But how smart is your cock?”
Our waitress comes back to the table to give us the bill. Chuck and I go on these lunch meetings often, and we usually just go back and forth regarding who pays. It’s my turn this time. I pick up the bill, noticing something is on the back.
I turn it over, and there’s a phone number along with “Becca” and a heart next to it. I hand the bill over to Chuck.
“Dude, what the fuck? It’s your turn to pay.”
“Read the back, Chuck.”
He looks at the phone number, smirking as he takes out his phone to punch it in.
“I knew she’d pick me over those other guys,” he says smugly. He stops entering the number and looks at me in confusion.
“Hang on,” he starts. “You totally could have taken this number yourself to take her out.”
“You’re more invested in her than me. Only makes sense that you should be the one with the shot.”
“Damn,” he replies shaking his head in disbelief. “You must really like Lizzie.”
I don’t say anything. I take the last bite out of my meal and take the credit card out of my wallet to pay.
“There are lots of beautiful women out there. And there are plenty of beautiful women who know how to use their looks to get what they want. Just be careful with Lizzie,” he says.
Our waitress comes back to pick up my card.
“Oh my god,” she exclaims. “Is this a black card?”
“It is indeed,” I say.
She takes the card toward the back counter, glancing at me as she does so.
“Holy shit,” Chuck says. “Even when you’re not trying, you can still have any woman you want.”
Damn fucking right.
Lizzie
I don’t take shit—it’s sort of a thing around the mansion and the Bennet Babes world. And while you wouldn’t think it if you watched my badass self in action during a show, I also don’t like conflict.
Not the real stuff, like in the workplace. When it lingers, it doesn’t do shit for anyone. Thank goodness things are back to normal more recently.
Jane is showing off her new black feather boa. Well, it’s as new as anything she gets during one of her lunchtime shopping runs.
I adore how freaking excited Jane gets with every new prop. And this one’s so simple! But she’s having the time of her goddamn life doing a faux striptease in the middle of what’s supposed to be the study on the mansion’s ground floor. Jane is grinding dangerously close to the bookcase, her butt within a few inches of an old Encyclopedia Britannica set.
I so want to see her knock that shit over. Jane’s flailing her new toy above her head like a lasso. And now she’s whipping the air like it’s a cat-o-nine tails! Ahhhhh!
I’m sitting on the leopard-print loveseat with Charlie, and Mary’s in the easy chair next to us. We’re all watching as if we’re leering fans seeing Jane do a cam show.
Jane’s going nuts, even though there’s no music. We start out hooting and catcalling, but as usual within a couple minutes we’re all shrieking at the top of our lungs like we’re at a Backstreet Boys concert. There’s only one person in the universe who can break through our high-pitched racket.
Catherine is saying, “Ladies, ladies,” in a calm voice, normal volume and everything, but within a few seconds, all of us are quiet and looking at Catherine standing in the study doorway. I swear they need to send this lady to the UN or something.
Catherine walks in and everything happens so fast: Jane sits down next to me on the arm of the loveseat, Lydia follows Catherine and sits on the old movie theater chair—which is the last seat available—and Catherine takes a spot in front of the window next to the bookcase. From chaos to a perfectly organized meeting within a few seconds, this is Catherine’s unique skillset.