Page 60 of Rewrite the Rules

“I think we established that.”

“No, I mean you were going to lose your virginity wearingthat?! What the hell? You look like you’re about to get on the elliptical. Oh my god, you’re wearing old faithful, aren’t you?”

Crap.Old faithful is my favorite white bra that I’ve had since freshman year. It’s a little worn, a little plain and outdated, but it fits me perfectly. D-cups are way too roomy for me, but I spill out of some Cs. Old faithful is a perfect blend between the two as if it were made just for me. Every woman knows that when you find a bra that hugs you right, you wear it to death.

All four of them bust out laughing as my cheeks heat to a hundred degrees.Shit.I didn’t even think of that. Maybe I am already far too comfortable with Joel. Was I supposed to get dolled up? Tessa didn’t write me any rules for that.

“I don’t think Joel really minds that sort of thing,” I reason.

“Did you ever find out if he has a dick?” Mani raises her brow. I respond with one sheepish nod.Uh, yeah. I think it qualifies as one and a half.“Then, he minds.”I look around to several nodding heads. In this, they’re all in agreement.

“Since we’re on the subject, I actually do have some questions.” I grab the remote and turn off the television. I could probably watch a few episodes of our favorite HBO series and learn a thing or two, but this isn’t a fiction book, TV, movies, or porn. I need some raw, real-life questions answered from my friends who have far more experience than I.

“What should I do if I’ve never had sex before and Joel has a penis that’s roughly the size of a Louisville slugger?” I blink at their slack-jawed, shocked faces. “I’m not even exaggerating that much.”

Four pairs of eyes nearly pop right out of their skulls before they all start chiming in with suggestions and warnings.

And just like that—it’s officially Friday night—girls’ night. Samosas, sangria,Sex and the City, and apparently my sex education.

twenty-one

Joel

Felices is an angsty little shit today. He brushes up against me, not out of affection, but as a warning. He’s as pent up as I am, but unfortunately for him no relief is coming. I’ve searched for the past year, there are no female F-1 Savannah cats available to keep him company. He’ll have to settle for a walk as soon as I’m done with this phone call that I’m trying to hurry along.

“Steve.” I drop my phone on my fluffy comforter after pressing the speaker button. “Aren’t you supposed to be drunk off piña coladas learning to hula or some shit like that? I thought we had the conversation about letting me handle the portfolio as I see fit.”

Steve grumbles into the phone about being sick of Hawaii. His wife Alice is living out her retirement dream, soaking up the sun, moving even slower than island time. Steve on the other hand has the anxiety levels of a front-row audience member at Cirque Du Solei. He’s on the edge of his seat bracing for shit to hit the fan.

“We have an opportunity to distinguish ourselves with a perfectly performing portfolio. What is your attachment to Rychess?”

Myperfectly performing portfolio. “What is your issue? The overall returns look good.”

“But the investors have questions about the outlier. Rychess is a money pit, surely you can see that. Eight years without turning a significant profit. Let them go in peace, Joel. We can find the CEO another gig.”

“And what about all the employees? What about what they’ve built?”

“Scrap the technology and sell it in pieces, that’s the best route to recover some funds.”

Jesus.Scrap it for parts like a rundown rusted Impala? “I’m close friends with the founder, Steve. I’m not doing that.” Felices jumps on the bed and stares at me menacingly. The slits in his bulging yellow eyes say ‘walk me now or face the consequences’.

“Look, Lewis—I know you’re some kid wonder hotshot, but I’ve been in this business a lot longer than you. When you start making decisions based on anything other than the bottom line, your company will fail. I made that mistake one too many times which is why I had to hire some pretty-boy East Coaster to come save my ass.”

“Thanks for that,” I chide. My left eye twitches. Kid wonder hotshot? How’d I get in business bed with such an ass?

“My point is, you’ve got the muscle. But do you have the endurance? Investors don’t want to play the short game, they want companies that will deliver on dividends long-term. Rychess isn’t capable. Make the smart decision. Cut ’em loose. The money pool belongs to the companies that can do something with it.”

Instead of telling Steve to shove it up his ass, I tell him I’ll think about it. Rychess is my blind spot. But maybe I don’t mind. I’m all about exceptions lately.

Felices’s furry face is suddenly in mine as his massive furry paw smacks me across the cheek. Being slapped by a cat that’s pulled in its claws isn’t painful…just emasculating.

“Are you kidding me right now, you furry asshole?” I push him off the bed but he’s unbothered as he lands gracefully on all fours with a light thud. “Don’t act like this when Adler gets here, you handsome little monster.”

Speaking of which…

I pull out my phone again.

Me:Do you want to do dinner tonight?

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