Page 54 of Eye Candy

“Amber and I have only been dating for a few months, man,” Xan replied. “It’s way too soon for travel.”

Meanwhile, I wanted to take a girl out of the country and I’d only known her name for forty-eight hours.

I groaned and buried my head in my hands.

Xan patted my shoulder. “I’m just saying, man, this is the kind of thing you were trying to stop your brother from doing.”

Xan knew Caroline had left my house abruptly the morning after my disastrous cocktail party. But I hadn’t told him I’d made her come on my fingers and that it was the most affirmingmoment of my life, or that she wasn’t really an oil heiress she was a burlesque artist from New Zealand named Caroline Holliday.

Fuck.

“I just want to make a gesture, Xan. I thought I’d take her to Gerry’s black and white ball.”

“Chase. You’re acting out of your mind.”

“You don’t know her like I do,” I said stubbornly.

Gerry’s event would be a spectacle—his things always were—and my glitzy scammer would love it. She could be herself there.

We were flying separately, as Caroline couldn’t leave until Saturday morning. If it was anyone else, I would charter a flight for them, but I wasn’t going to do that after the whole emissions chat last night. I’d get her a business class ticket. Or even economy so I really didn’t seem pretentious.No, that’s too far.

“Was Gerry the guy I met at Joe’s birthday last year? He brought three shirtless guys in harnesses as his dates?”

“That’s him.”

A delivery person arrived, and my business partner leaped to his feet. “This will be the carved dice I was telling you about, Chase. The ones with the forestry designs!”

I knew what Xan was like when he got new dice. He’d roll every single one and if the first face they threw was low, he’d hold it against them forever. Any that threw twenties would be cherished. The process would take hours.

Roll for It was above a hairdresser’s at the intersection of two of the busiest foot-traffic streets in the borough. We were one of the best spots in the area for board and tabletop games. Originally, I’d bought this property with plans to turn it into a coworking space for writers. But after meeting Xan by chance at a mutual friend’s fundraiser, we’d gotten talking about his plans for a gaming business and a few months later, went into partnership with Roll.

The floor was bright and open, and the walls were lined with boxed games and multicolored dice sets—more than I’d ever imagined possible; dice were Xan’s passion—and long tables tookup the central floor space. Xander ran the shop and hosted games, and I spent my days doing our admin or sitting at a table in the corner writing my blogs.

I’d always believed writers needed quiet, especially for serious subject matter, but I wrote far better on days when there were games on the floor. The Rollers played their pretend adventures raucously, and it lifted my spirits by proxy.

Today was proof New York was best in spring. It was warm but not sticky, there were tulips everywhere, and outdoor cafés were open again. It was only ten on Saturday morning, which was still too early for most hard-core Rollers, so it was just me, Xan, and a few school-age kids grouped around a table.

Leaving Xan to fawn over his dice, I opened a new window on my computer.

The author of “Letter 256: My Wife Is Terrible with Money, Is It OK to Have Secret Accounts?” would have to wait. Instead, I pasted in a link Greta had sent me this morning.

I scrolled the eveningwear site as Xan unpacked his treasures. He didn’t raise the topic again, and quietly, I extended our return flights by a few days. Caroline had never been to Toronto, she’d want to see some of the city.

I knew Xan had a point—by flying a woman I hardly knew places and buying her clothing, I was skating a bit close to Austin territory. But Caroline wasn’t Teddy, she wasn’t used to these kinds of gatherings, and I didn’t want her to feel ill-equipped at an event because she wasn’t dressed for it. My dad had done this kind of thing because he wanted to stamp his mark on someone. I was motivated by empathy, so it was completely different.

I scrolled through white dresses and black dresses looking for something she might like. There were a lot of options. I’d never considered the optics of buying something sexy before. If I chose something too sexy, she might think I just wanted arm candy—and while a part of me thought she might relish that role, it felt too soon to test the theory. Conversely, if I bought something tooconservative, she might think I wanted her to cover up or act differently. I didn’t.

Eventually I found something that looked right. It was shiny. Pretty. I picked it because the model in the picture was tilting her head back, doing the open-mouth laugh Caroline always did to make people look at her tits.

As if anyone needed encouragement.

Over my shoulder, Xan saw the dress I’d decided on and said, “I have some dice that are shiny like that.” That meant he approved.

I bought the dress, and after a quick call, the designer’s assistant agreed to have it delivered to Caroline’s in an hour. All that was left to do before the weekend was hope she got on the plane. The nice, normal, non-private plane, with carbon offsets pre-purchased.

CHAPTER 22

CAROLINE

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