Page 19 of The Plus One Professional
Hindsight, it turned out, was not always twenty-twenty. I was just as confused today as I’d been when I’d walked out of that bathroom. Just as torn as to whether I blew it or not. Just as confused as to why I felt such a connection with a woman I didn’t know.
Something had transpired between us, something undeniable; I just wasn’t sure what it was or what to do about it. The fact that I’d dreamt of her eye and hair color was one more piece of the puzzle; I just wasn’t sure where it fit. But it had to be significant. Didn’t it?
Or maybe not. Maybe the first dream I’d had in color in over fifteen years didn’t mean anything. There were only so many eye/hair combinations. Maybe my subconscious had just taken a guess and gotten it right. Maybe we didn’t have some sort of cosmic connection at all.
My mind was still on the maybe teeter-totter as I got to the site and pulled my company truck beside Timmy, who was seated on his open tailgate with Eric and Finn. The three men had been my best friends since we were twelve. Timmy Mendoza used to live in the same building I still lived in. I’d met Eric Walters and Finn O’Malley at the school I transferred to after I moved in with my sister.
Sara lovingly referred to the trio as the Three Stooges because, as she put it, they were prone to shenanigans. But they were also the best friends anyone could ask for. When my life imploded after Peter got sick and died, Sara had the twins and got sick; they were my age, only eighteen and nineteen, but they showed up with food, they helped with the kids, and they did laundry. Well, it was mainly their moms who did the cooking and laundry, but they still facilitated it. They would bring the meals, pick up the dirty clothes, and drop off the clean clothes.
They were the guys that, in the immortal words of Robin Williams inGood Will Hunting, if I asked them to, would “take a fucking bat to someone’s head” for me, and they wouldn’t ask questions. They were loyal. They would always have my back.
I got out of the truck, and we all walked onto the site. The guys were mid-discussion of what they’d gotten up to over the weekend. Eric and his friend-with-benefits hookup, Sabrina, had attended a sex club. Finn had spent the weekend in Vegas and lost a grand. And Timmy had gone out on another date with an Instagram model whose DM’s he’d slid into about a month ago and got head in his car outside the restaurant they’d gone to.
“How was your weekend?” Finn asked.
“Good. Quiet.” I hadn’t had any jobs, and I’d done my best to keep the boys out of the apartment. On Saturday, I took them and Carly to the zoo, and on Sunday, we all went to the House of Air trampoline park just to give Sara some peace and quiet.
My life was very different from that of my friends.
The first half of the workday passed without incident. I’d checked my phone every hour or so, just to make sure Sara hadn’t messaged me. Her complexion had been so pale this morning that I worried she might have one of her episodes.
By the time eleven o’clock rolled around, my stomach was growling. I met up with the boys in the parking lot, and we sat on the tailgates of our trucks. I grabbed one of the turkey sandwiches from my insulated lunch box and finished it in two bites. I was pulling out the second one when my phone alerted me to a message. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw it was another wedding. This Sunday. It was a repeat client, which always made things easier. Layla Simms had hired me over the past year to accompany her to a Christmas party and a ten-year high school reunion.
Layla was beautiful, smart, funny, and could easily get a date. She was also one of the ten percent of women who showedzerointerest in me. There were a handful of clients who I looked forward to seeing—well, three, actually—and she was one of them. Layla, who worked in tech; Charli James, a supermodel turned doctor; and Rebecca Miller, a fitness blogger who had launched a fitness app that was now estimated to be worth over twenty million dollars.
All three women were successful, gorgeous, and could get any man they wanted, yet they hired me to go to events with them. Charli told me once that the reason she hired me was the same reason successful and attractive men hired prostitutes. They weren’t paying for the sex; they were paying them to leave after. She explained she didn’t have time for the emotional baggage a date brought with them. Nor did she want to deal with the aftermath of someone falling in love with her. She knew that I would pick her up on time, be the epitome of arm candy, be good company so she wasn’t bored, and not expect anything from her at the end of the night. She said it was worth every dime.
“Is that another date?” Finn asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded as I put my phone back in my pocket.
“Hey, um…” Finn, Timmy, and Eric exchanged looks, and I braced myself to once again be asked if I would ‘hook them up’, meaning bring them on board at TPOP.
I’d mistakenly shared with them when my co-worker offered to pay me to go to the wedding. Then, after I got more ‘dates’ I’d openly discussed my plans to make it a business. That was my mistake, especially since anonymity was a necessity and they all had big mouths. Which was another reason I wasn’t sure I wanted to expand and include them in the business. All three of my friends were good-looking, single guys, but just like I didn’t trust them to keep it in their pants, I also didn’t trust them not to brag that they got money to take people out on dates. Especially if they had a few beers in them.
“We heard Lindsay is back in town,” Eric blurted out.
All of my friends froze, staring at me, waiting for a reaction. I wasn’t sure exactly what they were expecting. Did they think I would freak out? Did they think I would get upset? Did they think I was going to get mad?
“Oh.” I bit into my second sandwich.
“She didn’t tell you she was coming back?” Timmy asked.
I shook my head as I took a swig of water. That would be impossible since I’d blocked her from everything, which, looking back, was probably an immature thing to do, but, hey, I was only twenty-one.
“Danny ran into her,” Eric explained.
Danny was Eric’s brother. He was a few years older than us, and I was pretty sure he’d always had a thing for Lindsay.
“Are you going to call her?” Finn asked. “Are you going to see her?”
“Why would I?”
Again, the trio exchanged looks as if they had something to say about my response, but none of them had the balls to say it.
“What? Just say it.”
“It’s just…” Finn shrugged. “You know you’re Lindsay and Cole. Cole and Lindsay.”
