“Just do it,” Chloe says, walking over from the window. “Or we’re never leaving this room. Trust me.”
Sandra twists her lips and does as she’s told, reappearing in her suit jacket and the short sequined skirt. Perfect. The suit jacket is black and tailored, the cut creating a v-neck and exposing some skin, but covering plenty. Her legs look a mile long, bare under the short skirt and ending in those fuck-me heels.
“We should curl your hair,” I announce, walking into the bathroom and plugging in an iron. She doesn’t even fight me on this. Progress.
I sit her at the vanity in Sawyer’s bathroom and go to work putting big loose curls into Sandra’s hair.
“Who is Everly trying to set you up with?” Chloe asks her, while digging through my makeup bag, so she misses the startled expression on Sandra’s face.
“What?” Sandra’s eyes dart over to Chloe.
“She’s setting you up, you know that, right?” Chloe, finding my hand lotion, looks up.
“I’m not setting anyone up.” I shake my head. I’m not. I’m merely creating opportunities.
“She put me on a dating site without telling me.” Chloe squeezes some lotion out of the tube and rubs her hands together. I don’t think she needs the lotion. I think she was just looking for an excuse to rub her hands together in glee over having someone new to share my wrongdoings with. “Sent me on a date I didn’t even know I was on,” she adds.
“One time. That happened one time.” I unplug the curling iron, wrapping the cord around the handle.
“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“It won’t!” I promise, shaking my head.
She holds my gaze for a second, then nods.
“The thing is,” I say slowly, testing the waters, “he’s not here tonight, but I do think I found the perfect guy for you.”
I’m met with a blank stare. Chloe doesn’t even blink.
“You know how you have a thing for FBI agents?” I ask, getting a little excited. I wasn’t joking about the Criminal Minds marathon. She’s seen every episode at least twice. I take her silence as encouragement. “He’s based here in Philly and he’s hot.”
Silence.
“And he’s, um, tall. He’s tall.” I nod. Oh, God. I’m babbling. Chloe is scary when she’s quiet. “And he’s Irish!” I remember. “You would have the cutest babies.” That was probably too far.
“So what’s his name?” Chloe turns to Sandra, ignoring me completely. “Or do you even know? Sometimes she makes up things in her head that aren’t actually happening. Is there a guy you like?”
“His name is Gabe,” I answer for Sandra as we exit the apartment, choosing to focus on tonight’s goal instead. There’s plenty of time to work on Chloe’s love life. “He’s not her boss, because I’m dating her boss and that would be super awkward, but he’s a vice-president at Clemens Corporation, which makes it a little bit naughty, don’t you think?” I don’t wait for anyone to answer me. “Sandra wants to do dirty, dirty things with him on his desk.”
Sandra blushes and shakes her head before stopping herself. “How could you possibly know that? You’ve seen us together one time.”
“I’m observant.” I shrug.
“Well, it’s irrelevant,” she says, straightening, spine straight as we walk. “It’s not appropriate. And I’m not his type,” she adds in a soft voice.
“We’ll see about that,” I respond. We’ve made it back to the hotel lobby and I spy the man himself waiting for an elevator to the party space on the second floor.
Sandra twists her lips and does as she’s told, reappearing in her suit jacket and the short sequined skirt. Perfect. The suit jacket is black and tailored, the cut creating a v-neck and exposing some skin, but covering plenty. Her legs look a mile long, bare under the short skirt and ending in those fuck-me heels.
“We should curl your hair,” I announce, walking into the bathroom and plugging in an iron. She doesn’t even fight me on this. Progress.
I sit her at the vanity in Sawyer’s bathroom and go to work putting big loose curls into Sandra’s hair.
“Who is Everly trying to set you up with?” Chloe asks her, while digging through my makeup bag, so she misses the startled expression on Sandra’s face.
“What?” Sandra’s eyes dart over to Chloe.
“She’s setting you up, you know that, right?” Chloe, finding my hand lotion, looks up.
“I’m not setting anyone up.” I shake my head. I’m not. I’m merely creating opportunities.
“She put me on a dating site without telling me.” Chloe squeezes some lotion out of the tube and rubs her hands together. I don’t think she needs the lotion. I think she was just looking for an excuse to rub her hands together in glee over having someone new to share my wrongdoings with. “Sent me on a date I didn’t even know I was on,” she adds.
“One time. That happened one time.” I unplug the curling iron, wrapping the cord around the handle.
“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“It won’t!” I promise, shaking my head.
She holds my gaze for a second, then nods.
“The thing is,” I say slowly, testing the waters, “he’s not here tonight, but I do think I found the perfect guy for you.”
I’m met with a blank stare. Chloe doesn’t even blink.
“You know how you have a thing for FBI agents?” I ask, getting a little excited. I wasn’t joking about the Criminal Minds marathon. She’s seen every episode at least twice. I take her silence as encouragement. “He’s based here in Philly and he’s hot.”
Silence.
“And he’s, um, tall. He’s tall.” I nod. Oh, God. I’m babbling. Chloe is scary when she’s quiet. “And he’s Irish!” I remember. “You would have the cutest babies.” That was probably too far.
“So what’s his name?” Chloe turns to Sandra, ignoring me completely. “Or do you even know? Sometimes she makes up things in her head that aren’t actually happening. Is there a guy you like?”
“His name is Gabe,” I answer for Sandra as we exit the apartment, choosing to focus on tonight’s goal instead. There’s plenty of time to work on Chloe’s love life. “He’s not her boss, because I’m dating her boss and that would be super awkward, but he’s a vice-president at Clemens Corporation, which makes it a little bit naughty, don’t you think?” I don’t wait for anyone to answer me. “Sandra wants to do dirty, dirty things with him on his desk.”
Sandra blushes and shakes her head before stopping herself. “How could you possibly know that? You’ve seen us together one time.”
“I’m observant.” I shrug.
“Well, it’s irrelevant,” she says, straightening, spine straight as we walk. “It’s not appropriate. And I’m not his type,” she adds in a soft voice.
“We’ll see about that,” I respond. We’ve made it back to the hotel lobby and I spy the man himself waiting for an elevator to the party space on the second floor.
