Page 5 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“He will not be thrilled to see me,” I mumble.

“Who could not be thrilled to see you?” Noelle asks.

“Benny could.”

“So he was your co-worker?”

“He was the backend tech guy for the show I danced in, completely nerdy and scowly and antisocial, and I was this out-of-control social butterfly at the time and…it was weird between us.”

“You didn’t get along?” Noelle asks.

I think about this for a while, watching all the people go up and down the hallway to all their various courthouse appointments. “I actually had a crush on him. It was one of those weird sorts of crushes. I mean, hesowasn’t my type at the time. And he definitely didn’t return my affections. I really, really annoyed him. I guess I didn’t know what to do with that, so I would kind of turn it up to eleven with him. Sort of like poking at a beehive. It was a kind of compulsion. I was a little bit fascinated with him.”

“Is it possible that on one night you weren’t haterators?” she asks.

I’m staring at the piece of paper. “Umm…it’s possible,” I say.

“Gulp,” Noelle says, waiting for more. “Do tell.”

I trace the little fiberglass lines in the molded chair. “We had a drunken escapade.”

“Like a one-night stand?” she asks.

“No, we didn’t have sex. It was more that we were both really drunk at the closing night party, and we had this kind of fun, wild night together. Benny was singing this really hilarious version of ‘Alejandro’—the whole show was built around ‘Alejandro,’ that Lady Gaga song—and Benny singing it, in my mind, it was the most wonderful thing ever, and then there was more tequila. And then Benny and I were somewhere else, having energetic conversations, and everything was fun and funny and new and exciting. Then I woke up in his bed the next morning.”

“But you didn’t…”

“No, I had my clothes on. He was on the couch. I tried to make the moves on him, though. It was so…Uhh! He was not into it!” I cringe at the memory of him peeling my hands from his chest like they were giant barnacles. “I was so mortified when I remembered what I’d done! The show was over anyway and I definitely didn’t want to hang around waiting to see whatever snarky, annoyed thing he’d have to say. Or worse, his pity or disgust. I got out of there as soon as I woke up.”

“You left?”

“Well, the show was over and I was mortified! I moved up my plane ticket, even.”

“Is it possible he liked you?”

“No way. Benny was all about computer games and robotics and making it clear I annoyed him. Or vexed him—that’s the word he’d use for things that annoyed him. ‘This router is entirely vexing,’” I say in my exasperated Benny voice. “‘This router is ninety-eight point five percent pure vexaciousness!’”

“Come on, Vexerella,” Noelle says, pulling me up from the seat. “I have to get back to my route, and you have a husband to find.”

“A husband,” I say, following her to the ancient courthouse elevator.

“I can’t believe you were married all these years and didn’t even know it! That is so you.” She hits the down button and turns to me. “But in a good way,” she adds in the face of my frown.

“If I’m even married to him. Maybe this is just somebody’s idea of a joke?” I say hopefully. “Maybe one of our mutual friends from the show out there arranged it.”

“A bit much for a joke,” she says. “Filing fraudulent documents and so forth.”

“I have to fix it,” I say. “This tour is everything.”

Married to Benny!

We step out onto the busy sidewalk. It’s late April, that blissful time before the heat starts baking the dumpsters.

“You thought he was Filipino,” she observes. She knows about my trick, that whenever I see somebody who I think is Filipino, I ask “Pinoy?” and if they look confused, I know that they aren’t, but if they grin and engage me, it’s a connection and maybe even a fun conversation.

“I thought maybe,” I say.

“I completely forgot you had spent time in Vegas,” Noelle observes once we’re in her mail truck and on our way back. “You never talk about it.”

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