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eventually.
    “Highly unlikely, Max. Highly. Unlikely,” I
cut back at him.
    “You never know Abri. These things just
happen.” Lindsey absentmindedly adjusts her top and smoothes her hair. I am
shocked that she doesn’t ask who my mystery date is given that Max seems so
hell bent against him.
    “What did you do for lunch today?” I ask, eyeing
her suspiciously.
    “Uh, I went down stairs for a sandwich.” She
does not look convincing. 
    “Oh really, what was the special today?”
    “Tuna.”
    “Wrong,” Max exclaims. “It was roast beef.” I
nod in agreement; glad Max’s attention has turned from my social calendar. 
    Lindsey punches him in the arm and walks to
the door. “Whatever,” she laughs and sticks out her tongue. “You’ll meet him
tonight.”
    “Keep that in your mouth young lady!” I warn
as she turns around. 
     

CHAPTER SIX
    Happy hour days are a nice break. Things start
to wind down around four thirty in anticipation of making our way across the
street to Charlie’s. The partners promptly make their obligatory “good job
team” speech and leave us for more important pursuits in the private dining
room beyond the bar. Max is always more than a little agitated that he is not
invited to the associate’s happy hour but he does his best to contain it. Today
is no different.
    “Dude, just come anyways. Not invited is not
the same as not allowed.” I say the same thing to him every month and every
month he pouts but refuses to join us.
    “Don’t call me dude like I’m well, some dude,”
he quips. 
    “Seriously, of all the nights, I know you
want to come to this one and see if Luke O’Reilly really shows back up.” I
wince as the heat from the flat iron gets a little too close to my face. Max’s
previous incarnation was as a stylist so I roped him into doing my hair and
make-up in anticipation of the evening. I don’t question why he has a flat iron
or a makeup kit readily available in his desk.   
    “I do. But what if I get caught? Turn your
head a little to the right.”
    “So come after five thirty. Once they’ve
said their speech and toasted the latest firm success they’ll go to the back
room and you’ll just be another bar patron meeting up with friends for a drink.
Trust me; they never come back out of that room until closing time. And that’s
only to see who’s left at the bar so they can pop in on them at nine o’clock
sharp, hoping to catch a hangover on firm time.” I can’t speak from personal
experience, but another associate warned me against it at my first happy hour
and I’ve never wanted to tempt fate. Apparently, those unfortunate enough to be
marked received a high priority assignment on their desks in the morning with a
three o’clock deadline.
    “Okay. I’ll come, but not until six.” Max’s
curiosity outweighs his loyalty to firm policy. “At least someone will be there
to fix your hair if you mess it up. Which I’m only doing because you can’t look
like warmed over dog shit in that dress. Hold still.”
    “Okay, if you’re coming then you have to
tell me why you suddenly dislike the idea of me seeing Lucan O’Reilly,” I
demand. “Your tune changed as soon as you saw that black calling card.”
    Max is quiet just long enough for me to know
that whatever comes out of his mouth next has been censured. “It’s pretentious,
that’s all. Who goes around leaving calling cards these days? There wasn’t even
a phone number on it.”
    “Is that all?” I play along, not believing
for a second that that is the real reason behind his gall. “Really Max, that’s
nothing to get all twisted up about. The no phone number thing is weird but
maybe he doesn’t want just anyone calling him. He is one of New York’s most
eligible bachelors after all.”
    Max shrugs. “I guess you’re right.”
    ***
    At ten until five, I am ready to go. Linds
and I always head out just before everyone else to beat the elevator crowd. Lindsey
is waiting for