Page 5 of Role Play
She chuckles. “Take that, Ms. Mazer.”
I return a hearty grin. “Okay, take care, Kirsten.”
She gives me a little wave goodbye as the corner of her lips curl down into a slight frown.Ah, shit.I feel bad if I hurt herfeelings, but I’m trying to spare her. If she only knew the real reason my dating life is nonexistent…
No one, and I meanno one, wants to date a professional escort.
chapter 2
Sora
Holy shit.There’s one left.
Papa Beans is always sold out of their legendary kitchen sink cookies, especially after the early lunch crowd. At 1:00 p.m. on a Friday, there’s zero chance of snagging a jumbo, kitchen sink cookie at one of New York City’s most treasured mom-and-pop coffeehouses,but I’ll be damned. There it is, looking so alluring with its perfect golden-brown edges, defying all odds. It has to be a sign.
I stare longingly into the bakery case, reading far too much into a cookie. Most of the time, I do my best to keep my hopes in check, but this means something. A message from above that my meeting today is going to be life-altering, groundbreaking, and dammit—the wreckage of my career endstoday. This is going to become my celebration cookie.
Let’s be honest, kitchen sink cookies are a child’s treat. Papa Beans throws miniature M&M’s in theirs to add some color. With pretzel pieces, toffee, three different types of chocolate chips and chunks, a drizzle of chocolate, and a sprinkling of crushed nuts—yes, they absolutely look like three differentdesserts got together and collectively vomited into one mega cookie. But there’s something about the busyness that I like. It reminds me of my brain lately. There are too many competing elements firing off at once. For my life, it’s detrimental, but for a cookie, the chaos is magic.
I flinch when my phone buzzes so powerfully, I’m worried it’s going to burn a hole right through my back pants pocket.Yeesh.“If only my vibrator performed with this kind of gusto,” I mumble to myself.
I whip my head around to ensure I don’t have an audience that could’ve heard that. All the café patrons are entranced in their conversations, seated around tiny, round wooden tables lining the back wall, and I’m presently the only person in line at the counter. I’ve been standing here patiently for a few minutes, just waiting for the barista texting by the espresso machines to stop smacking her bubblegum and acknowledge my existence.
With my phone now in hand, I see I missed my mother’s call. Instead of putting it away, I stare at the blank screen.Just give it a minute…she always calls twice.
This time, I answer the moment the screen lights up. “Hey, Mama.”
“Hi, love. What are you doing?”
“Oh, just embracing my last few moments of agonizing obscurity.”
Used to my quippy, and oftentimes cryptic wit, Mom pauses and clears her throat. I can picture the scowl on her face as she tries to piece together the puzzle.
“Obscurity? I’m confused. Do you have a date?”
I chuckle at the notion. Me, with a date? That would be newsworthy to my mother. She has my wedding details planned all the way down to the crystal napkin holders. Unfortunately for her, the only love I’m chasing is between the pages. First, get mycareer sorted. Then, there’s time for love, marriage, and children later.
“No.So much better than a date.Guess who I have a meeting with today?” After pulling my phone from my ear, I check the time. It’s 1:08. Not exactly polite, but still not quite ten past. It’s only rude to be late to a business meeting without a heads-up text or email at ten past. He still has some time.
“I’m lost.” She hems and haws into the phone, unable to match my enthusiasm. “Who are you meeting?”
“Take a guess.”
“No, thank you, Sora. You tell me so little about your life these days, guesses could range from a brand-new, free-range chicken farmer to another ghost hunter.”
Tucking my wallet under my arm, I press two fingers firmly against my temple. “I’m allergic to store-bought chicken?—”
“No, you’re not. You’ve been eating Tyson chicken nuggets just fine since you were in diapers.”
“—and Hepzibah isnota ghost hunter. She is a spiritual energy guide. Very professional.”
“She’s a con artist who showed up to your apartment with a bushel of sage, a shop vac, and an empty backpack. Not to mention she was wearing a Ghostbusters uniform.”
I cringe.Crap.I forgot Mom was over at my place that day when Hepzibah came over. “It wasn’t a uniform. It was overalls with a matching jacket. And it wasn’t Ghostbusters, per se. She’s just really into khaki.” My cheeks puff out before I let out a deep, exasperated breath.
“Mhmm.” I canseeher eyes rolling. “Real professional to charge you actual money for crystals made from Play-Doh.”
“For the millionth time, she was clearing the cluttered aura of my home to help me get through my writer’s block. And by the way, after she was done, I wrote four chapters that night and even?—”
