Page 18 of The Fix Up

She smiled, and Ben felt warmth in his chest. “What’s your natural habitat?”

“At home on my couch in a pair of fleece pants with a good beer and a bad sci-fi flick.”

“A bad sci-fi flick?”

“One of those old ones that’s so bad it’s wonderful.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen any of those.”

“I mourn the depths of your deprivation.”

“I’ll make you a deal then,” she said, leaning closer. “Get through this event using all the skills we just talked about and I’ll join you for a movie night featuring extra-buttery popcorn and an extra-awful movie.”

“Deal,” he said, buoyed by the thought of snuggling up on the couch with Holly in skimpy pajamas and her lips glistening with butter. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned and started across the room, conscious of her eyes on him. He made an effort to lock gazes with the first person he encountered, offering up the handshake Holly had coached him on—sort of a two-handed maneuver with a hand pump combined with a shoulder clap. It felt more natural than he expected it to, though not nearly as good as it had felt when he’d practiced with Holly in his office.

“Glen, good to see you again,” he said, shaking the man’s hand and offering up a smile that felt a little too forced. “How’s the wife doing?”

The man frowned. “My name’s Pete. And I’m not married.”

“Right,” Ben said, regrouping. “Kids? Pets?”

“I have a ficus tree.”

“Excellent. Uh, I hope it’s thriving?”

“Sure,” the man said, glancing around as though looking for an escape from the conversation. Ben couldn’t blame him. “Uh, actually, it’s been dropping leaves a bit lately.”

“Oh? Yes, I do believe that’s common with Ficus Benamina or weeping figs. It can happen if temperatures dip below sixty degrees Fahrenheit or sixteen Celsius.” Ben heard the words coming out of his own mouth and knew they weren’t what Holly had in mind when she coached him on witty cocktail party banter, but somehow he seemed unable to stop himself. “It can also be a symptom of spider mites. Treatment with a bit of oil from the Azadirachta indica should clear things right up.”

Pete blinked at him, then nodded. “Wow, thanks. I’ll have to try that—uh, Azardir?—”

“Neem oil,” Ben said, wondering if Holly was still watching him. If so, maybe he’d get lucky and she’d think he was discussing the fine points of business infrastructure instead of the care and feeding of a houseplant. God, he was such a dork.

But Pete didn’t seem to mind too much, and he even shook his hand again. “Thanks, man. Wow, you’re a little different than the last CEO.”

“Try not to tell anyone,” Ben said, and he turned back toward the bar. Pete didn’t know it, but he’d just paid Ben the best compliment he could imagine.

Ben made it a few more feet toward the drink table when a heavyset man in a gray suit stepped in front of him, his face flushed with exertion or maybe too much vodka.

“Ben! Ben my boy, come over here and meet some of the partners.”

The man latched onto his arm, and Ben tried to remember if he’d ever met the guy before. He honestly had no idea whether he was about to meet business partners, tennis partners, or sex partners. This was the problem with everyone dressing in dark suits and ties. They all looked the same, and Ben had no frame of reference.

The guy dragged him toward a big group of men who all wore some variation of the dark suit and tie, and Ben wished like hell Langley Enterprises had invested in a slew of nametags at functions like this.

The first man hoisted his drink in the air and saluted Ben before turning back to the group. “Everyone, this is the new CEO of Langley Enterprises, Ben Langley. Lyle’s his old man, but Lyle’s stepping down to take over Langley’s international arm. Ben, I’d like you to meet Carl, Jim, Harold, Gary, James, Floyd, Devon, and Jim.”

“Uh, two Jims and one James?”

“That’s right.”

Ben nodded, shaking hands with each man in turn and wondering what these people did and why there were no female executives in the ranks. He was trying to place the first man, knowing they’d probably met countless times before and wishing he was better at placing faces.

“Shame you couldn’t join us out on the course today,” the man said, and Ben nodded, grateful to at least have golf as a reference point.

“Right, well, I’m sure my dad showed you a great time out there. You played the Hunter Farms course?”

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