Page 105 of Naughty Nelle

CHAPTER 10

Sarah

Aloud knock-knock-knock at my door woke me in the morning just as I had finally gotten to sleep. My night had been restless, haunted by the memory of surrendering myself to a man who was so selfish and hurtful. How could I have been so needy? So stupid? The unwanted throbbing in my heart and between my legs had made it even more difficult to fall asleep. Groggy, I kicked off my covers, slipped on my plaid flannel bathrobe, and staggered to the door. Jo-Jo trailed behind me. I peered through the peephole. Lauren! What was she doing here? I’d never known her to be up before noon on a Saturday or venture east of Fifth Avenue. Her world was confined to the narrow rectangle bordered by Seventy-Ninth Street on the north, Fifty-Seventh Street on the south, Lexington Avenue on the east and Fifth Avenue on the west. Within this realm, was every designer store with Daddy’s credit card on file.

“Where have you been?” she asked, barging into my apartment. “I’ve left you a hundred messages.”

Ever since we’d been roommates at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), me, on a full scholarship, and her there thanks to Daddy’s substantial endowment, Lauren had always put her needs and desires above everyone else’s. Though she could be extremely generous and a lot of fun, she was quite demanding. Somehow, I put up with it, and we had remained friends as we both pursued careers in New York City. I was an executive assistant at a mid-size toy company though I aspired to one day be a toy designer. She was a “Brand Ambassador,” as she liked to call her job, to one of the hottest fashion designers in Manhattan, another one of Daddy’s clients. I assumed the “workaholic” was on the job even now, dressed head-to-toe in his clothes—perfectly ripped skinny jeans, a tight graphic tee, and spikey black leather ankle boots that made her a curvaceous 5’8” blonde instead of the petite 5’2” she actually was.

“You stood me up last night,” she said, heading straight to the kitchen.

I trailed behind her. Without asking, she pulled out a Diet Coke from the fridge and began drinking it. As we padded back to the living room, I wondered—should I tell her the truth? She was my best friend. In fact, my only friend in the city other than Fernando, my pal at work. My other RISD classmates had scattered all over the country, and I was no longer in contact with the small-town Pennsylvania kids I had grown up with.

“I had a date,” I said glumly.

Lauren’s turquoise eyes grew wide. “You’re kidding!”

Part of me wanted to punch her. Like she could have one and I couldn’t.

“With who?” Her voice sounded snarky, like she was challenging me.

“Some guy.”

“Hel-lo-O. Name please.”

I hesitated; I didn’t really want to talk about it. “Ari Golden.”

Her mouth fell to the floor. “Ari Golden? The Ari Golden? Get out!”

Slamming her Diet Coke on the vintage trunk that doubled as a coffee table, Lauren whipped out her iPhone from her monstrous red Birken bag (a Christmas gift from her mother) and hastily typed something.

“Look at this,” she said, suggesting that I should march over to her. Truthfully, the less I knew about this creep, the better.

I trudged over to Lauren and peeked at the screen. Ari’s beautiful face filled it. I could feel him staring at me, his piercing blue eyes penetrating my body. Despite my loathing of him, a tingle rippled through me. Damn him for having this effect on me.

The headline read: New York’s Sexiest Billionaire.

Lauren scrolled down and started to read aloud. “Ari Golden, Chairman and CEO of Golden Inter­national…Esti­mated Worth: 1.6 Billion Dollars…#40 on the Forbes List…Age: 32…”

Whoa! He had a limo with a bar, wore expensive clothes, had a predilection for fine wine and dining…but I had no idea he was this rich. Holy shit!

Lauren continued to scroll down and spout more info. “Charities: Meds Without Borders (Founder)…Pet Peeve: People who invade my privacy…Favorite Saying: Imagine and dreams will come true.

I always said: Some things are best left to the imagination. I wished I’d never met him. I wished I’d never fucked him. I wished…I wished…Sarah, just admit it…I wished he was mine!

“Sarah, do you know how he made his fortune?” asked Lauren, snapping me out of my wishful thinking.

Was she testing me or something? Truthfully, I had tried to google him last night before I went to bed, but my damn Internet connection was down again. And I didn’t own a fancy smartphone with Internet access like Lauren’s. Mine was one of those yesterday’s news clunkers with a $19.98 basic monthly plan. The kind you had to convert numbers into letters for texting. I was saving up to buy an iPhone, but right now I couldn’t afford the exorbitant cost or to add the hundred dollar service fee to my already high monthly cost of living. Between my low paying job and mother’s condition, I could barely make ends meet as it was.

Lauren cut into my thoughts. “Okay. Time’s up. His company invented Dermadoo! That miracle anti-wrinkle cream that’s so hard to get. You’ve got to get me some!”

I hardly knew the man—in fact, I was never going to see him again—and Lauren was already asking for favors. So like her.

While I digested all of this information, Lauren sauntered back to the kitchen and returned with yet another Diet Coke. I guess it was on her raw diet.

“Did you sleep with him?” Lauren asked, not one to hold back.

Silence.

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