Page 25 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“Aaron and I have to go up and sign something,” Benny says. “We’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“And what? I just sit here like a rutabaga?”

“Think you can handle that?” he asks.

I try to think of a good retort, like something about rutabagas being awesome, or at least I’m not a banana, but before I can come up with anything, the doors are shutting, and I’m alone, aside from the driver up front on the other side of the privacy panel. He comes on the intercom and asks me if I need anything.

“I’m fine, thanks!” I say. Because I’m not a jerk like Benny.

I finish my fizzy water, then I pull out my phone and do a selfie where I’m making a jaded face at my limo environment. I send it to my girl gang.

And I sit back and wait.

A new song comes on Benny’s Pandora mix. Something by Blur.

I slide up and check his Pandora. We’re listening to a mix that Benny created called Radiohead radio. I got a lot of my pop music education that summer in Vegas. I especially got an education in Benny’s specific tastes via the playlists he’d play before and after rehearsals and performances from his seat of power as head of lights and audio.

The way Pandora works is that you pick a few songs and bands you like, and Pandora creates a station with a heaping helping of that exact music plus other songs it thinks you’d like, and you thumbs-up or thumbs-down those songs, allowing Pandora to become smarter about what songs to play.

I click into the station history, and all the usual ones he always liked are there, largely unchanged from ten years ago.

It’s here I get my brilliant idea: I add a few of his hated Dave Matthews songs as “seeds.”

Surely he still hates Dave Matthews Band! I switch the view display back to the normal screen and wait. Sure enough, a Dave Matthews song comes on. Benny would have a fit!

This probably shouldn’t make me as happy as it does.

I give it the ol’ thumbs-up and sit back. Two songs later it plays yet another Dave Matthews Band song. I enthusiastically thumbs-up that one, too. More of this, please! That’s what my thumbs-up says.

Rutabaga for the win, bitches!

Eventually, Benny and Aaron are back. The limo takes off again.

I wait excitedly, hoping Dave Matthews will come back on.

No such luck.

Never mind. Good things come to those who wait.

The rest of the ride is completed in phone-scrolling silence.

Twenty minutes and two loud-honking Saturday night traffic snarls later, the three of us are walking into a lovely and very chic restaurant done in an elegant style, all white finishings and silver crystal and potted palms. Beautiful people crowd into the bar area and linger over candlelit tables across in the dining room.

“Ah, there’s our party,” Benny says nonchalantly, gazing across the place.

I look at him, surprised. This sophisticated new Benny is really throwing me for a loop. Is it a natural thing that he grew into? Or is it something he has to concentrate on really hard? I suppose it’s nice for him in business and things, but I miss my old awkward Benny.

Somebody offers to take our coats. I keep mine. “Just in case I’m chilly,” I squeak.

“Are you ready to behave?” Benny asks me. “I’m expecting some convincing adoration. An altogether adoring wife.”

“Well, we know people are always at their most adoring when under duress,” I say.

He smiles. “That’s one of the things duress is good for—promoting adoration,” he informs me. “It’s one of my favorite uses of duress, in fact.”

“Ugh,” I say.

“Is that a yes?” He’s clearly enjoying bossing me around. It’s like I’m in a real-life drama of “Revenge of the Nerds.” Or more like, “Revenge of the Sullen and Antisocial Nerd From Your Past, Whom you Drunkenly Married.”

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