Dirty Work - Regina Kyle Page 0,43
to have heard my none-too-subtle ex–best friend. “And he’s not my man.”
“Oh, really?” She leans in and at least does me the courtesy of turning down the volume. “Do you go on movie dates with all your clients? Or only the superhot ones with asses you could crack an egg on?”
I sneak a peek at Jake’s butt. She’s right. The damn thing’s so tight, you probably could crack an egg on it. Or bounce quarters. Too bad the guy’s wound tighter than the expensive, ultrathin Piaget watch he’s wearing, too. Still, I’m tempted to try the egg thing—or the quarter thing—or both—later. Purely for purposes of scientific research, of course. For the good of womankind.
I sigh. “He does have a nice booty, doesn’t he?”
“Nice doesn’t begin to describe it. He’s got some serious junk in that trunk.”
We dissolve into giggles like a couple of tweens at a boyband concert, and I promise to fill her in on everything the next time we get together for a girls’ night, as long as she does the same. When we reach Charles Street, the four of us part company, since Mia and Paul are going uptown while Jake and I are heading downtown to Tribeca.
It’s a nice night, not as unbearably hot as it’s been lately and with a light breeze coming off the river, and we’ve got Roscoe with us, which makes taking the subway out of the question, so we decide to backtrack and walk the Hudson River Greenway rather than catch an Uber back to Jake’s.
“I had an interesting conversation with Paul,” he says as we enter the greenway. The waterfront walkway and bike path is packed with people, many of them clearly moviegoers with the same idea as us, based on the blankets and baskets they’re carrying.
“Did he hate the movie as much as you?” I quip.
“I told you, I didn’t hate it. I liked it. The scene in the police station with Ferris’s sister and that biker dude was hysterical. And the principal was a riot, too. I just have a different take on the whole Ferris-as-hero-or-antihero thing than you do, that’s all.”
“I guess we can agree to disagree,” I concede. I’m not going to let a stupid movie—even a childhood favorite—ruin an otherwise pleasant evening. One that’s hopefully going to get even more pleasant once we get back to his place and get naked. “What did Paul have to say that was so interesting?”
“He told me you used to work with him and Mia.”
“Oh, that.” I roll my eyes. If you asked me, my too-long stint at DK&G is just about the least interesting thing about me.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a lawyer?”
“It wasn’t important. It still isn’t.”
“Not important? It was a huge part of your life for a long time. Paul told me you were on the verge of making partner when you quit to start Odds & Errands.”
“Emphasis on the ‘was.’”
“What happened?”
I shoot him a side-eyed look. “What do you mean what happened?”
“Something must have happened for you to give all that up.”
Something did, but it’s not something I’m ready to discuss with Jake. Especially not in the middle of a public park surrounded by strangers. When—if—the times comes for this discussion, it’s going to between me and Jake, not me, Jake and a horde of walkers, joggers, cyclists and the occasional Rollerblader.
Besides, my breakup with Dale may have been the catalyst for my professional about-face. But if it wasn’t that, it would have been something else. Looking back, with the wisdom of hindsight, I can see that it was only a matter of time before my career imploded. I’m not cut out for the life of a high-powered, big-city lawyer. I was just waiting for the axe to fall.
“Give up what?” I ask. “All the late nights at the office? The weekends? The takeout food, eaten at my desk?”
I’m on a roll now. “Should I go on? Because I can.”
“Hard work takes sacrifices. But weren’t they worth it? You were on the edge of achieving everything you worked so hard for. And now you’re—”
“I’m what?” I stop dead in my tracks. “An errand girl?”
Paul’s words from earlier still rankle. But the thought that Jake’s thinking them too hurts even more.
He stops with me, pulling Roscoe up short and forcing a late-night jogger to veer around us. “I didn’t say that.”
“No. But you were about to. Or something pretty damned close to it.”
All my anger from before comes flooding back. He doesn’t understand