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job right out of college. Even though my father was really sick at the time of my graduation he did offer to make a few calls for me. He died two months later. At the funeral all of his associates told me to call if I needed anything, ever. I could probably make one phone call and have the Denon account considering that is where my father worked. But I saw what my father did to get ahead in life. How his job and his connections meant more to him than his own family and friends. That will never be me. I will never trade on my relationships and I will never make anyone feel like they only matter if they can help me.
    “Look Stuart,” I say turning back to him. “I have seen first-hand what trading on your friends will get you. I won’t do it and I won’t allow you to do it either. If one of your friend’s asks then by all means tell them that we went to the premier. Tell them how good the show was and that they should go see it. Tell them you met the star but please do not trade on my friendship with Joe or Bobby for that matter, to move yourself up in the company. That is not the type of person I want to be with, okay?”
    He nods his head, “Okay. I understand how you feel. But if we end up hanging out with them do not expect me not to mention it in casual conversations. I won’t bring them up but don’t ask me to omit them just because their names might make an impression.”
    “I can live with that I guess,” I say.
    “We good?” he asks.
    “Yeah, we’re good” I say, not really knowing. I guess time will tell if Stuart is the guy I thought he was or if he is like my father. One Dick in my life is enough. My father’s name was Richard Plata, people called him Dick. I think karma knew what it was doing when that nickname was handed out.
    We pull up to Stuart’s building and get out. He takes my hand leading me past the doorman and to the elevators. He lives on the fourth floor of a nice building on East seventy-fifth between Fifth and Madison Avenues. It is an older building pre-war brownstone which was converted into apartments. Stuart has half of the floors and his apartment is spacious for New York standards. He has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large living room, a small dining room and a very small kitchen. I know that is the one thing I will miss living in the city, a kitchen you can really cook in. I love to cook and bake. When I am really stressed I start making sauce or make chicken alfredo or an apple pie. I have a feeling I will be doing one of those things tomorrow night in anticipation of Bobby’s call on Monday.
    Stuart’s style is modern, white walls and wooden floors. He has an oval black and white leather sectional in the living room. It looks like a piano, not really my taste, I like more traditional décor. Everything is in its place and very organized. There are no personal pictures displayed just some framed prints on the walls. No books to be seen, there is a massive flat screen and blue ray player. Speakers are on all four walls to create surround sound. He obviously likes his entertainment. It’s definitely a guy’s apartment.
    “Would you like a drink?” he asks, walking into the kitchen. “I picked up Sangria since I knew you would be here.”
    “That was sweet of you,” I say as I walk towards him. “I would love some.” Maybe a drink will help this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I shouldn’t be here now.
    He hands me a glass and puts his hand on my back to pull me towards him. “I am so glad you’re here,” he says leading me over to the couch. We sit down and he puts his arm around me moving close. “You are so beautiful and I can’t believe I can finally touch you.” He caresses my cheek. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for years for you.” He kisses the side of my mouth gently then licks my lips, “You taste so good.” He kisses me again, this time I open my lips and his tongue assaults mine. He pushes in and brushes against my teeth then the