Page 37 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

I give her a dismissive wave. Because, no.

“So sucks,” Noelle says, collapsing into the seat next to me.

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it. You know me, I’m all about resilience.” I raise a finger up in the air. “‘Instead of wallowing, we Pinoys pick ourselves up with a smile and keep going.’ That’s what my mom always says.” Mom loves to talk up the determination of our peeps.

“You do love a challenge,” Noelle agrees.

Unlike Benny, my girlfriends think that my wind chime idea is hilarious, as well as my idea for a giant portrait of myself to be hung in the living room.

“You should totally do it!” Vicky says.

“I don’t exactly have time to sit for a portrait,” I say.

“Give me a picture of yourself and I’ll have somebody at the makers studio do it,” Vicky says. “We’ll make it really big and outrageous and charge it to him! I’ll handle it. I love this kind of project!”

Noelle snorts. “We know you do, Vicky. Dog throne, anyone?”

“The whole point of this is to get me out of there, not start decorating the place.”

“Well, either way, you’ll be making him use one or two thousand dollars out of his vast wealth to commission some original art,” she says. “He gave you a green light, did he not?”

“Can you make it diamond-encrusted?” I joke. “Have me wearing a tiara in it, and there are real diamonds in the tiara?”

“How about cubic zirconia-encrusted and we say it’s diamonds?” she says.

I’m laughing now.

“I know,” Mia says, “do the fake diamond-studded portrait and have it sent to his place with a fake invoice that says it cost millions of dollars. That would be hilarious.”

“He did say go crazy, did he not?” Vicky asks me.

I can’t help but smile. Vicky loves her art projects. She scrolls through her phone and finds a photo of me from my redhead phase, which I veto, and then she finds a good bunhead one and I give it the big thumbs-up. Why not?

“New idea,” Mia says. “Francine needs to have a lavish party at his penthouse and invite all of us so that we can all observe him up close, and observe him interacting with Francine, and then we’ll all regroup and have more informed discussions about this situation.”

I find I don’t like the idea. I don’t want this complicated situation made into some kind of a gal pal parlor game…even though, why should I care?

“Fly in some blue crab and Trenton tomato pies!” Mia says, and everybody groans because she is always on a New Jersey pizza cuisine.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what his place looks like,” Noelle says. “Is it a super dude place or did he hire a designer? Is it sentimental, full of mementos?”

“Hmmm.” I fold my arms, trying to decide. All I know is that it would feature at least a few Star Trek things.

“Now I want to know too,” Vicky says. “You have to have the party, and also, I’ll bring Smuckers over to meet him. Smuckers will totally growl at anybody he doesn’t like. Smuckers is a great judge of character.”

“Benny is allergic to dogs,” I tell her. “Or else that would be a good idea.”

* * *

Alverson picksme up at the appointed time.

It turns out that Benny lives in West Chelsea, which is one of my favorite areas to take visitors to, full of amazing museums and fun-but-pricey restaurants. It’s got the High Line, too, a magical park built on elevated tracks that went out of use.

But my eyes nearly pop out of my head when Alverson pulls up in front of the Zaha Hadid building.

There must be some mistake! The Hadid building seems too fabulous and otherworldly for somebody I know to live in.

Alverson comes around and opens the door. I get out. “You’re telling me Benny liveshere?”

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