I kiss her on the cheek and hug her. “I’m not interested in settling down with a man. I’m too busy with my career.”
Okay, that’s not entirely true. My career hasn’t exactly traveled in the direction I had envisioned it would when I obtained my political science degree.
Before attending college, I had planned to be a human rights lawyer and follow in my grandmother’s humanitarian footsteps. She was a popular film and stage actress in the sixties and seventies and then switched to focus on her philanthropic work.
She never went to law school. It was my father who pursued his law degree—corporate, not human rights. It was my father who strongly encouraged me to follow in his footsteps.
Except, being a lawyer wasn’t for me, I eventually realized.
A lifetime of legal talk sounded dull and uninspiring.
“That’s true,” Liza says. “It can’t be easy working for those five hot men.” She fans herself.
“Any luck yet convincing your boss to promote you to an operative?” Granny asks.
“Not yet. I know Liam wants to hire at least one female to join the team. Possibly two. But he’s been too busy to even consider candidates.”
Plus there’s the matter of him wanting experienced individuals, which I’m not. Or at least not experienced at the level he’s looking for.
“What you need to do is prove you’re fully capable of doing the job.”
“I know, but it’s not like I’ve had the opportunity to do that.” Other than some minor tasks, like interviewing persons of interest who were more likely to open up to a woman than a man.
But I want to do more than that. I want to be involved in the dangerous missions. Like when the government hires the team for operations that require outside assistance, beyond what the FBI and CIA can do.
The side of the company that the general public doesn’t know about.
As for the threesome’s original discussion about my love life—or rather, lack of one—I’m not looking to find my own happily ever after. My father cheated on my mother when I was a little kid. Mom never remarried after that. Dad did. Four more times. His marriages tend to last as long as a harvest moon. At most.
But I didn’t let this jade me against relationships. Not at first, anyway. I’ve had boyfriends over the years. But none—except for one—lasted long. Richard was a fellow political science major. The love of my life.
Until I found the love of my life going down on another woman. In our bedroom.
He’d never gone down onme, so my discovery was a double layer in the brick wall of disappointment.
I guess it was my fault for not kicking his sorry ass through the door sooner. Even before the situation with the other woman, I knew deep down that he wasn’t the right man for me.
For one, he hadn’t been a fan of the colored streaks in my hair (they were purple back then). And he preferred that I didn’t speak my mind when I accompanied him to the dinner parties his graduate school professors had thrown.
He even hinted more than once that I should also go to grad school and become a boring academic.
All right, he didn’t use the word boring.
That was all me.
A slight breeze blows a strand of hair into my face. I brush it behind my ear and bite into the yummy croissant. “So what was so urgent that I needed to rush over?”
Last time it was because she needed a fourth opinion on an outfit she was wearing to a gala for the opening of an art gallery. It was exhibiting photos by famous photographers—both alive and dead—that showcased the movie stars of the past—also both alive and dead.
“Urgent” means something entirely different to me than it does for Granny.
She exchanges a glance with Liza and Henri. They both rapidly nod their encouragement. “I’ve got the perfect opportunity for you to prove to your boss that you’ll be a great operative.”
“What opportunity?”
“An ex-boyfriend of mine needs your help.”
“Do I know him?” There have been a string of casual boyfriends since Grandpa’s death.
