Not gonna say goodnight?
I’m not sure what it means or how I’m supposed to respond. Is he upset that I left the way I did? It’s not like I can tell him that I felt too conflicted to say anything else before I left. He wouldn’t understand. He would probably find a way to make fun of me for it. I leave his text unanswered.
In the morning, I look at my phone and reread his text. I read it again a few more times throughout the day. It’s not like me to leave a question unanswered, but I still can’t bring myself to respond. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. That I wish he had kissed me because he wanted to and not because Eddie might report back to Ryan that we weren’t behaving like a couple? After having a little space from the events of last night, the thought seems silly. I can’t imagine that Oliver and Ryan’s mutual friend would care that much about whether or not we kissed, or why he would feel the need to tell Ryan about it.
I close out of the message thread, making a conscious effort to forget about it. It’s late enough that it would be weird to say anything now.
At seven, I park my car outside H.M. Lounge. I spot Malcolm standing in front of the building. He’s dressed in a nicely fitted business suit, which is a relief because now I don’t feel overdressed in my blazer and skirt suit. He smiles when he notices me.
I smile back. I extend my hand to shake his when I reach him, but instead he pulls me in for an unexpected hug.
“It’s good to see you, Priscilla,” he says.
“Oh, uh, you too.” I try to keep my tone even so that I don’t give away that I’m surprised by the physical contact. I guess I didn’t know that Malcolm Ridges was a hugger.
“Shall we go inside?” He holds the front door open for me, then follows me inside.
I’ve been to plenty of bars, but never to one like this. Malcolm has to check in with the bouncer before we’re let in. He must be a regular here because the bouncer already knows his name. The bar has a well-lit assortment of liquor on the back shelf. There are multiple seating areas throughout the space. There are couches in one area, high-top glass tables in another, and booths with fine leather benches in the back. The music is low enough that we can actually hear each other. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a bar where I didn’t have to shout just to have a conversation.
Malcolm and I take one of the booths. He orders a martini and I get a strawberry margarita. As soon as the waitress walks away, I wonder if I should have ordered something more professional, like a glass of wine or a gin and tonic. I force a smile, trying not to overthink it. I reach into my handbag and pull out a pen and my notebook.
“What kind of event are you looking to coordinate?” I ask when we have our drinks.
He takes a sip, then puts the glass back on the table. “I’m looking for someone I can trust to take the lead on arranging all of ANY-Time’s events,” he says. “That’s what I was hoping to find with Delmar, but I think we both know how that went.”
I nod. “I’m sorry it didn’t go the way you expected. Do you only do charity dinners, or do you plan to do auctions and other types of events, too?”
“Silent auctions, traditional auctions, speeches and seminars. Anything you can think of, really. Does that sound like something you would be interested in?”
“Of course. I have experience with all of those and more.”
“What kind of projects are you working on right now?” he asks.
I take a sip of my drink while I try to think of how to phrase this. I’m not sure he’ll take me seriously if I explain that my main project right now is arranging a flash mob and fireworks for someone else’s proposal. I clear my throat.
“To be honest, my business is so new that I only have one other client right now. I’m in charge of making sure that a marriage proposal and wedding go as smoothly as possible.”
He licks his lips after taking a drink. “Only one other client, huh?”
“I hope that’s not a dealbreaker.” I hold my breath while I wait for his answer. Every word matters in a business deal, and I’m afraid to say the wrong thing.
He watches his martini glass as he rotates the stem between his fingers. “On the contrary,” he says, looking up at me. “If you only have one other client, wouldn’t that mean you have more time for me?”
I smile, trying to hide how relieved I feel. “Of course.”
Malcolm leans back in his seat. He looks more relaxed now. “This is actually perfect. I’m looking for someone who can be exclusive to ANY-Time. When this wedding you’re planning is all over, would you consider signing on with me? It would be guaranteed, steady work, and you wouldn’t ever have to worry about competing against other event planners.”
The idea of not having to compete is nice, but I’m not sure if this is right for me.
“Would it be enough work?” I ask. “And why would I need to be exclusive as long as the other events I’m planning aren’t for your competitors?”
“I want to know that you’re always there when I need you.” He waves to one of the cocktail waitresses, who promptly brings him another martini.
“Anything for you, Priscilla?” he asks.
I shake my head. I still have half of my margarita left. “I’m fine for now.”
“I can make sure the pay is more than worth your while,” he says. “If you feel like there’s not enough work, if you get bored, just go on vacation. You’ll be able to afford to.”
