Page 27 of Don't Quit the Day Job

"Jack Whittington has an office in Midtown West, the car will take us there." I step forward as I see the black Cadillac Escalade Sport pull up to the front of the building. "If you have your phone on you, I'd like you to Google him so that we can get some more information."

"You want me to Google him?" She raises an eyebrow as I open the door for her. I watch her step up and take a seat and I can't help but stare at her long legs as her skirt rides up her thighs.

"That's what I said." I realize my voice sounds a bit obnoxious and soften my tone. "I don't know much about him and I'd like to be well informed before I meet him for the first time."

"You've never met him before?" She sounds surprised as I get in behind her and close the door.

"No, I have not." I buckle my seatbelt. "Good Afternoon, Henry. This is my new assistant, Lila. Lila, this is Henry, one of the drivers for the firm."

"Nice to meet you, Henry." She raises her head and smiles at the older man as he gives her a quick look back.

"Very nice to make your acquaintance Lila." He nods and starts the engine again. I look over at Lila and watch as she types something on her phone. Her fingernails are painted a light pink and I notice she's not wearing much jewelry. I wonder if she really does have a boyfriend. I wonder how serious the relationship is.

"So…tell me more about your boyfriend." I say before I can stop myself. I'm irritated that I'm digging for more personal information, even after I told myself I was going to keep it professional.

"I thought you wanted to know about Jack…" she says, looking up at me and showing me her phone screen. There's a photo of a middle-aged man on the screen and I can tell from the smug look on his face that he definitely has more money than he knows what to do with. "Oh, wow! He owns Jack's Shacks," she says in an awed voice. "My best friend, Zara, and I wanted to rent one of his beach shacks in Bali, but they were so expensive we said we'd wait until we retired." She leans back into the leather seat. "Though, I suppose Zara can go now if she wants."

"But you can't?"

"I mean, she'll go with her boyfriend." Her voice trails off and she blushes, that pinkish hue that makes my heart shift every time I see it.

"Your boyfriend can't take you? Or is he broke?" The question comes across as rude, but I'm curious. My instincts tell me that he doesn't have two brass pennies to rub together, but I know from my legal work that you can never assume anything in life. For all I know, she’s dating Bill Gates and is just trying to prove to him that she isn't a gold digger. It’s highly unlikely, but you never know.

"He's not broke." She shifts in the seat, clearly uncomfortable, and turns away from me. I wonder if she's uncomfortable talking about her boyfriend with me, or if she feels guilty about the way she reacts to me. The thought delights me that her attraction to me is something she can't hide. Not that I would pursue her or continue our weird little flirtation if I thought she was actually in a relationship; even though I'm not actually looking for a relationship, I have no interest in being a homewrecker.

"How long have you been dating, exactly?" I push it a little further. "Is he on the path to becoming your fiancé?"

"I don't really think that's important, or any of your business, do you?" she snaps, her eyes shifting back and forth like a criminal’s does in an interrogation room. I’m getting under her skin. I'd prefer to be getting under her clothes. If the circumstances were different, of course.

"Does this guy that you're dating know that you're calling him your boyfriend?" I pause dramatically and run my fingers through my hair. The car hums along slowly, darting in and out of traffic to get us to our destination in a timely fashion. Lila's jaw drops open like I've offended her and she shifts back into the seat again, causing her already short skirt to ride up again. Her thighs look toned and tan and I look away before my thoughts start becoming inappropriate.

"You what?" She sputters and coughs slightly.

I can't quite stop myself from laughing as I see her face going scarlet red. "I'm not trying to judge or make you uncomfortable. But this boyfriend? Is he a friend with benefits? Does he know you're telling people he's your boyfriend." I pause as she licks her lips nervously. She's definitely uncomfortable. "Does he even exist?"

She stills and I chuckle. There is definitely no boyfriend, but I won't let her know how confident I am of that just yet.

"I'm just curious how your boyfriend, the man you love, the man you make sweet love to, would feel knowing you were flirting with and offering yourself to me today?"

"Say what?" She sits forward, her hair falling over her shoulders as her body shakes in agitation. "I didn't offer myself to you. You wish I offered myself to you. Do you know what I want to know? I want to know why you offered me this job! Is it because you thought and hoped that you were going to get a piece of me?" She looks me up and down and shakes her head. "I've been trying to figure out why you gave me this job, because let's be real, we both know I'm not exactly qualified. I mean, I am a fast learner, but you don't know that. I think you just want to torment and torture me until I agree to sleep with you." She takes a deep breath. "But I'm not lucky enough to be offered a million dollars. You probably want me to do it for a hundred, but I am not a whore, Mr. Spector. I'm not about to sleep with you for a hundred bucks." She crosses her arms and gives me a smug look. "Sorry about your luck."

I consider telling her about the supermodels and A-list actresses I've bedded in the last couple of years. I could pull out my phone and show her that a princess in a small country had been texting me for three months straight, begging me to fly over and take her to dinner. The fact that Lila really seems to think I would offer her anything to sleep with her is laughable. I could, quite frankly, get any woman I wanted, if I wanted them.

I decide not to come off as a smug prick though. I don't want her to think I’m a player. I don't want her to think that I’m the sort of man that only dates glamorous women.

"So you consider a woman who sleeps with a man for a hundred dollars a whore, but you think it's OK if she does it for a million?" I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head to the side as if I'm pondering the meaning of life. "Double standards much?" I shake my head slowly before continuing. "Also, dear Lila, you really need to stop accusing me of wanting to sleep with you; especially with the caveat of me paying. I am not the sort of man that would offer money to a woman for anything physical. I don't really find movies like Pretty Woman to be romantic, but rather a poor spotlight on how rich men can get away with almost anything and still be celebrated."

"Are you saying that you're not a rich man?" she asks in disbelief, and I can see her shaking her head. Lila wears her heart and her emotions on her sleeve. I quite like how transparent she is and I wonder how well she can hide her emotions as an actress. I don't want to judge her, but I have a feeling that Hollywood won't be calling her anytime soon. She doesn't seem to be able to fake any of her emotions.

"Oh, honey," I chuckle as I think about just how many zeroes I have in my accounts. "That's the sort of question that doesn't even warrant a response." For some reason, I don't want her to know just how much money I'm worth. She's not from South Carolina, she's never heard of the Spectors. I have a feeling she's not interested in horse racing either, so she wouldn’t know or care about the family dynasty.

"Tell me what else you found out about Jack Whittington." I fold my arms and lean back.

A slight quiver of disappointment crosses her face and I wonder if she expected me to tell her exactly what my net worth was.

I'm not the sort of man to show off by talking about my bank account. The very thought of it is uncouth. Not that that sentiment is normal for many bachelors in The City; most men I know love to show off their wealth. They love to impress women and money has a way of appealing to demographics that you thought would never be interested in you, but I've always disliked people gravitating toward me because of my family's net worth. I’m more than a figure in the bank. I think that was why Kingston, Remington, and Gabe had all been drawn to each other. We'd all grown up in families with money. We all knew what it was to want to prove ourselves outside of that wealth. And we’re doing it. We’re succeeding, though I know Marie would ask if we feel we were living full lives. She feels that a life without love is a life not worth living. But she’s a teen and a true romantic and hasn't yet experienced the realities of love and relationships. It isn't all sugar, candy, and flowers. Love is an intricate puzzle made of pieces that could disintegrate in a minute. You can try and fit a piece into another, and for a while, even think it was in the correct spot, but then as it worms its way out and you realize it was in the wrong spot all along. Emotions are not to be trusted. They aren't black and white and there’s no science that can explain how love works.

I like to work with concrete facts. I like to work with reason. If A happens, then B will also happen. And if C is added, then we have X. I need to be able to understand how things fit together and you just can’t fully understand emotions. I think that's part of the reason why I've never really fallen in love. I don't want to lose control of any part of my life.

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