Chelle
Janette’s been in the conference room with the potential clients-the skateboarding stars from the group Skate 32-all afternoon.
I thought they’d be younger for some reason. I guess because she described them that way. But they’re more of that Peter Pan, won’t grow up, type. Like pushing thirty but still dressing and acting like they’re sixteen. I saw no signs of professionalism or business-sense from them when I brought in drinks and snacks.
But I guess that’s why they need us.
It’s close to five when Janette shows up at my desk. She appears pale and sweaty, which makes me stand to meet her, worried something has gone wrong.
“Oh my God, I think I ate something bad for lunch,” she says. “I just puked my guts out in the bathroom-sorry for the TMI. Listen, I need to get home. I can’t take these guys out tonight.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll understand,” I say quickly. “I will let them know you had to cancel.”
“No,” she says sharply, clearly annoyed with me. “We need to get them signed. You have to take them out. Show them the town-use that list you made me.””Oh, uh…yeah. Okay.”
“But bring a date. These guys seem a little randy. I don’t feel comfortable sending you out with them alone.”
A date? I look around the office wildly, but as usual, I’m the only one still here on a Friday night.
“Bring a guy. Say he’s your boyfriend. I mean, I don’t think they’re dangerous, but I don’t want things to be awkward for you, okay?”
Yipes. Maybe Zane will go with me. Or would they know he’s not a boyfriend because we look too much alike?
She clutches her stomach. “Oh God, I’ve got to go. Let them know you’ll pick them up at their hotel in an hour or two. Is your car clean? Take a cab if it’s not.” She groans. “I really have to go. You close this deal, and I’ll make you a Junior Publicist.”
Wow. Okay. That’s an offer I can’t turn down.
“I will close the deal,” I promise, even though I have maybe twenty percent confidence in my ability to do so. I mean, she didn’t even invite me in the conference room with them today, and I’m the one who put the presentation together.
This could be my chance to prove myself. Finally become a publicist instead of the damn assistant. I square my shoulders and march into the conference room. “Hey, guys.”
“The assistant!” One of them calls out like he’s excited to see me. “What are we still doing here, Assistant? I thought you were taking us out.”
“Ooh, she’s our date for the night? Not bad. Better than Pant-suit.” He jerks his thumb toward the door. I don’t think Janette would mind the moniker.
Doggy-farts. I definitely need a date tonight.
I try not to think of that crumpled note in my purse. I have absolutely no plans to call Nikolai. Ever. I mean, never, ever.
“Janette said you’d take us wherever we want to go on the company dime, so I’m thinking we want the most expensive sushi restaurant in the city. Can you hook us up, Assistant?”
“Um…” My mind races, not just trying to figure out which restaurant to take them to but also reeling from the complete understanding of how ill-equipped I am to handle these guys.
They are definitely rowdy. Totally disrespectful.
I can see why Janette thought I needed a chaperone. But I can’t go full-bitch mode-my usual go-to when my back is up against a wall-because I’m supposed to close this deal. I draw myself up. “My name is Chelle, call me Chelle,” I say firmly. “What are your names?”
“Tiny,” the short one says, holding up his hand.
“Randy,” another one says, making the word sound suggestive.
“Is that your name or an adjective?”
He grins because I got his joke. “Both.”
“Great. And you?” I raise my brows at the third guy.
“Bones,” he answers.
“Bones.” I bite back any commentary I might have on their names.
“Okay, Tiny, Randy, and Bones. I can definitely take you for good sushi, but Janette had reservations at an upscale Mexican restaurant. It’s very popular-”
“Nope,” Bones interrupts. “We want sushi.”
“Expensive sushi,” Tiny chimes in.
I manage not to roll my eyes. “Okay, I’ll see if I can get us a reservation. You guys can head back to your hotel to get ready for dinner, and I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I don’t need to get ready,” Randy says.
“We don’t have to dress up or anything, do we?” Tiny complains.
“I need to get ready,” I say firmly. “Give me your cell, and I’ll call you when I get to your hotel.”
Randy gives me his number, and I manage to get the guys out, then collapse into my desk chair and groan. I try to get reservations at the three best sushi restaurants and strike out with all three. It’s a Friday night. Not even throwing around our firm’s name does any good.
Crap on a cracker. I don’t have a date or a place to go.
I draw a measured breath and pull the crumpled note from Nikolai from my purse. It’s a bad idea. The worst, really.
Things could go very wrong, and these are potential clients I need to convince to sign with us. But I’m really not sure I can handle them on my own.
I flatten the note on my desk and pick up my phone. Here goes the worst plan ever.
I dial Nikolai’s number. He picks up on the second ring.
“I did not expect you to call.”
“Um, I didn’t expect me to call either. I’m not calling for-um. Yeah. I’m not calling for that. What we did last night. I need a huge, huge favor.””You’re calling me for a favor?” He sounds surprised. I knew this was a bad idea. “I believe you already owe me one for giving you that ring back.”
“I know. I totally know. I just… ack.”
“What is it?” His voice sharpens a little like he thinks I’m in danger or something.
“My boss got sick, and I’m supposed to take these guys out tonight and show them a good time and convince them to sign with us, but they’re a little rowdy, and I sort of need a fake boyfriend again.”
“How many rowdy guys?”
“Three. They’re skateboarders. And they want the best sushi in town, but I don’t have a reservation anywhere, so I have to figure something out.”
“Okay. I’ll be your bodyguard. What time?”
Unexpected relief sweeps through me. “You’ll do it?”
“What time, Chelle?”
“I’m supposed to pick them up by seven at the Hotel Grand. I have to-”
“I’ll pick you up at 6:35,” he cuts in.
“Oh. You will? Do you have room for all of us in your Tesla?”
“I’ll bring an SUV.”
“Um-”
“Bye, Chelle.” He ends the call before I can say anything else.
I try to ignore the way my insides seem to pop and fizz with excitement that he’s coming as my date. Or pleasure at the way he says my name.
Chelle Goldberg, you are adorable. I remember the words before my eyes seek the proof of them on the note.
It’s okay that I called him.
It’s just for work.
Only because I was in a pickle and had no other choice.
Nikolai
I text Chelle when I’m outside her apartment, and she comes jogging out in another pencil skirt and knee-high boots. She climbs in the front seat smelling of some honey-warm scent that makes me want to lick every inch of her.
“I like the boots.”
“I like the jacket,” she says, noting the black suit jacket I wore over my lavender button down. When you have as many tats as I do, you have to dress up a little to be taken seriously. I learned that art from Ravil and Maxim who always look like they’re stepping off the cover of a men’s magazine. Electricity zings between us-a low-level excitement like we’re on a real date and not some strange work-related favor.
“Thank you for doing this.” She sounds a little breathless.
“There will be a price,” I tell her, letting my lips kick up, so she doesn’t totally freak out. I don’t mind her being a little on edge with me.
She should be. The truth is, I am dangerous. I operate using the theater of fear, so making people think I’m safe would be a mistake. Her brother owes me a ton of money, and I can’t let him off the hook for it.
She looks down and rummages in her purse and pulls out her phone. “I need to get us a reservation somewhere,” she says. “Ideas? They wanted high-end sushi.”
“They’re just throwing their weight around to see how willing you are to cater to their demands. Do they think they’re rock stars?”
“Clearly.”
“Let’s go to Lucky Roll.” I name the most expensive sushi place I’ve heard of. Plates start at three hundred bucks. I only know of it because Maxim and Sasha are fans and have brought us out before.”I already tried there. They said they don’t have reservations open on a weekend for months.”
“I can get us in,” I say, with only half-confidence it’s true. I saw Maxim grease the maitre d’s palm to get us in last time. It might work again tonight. It’s worth a try. Of course, if I fail, it could be awkward.
I drive to the hotel, and she texts her would-be clients to come down.
The moment I see them, I relax a bit. I can handle these assholes, no problem. Now I understand why she called me and not someone else.
They are from the street like me.
I get out of the SUV for introductions and Chelle follows my lead.
“Nikolai, this is Bones, Tiny, and Randy. Guys, this is my boyfriend, Nikolai.”
They take in my tats and seem to approve, each giving me some slapping fist-bumping kind of handshake that I roll with.
“Niko!” Bones says. “Can I call you Niko?”
“No you may not,” I answer immediately.
“Oh, schwang!” Tiny chortles-whatever that means-as Randy makes a gong sound.
I herd the guys into the backseat of the SUV and drive to Lucky Roll.
“So I heard you’re big porn stars,” I say with a straight face.
“What?” Tiny asks
“Hell, yeah.” Bones grins. “Where do you think I got my name?”
Chelle groans loudly while the guys in the back chuckle.
“No, really. What is it you do? You’re skateboarders?”
“Yep. Youtubers. We have a channel with twenty million followers,” Randy says.
I whistle. “Impressive. So why do you need a publicist?” I glance in the rearview mirror as I drive.
“Yeah, I don’t think we do,” Bones asserts, folding his arms over his chest.
Randy just smirks.
Tiny shrugs. “We have an online store that we want to expand. Maybe franchise. We need branding and shit.”
I nod. “Cool.”
Chelle pivots in her seat. “What did you think about what Janette presented today?”
I check their faces in the rearview mirror. None of them seem that impressed, but I also get the sense they’re playing Chelle. Milking her for the expensive dinner and entertainment while they make up their minds.
I find a parking place in the underground lot beneath the restaurant, and we take the elevator up to the top floor. The restaurant appears packed. “Give me a minute,” I say to Chelle and walk over to the host station. I pull out a wad of hundred dollar bills and peel four off the top to hold between my fingers.
I show the money to the maitre d. “Listen, my girlfriend has these VIPs in town, and they insisted on your restaurant for dinner.” The guys aren’t dressed appropriately for a nice restaurant, which is part of why I called them VIPs. Hopefully their presumed celebrity status will give them a pass on their appearance. “I know you’re packed, but is there any way you could find us a table for five?”
The guy looks down at the money and then back at me. “Certainly, sir.” He smoothly takes the bills from me. “I have a private table for you with the best view of the city. Give me just a few minutes to put it together.”
I nod and he disappears.
When I walk back, Chelle’s golden eyes are locked on my face with a sort of startled expectation.
I give her a nod and watch her small frame relax a bit.
Taking care of her feels good. I suddenly wish I was here alone with Chelle. On a real date. Considering I never go on dates, it’s a strange desire. But I also never stalk women, and I’ve got Chelle firmly in my sights now.
The host returns and escorts us to the table, and the guys proceed to order the most expensive drinks and sushi on the menu. Chelle wisely chooses to stick with water.
I make conversation by asking questions and keeping them engaged. The kind of shit I do every Friday night at the games. The liquor makes them rowdier, but they’re not unmanageable.
“So what do you do, Nikolai?” Randy asks.
I meet his gaze steadily. “I am Russian mafiya.”