Okay, maybe I was a little upset because I had wanted to talk to him, get to know him, and get help with my Econ paper. Not sit here staring at my phone panic-texting Stacey. The truth was I wanted us to become friends. In order to achieve my dreams of becoming a successful loan officer, having a powerful network of contacts was essential, and it was particularly helpful if my contacts were of the power and stature of one of the most successful young banking entrepreneurs in the country. Part of my reasoning behind wishing to discuss homework with him was that he could see my potential outside of my job as a teller and hopefully serve as a valuable reference someday. In fact, the more I thought about the contract that I had signed, the more it seemed to be beneficial to me rather than him.
But this, whatever was going on right now, was beneficial to nobody.
It was another half hour before a couple of men in black-and-white uniforms materialized as though out of thin air, and began setting up silver dishes on the mahogany table in Zayden’s office. Wouldn’t that stain? Zayden Sinclair probably didn’t give a crap about stains, though. He probably owned an entire IKEA all to himself, all furniture readily replaceable whenever he liked. Much like the women he got involved with. Disposable, just like me. I shook my head. Instead of letting my thoughts stray to needlessly upsetting places, what I needed to do was enjoy a nice dinner with an influential man and try to build on my nonexistent network.
One of the men in the uniforms was now walking towards me.
“Dinner is ready, Ma’am,’ he said with a smile on his face.
Ma’am. I wanted to burst out laughing. “Call me Aria, and thank you.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Ma’am,” he looked at me nervously.
Oh God. I did not have the energy or will to argue, as it hit me just how hungry I was. Whatever rich people ate for dinner, it had to be tasty, right? I took off my jacket and walked towards Zayden’s office. I was wearing a blue dress with a slightly low-cut neck, and black tights. Professional and hopefully alluring in a not misleading or sexual kind of a way. Most of the men in uniforms were now waiting just outside the bank’s premises, except for the guy who had come to summon me; he was holding a bottle of champagne.
Zayden was already seated when I got there, with a red napkin wrapped around his neck and his sleeves rolled up.
“Do you like champagne?” he asked.
“Who doesn’t like champagne,” I giggled in a don’t-be-silly kind of a way and sat down. “I love champagne, it’s super tasty and-”
I made the mistake of catching his eye. It was twinkling.
“Okay, I’ve never actually had champagne before,” I admitted. “I don’t really drink other than a few beers here and there with pizza and TV. I am not a particularly exciting person.”
He was beaming at me as though I had just said I saved sick puppies for a living.
“I haven’t had the luxury of enjoying greasy pizza and cheap beer with some good old television in quite some time.”
“Luxury? Are you mocking me?” Our waiter – server? butler? – was pouring out two glasses of champagne, as I tied a red napkin around my neck to match Zayden’s.
“No, not at all! Luxury is relative,” he said looking quite disdainful. “Sometimes I wish I could enjoy the simple pleasures of life, but all this was dropped on me,” he said, extending his arms out to his sides.
“You’re talking like you’re dead. We can totally just hang out with some Bud Light, pepperoni pizza and Netflix at my apartment one night if you like.” I laughed out loud at the thought of him coming to my apartment. Yeah, that was totally going to happen. It was polite to ask, still.
“What is that? Some kind of recording device?”
I stared at him in utter confusion for almost a whole minute before it hit me and I burst into full-blown laughter. Zayden Sinclair, CEO of the entire South National Bank empire, was asking me if Netflix was some kind of a recording device. What planet did he live on?
“It’s,” I started out to explain but felt another fit of giggles coming on, which I quickly turned into a cough because he began looking somewhat offended.
“It’s this website that stores hundreds of thousands of movies and TV shows, and you pay like 10 bucks a month to be able to stream all their content online.”
He twisted his mouth in a comical fashion. “I’m just joking, Aria,” he laughed. “I’d rather just purchase all of the movies and shows though.”
Well, he gave me a good laugh anyway.
“It would probably cost over a million dollars to try and purchase every title that’s on Netflix, though,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. “It’s just a cheap way to find entertainment for regular people like me.”
“I see,” he frowned, clearly not liking the concept and purpose of Netflix.
He was rich, so buying a Netflix subscription wasn’t something he would understand.
I raised my champagne glass to change the subject. “What are we drinking to?”
“To digital innovation,” he said, deadpan.
“Ha, ha,” I said, not laughing.