Page 3 of Icing on Top
“It’s better than spending the night at the office,” he responded pointedly. “Besides, where else will all the wayward souls without families to spend time with go? You guys should join me,” he suggested.
“Why on earth would we want to do that?” Linc asked.
“Maybe because the three of you have to find dates for the New Year’s Eve party, and I know you haven’t,” Joel reminded us.
I groaned. “Why do we have to bring dates? It’s our fucking party.”
“Because Triple Tech urges their employees to have a healthy home/work balance, and as the owners, you should lead by example,” he replied. Another reason we paid him so muchwas that he wasn’t afraid to hurt our feelings and told it to us straight. Often, his input in company policy and projects was considered and valued. He made sure to keep us grounded. “Honestly, you three work too damn much. If you ask me, you need to start living a little. Go out. Meet some nice girls and start thinking about your future outside of work.”
Ben scoffed. “We don’t have the time to maintain relationships right now.”
“That’s my point,” Joel lectured, “make the time.” We didn’t respond, and he sighed. This wasn’t the first time he had this discussion with us recently. “Just think about it. You must have dates; most eligible women in Sunflower Falls will be at the club tonight. Maybe you won’t find the women of your dreams, but you could at least find some suitable women to bring to the party.” He left, his words hanging in the air. As much as I didn’t like it, we did need to find dates.
“Why don’t we hire a few discreet escorts for the night?” Ben suggested. “It would be the easiest solution to our problem with the least effort.”
“I can see the headlines now,” Linc said sarcastically. “Triple Tech owners hire prostitutes.”
“I have to agree with Linc. I don’t see that being a viable option,” I said.
“Hey, what about a dating app?” Linc suggested. “One of the baristas at Caffeinated Charm gave me a card for this new dating site called Tempted Hearts. We could make a profile together and find one girl to come as our date. Strictly platonic and just for one night. That would solve our problem without being... scandalous.”
“How is that any different than getting escorts?” Ben asked.
“We wouldn’t be paying this girl,” Linc replied.
“Come on, guys,” I said. “How hard can it be to go out and meet a few girls? I think we should go to the club tonight like Joel suggested.”
They both looked at me silently for several seconds. “You’re serious,” Linc finally said with surprise.
“I am. It’s the most conventional way to solve our problem. We don’t have to fall madly in love with them. We don’t even have to like them all that much. We just need to be able to tolerate them for a handful of nights leading up to the party and then the party itself.”
“I mean, I guess it’s worth a try,” Ben agreed.
“Good. Then it’s settled. We’ll finish up here and then head to the club.” I grabbed my sandwich, what was left of Linc’s, and Ben’s salad and threw them in the trash. “We’re also going to get a decent dinner.”
Once upon a time, we went to clubs and partied our fair share. This should be simple.
This was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. For one, the club was filled with just barely twenty-one-year-olds. These are the members of society who still think they’re invincible and don’t have many responsibilities. While we may have been these people once, we were far beyond this scene— over a decade beyond. Secondly, we were recognized when we stepped through the doors, and young hopefuls have been flocking to us ever since. That should have made attaining our goals easier. Unfortunately, we were looking for a more... classy type of woman.
Joel approached our table and took the empty seat. “I can see you judging everyone in here from across the bar,” he chastised.
“We aren’t trying to judge,” I defended. “But I think this was a mistake.”
A blonde in a short blue dress fell into my lap just then. “Hey, hot stuff,” she purred. “My friend told me you’re one of the richest men in town.”
“I might be,” I replied as I tried to remove her from my lap. A feat I was finding difficult as she had latched herself to me like a baby monkey. I looked over and saw her girlfriends giggling at her behind their hands.
“What will it take to get you to take me somewhere a bit more quiet?” she asked as she pawed at my tie.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” she said proudly.
Jesus. I was fifteen years older than her and was a million different life experiences more mature.
“About eight years,” I replied, finally getting her to her feet.
“Oh, come on, sexy,” she coaxed. “Everyone knows younger is better.”
