Billionaire Beast

“Actually,” I tell him, “I’m just on my way out for the day, but Annabeth should be around here somewhere.”

That should keep him busy for a while, as I happen to know that Annabeth is at Reginald’s for a ridiculously extended lunch break.

I pop over to Mr. Kidman’s office to ask him if he needs anything else. He tells me to go and spread my wild oats. Yeah, he also tells me to take pictures of the oats-sowing, and I’m pretty sure he’s using the wrong expression given my gender, but it’

s close enough to a nice moment that I walk back out of his office with a spring in my step.

I pull out my phone.

“Hey,” I write, “still at Reginald’s?”

I get to the elevator and wait in the lobby for a response before I do anything else.

“No,” Annabeth’s return message reads, “but if you’re up for skipping out, I’m getting some drinks with some guys down at the bar.”

With Annabeth, there is only one bar in New York. “I’ll see you there in 20 minutes.”

A minute or two later, I’m in a cab, telling the driver to step on it. He sighs and rolls his eyes at the cliché, but damn it, I’m having a wonderful day.

When the cab pulls up, I spot Annabeth standing outside the door, sucking down a cigarette.

She drops it when I step out of the cab.

“Ho-ly shit, girl!” she says. “I never thought you’d actually blow off work to come get drinks with me.”

I would tell her that I was actually offered an early day, but what’s the point?

“I had to see what you were up to one of these times, didn’t I?” I ask.

“Ooh, ooh,” she says, “you have got to meet these guys I’ve been talking with in there. I have a feeling your dry spell is about to experience unseasonable precipitation.”

She holds her hand above her head for a high five, but I can’t reward her for that comment. “You know I love you,” I tell her, “but can we not do the double-entendre thing. We’ve talked about this and decided that neither one of us is any good at it.”

“Oh, fine,” she says, lowering her hand. It goes back up when she announces, “Girl, you gonna get laid!”

I laugh and do my best to give her a high five that doesn’t completely embarrass both of us, but that’s really not why I’m here.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I tell her, “from what I remember of it, sex is pretty nice, but I’m really not looking for something like that right now.”

She nods awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess you’re—”

“Oh, who am I kidding? I’m an apple tree that needs to be plucked.”

“I thought we just agreed—”

“I know, I know. We really are terrible at that, aren’t we?”

“You said it.”

Annabeth finishes up her cigarette and we walk into Club Allen, the worst-named bar in New York and the only place in this world that Annabeth would rather be than Bali. Come to think of it, I’m not sure that’s she’s ever been to Bali, but I do remember her talking a lot about it.

Huh.

We’re 20 feet from the bar when I spot the group that Annabeth was talking about. It has to be them. They’re the only ones who look like escaped convicts.

Annabeth bounces over to them and gives them all hugs. I’m pretty sure she said they just met, but whatever. She’s rather friendly that way.

She points to me, obviously telling them something, but it’s too loud for me to hear what she’s saying, so I walk closer to the group.