Page 13 of The Cruiser
Their solidarity makes my heart swell, and it doesn’t feel like fourteen years have passed since we were roomies at Stanford. With my flair for events, June’s cooking skills, and Flynn’s ability to talk anyone into anything, the parties at our Palo Alto house were legendary. We ruled the Stanford dating and entertainment scene. When we went out, we went out together, and other women would throw up their hands in surrender whenever our trio descended on a party. As on old boyfriend once joked, With you three, all a man’s gotta do is pick his poison.
Back then, I was always the dumper, never the dumpee. Maybe that’s why I feel strangely unhinged.
“And what about work?” June asks, with her usual one-track mind. There’s a reason why she’s a millionaire. “With Vaughn away, can you handle everything?”
I perk up, suddenly remembering. “Oh my god. Speaking of Vaughn, I forgot to tell you about last night.”
When I’m done detailing the Morgan scenario, June is aghast. “He invited you to his room? That’s so inappropriate.”
“Right?” I reply, careful to match her tone. I kind of left out, by accident, the part about Morgan and me kissing. “Like it’s normal to sign a contract in some stranger’s bedroom.”
Flynn, already on her phone, checks Morgan out online. “Ah, hello? You forgot to mention he’s fucking stunning.” Her finger whips along the iPhone screen. “But what is up with his feed? Is this for real?”
“The cats?” I ask.
June peers over Flynn’s shoulders and laughs. “Crikey. Okay, maybe you should have gone to his room. Kidding! Seriously though. Is this how Monégasques fill their days? Boats, beaches, and pussies?”
The Royal Morgan Yachts feed is exactly as June describes. Insane yachts. Sultry lagoon destinations with water the color of jade and sapphires. And photos of various cats. Yes, cats. It took me a long time to fall asleep last night, taking it all in. Being a cat lover is a surprisingly humane wrinkle in Morgan’s prickly layers.
Flynn sets down her phone. “Bizzaro-land.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of code only yacht people understand,” June offers, dragging a cracker through a smear of hummus.
I shrug. “Maybe he’s just into cats.”
“Makes sense. You are one fabulous pussy,” June says, winking.
Flynn chuckles and hoists up her maxi dress to arrange herself cross-legged on the stool. A celebrity with an open-book policy when it comes to healing and overcoming trauma, she’s surprisingly private about her own life. But she loves nothing more than hanging out and dishing about the men in our lives. “Okay. Now that we know he’s basically, like, the tenth wonder of the world—”
“Eighth,” June interrupts. “There’s only seven right now.”
“Whatever. This isn’t Jeopardy.” With a shake of her head, Flynn turns to me. “Aside from the creepy, hotel-room move, what’s your gut telling you?”
I take my time answering, arranging my Kleenex wads into a triangle. “I don’t know. It’s a great opportunity but it feels … a little rushed.”
“Is it truly over with Derek?” June prods. “This isn’t some midlife crisis, he-she-it exploring thing?”
“Even if it was, I’m not going back. Not after this.”
June turns to Flynn, her sly smile broadening. “Then I say we put money down.”
Flynn suppresses a laugh, but not fast enough. “I’m in for a hundred that she crumbles in the first week.”
“Hey,” I protest. “This is not Friday night at Stanford. He’s a potential client.”
“Right.” June smirks because she can always read me like a book. “What’s the longest you’ve ever held out?”
“I dunno. Three dates?”
“More like one,” she corrects. “And this bastard is hot as stink.” She guzzles the last of the wine and gives me her infamous know-it-all look over the top of her glass. “I know why you didn’t say yes. You’re worried you might bend your own rules.”
My face reddens at the thought of my vibrator working overtime this morning. “First of all, I’m still married. And second, it’s not even a done deal. Morgan hasn’t signed anything.”
“Didn’t he say he wasn’t taking no for an answer?” June reminds me, sounding gleeful that I’m in the hot seat for a change. I rode her ass relentlessly two years ago until she separated from her useless husband. The darling of the start-up world, she has a knack for finding the right companies at the right time and turning them into hot commodities. She also has a knack for dating losers.
“And technically, you’re single,” Flynn chimes in, always with the last word.
Just as I’m starting to question why I ever brought Morgan up, my phone starts to hum on the counter. Three sets of eyes pivot to the screen as Morgan’s name scrolls along the top.
“Well, speak of the devil,” June says.
“Answer it!” Flynn urges, her face animated as they hunker down on the stools with bright eyes. My girls, ready for gossip.
But am I ready?
Ghost fingers walk up my spine as I remember Morgan’s hooded gaze after we kissed. The way he said Vandana, my name soaked with naughty suggestion. How driving home, my entire being felt like one giant erogenous zone.
Forget about all that. Prove to Vaughn you can do this. Prove it to yourself.
Bringing a finger to my lips I whisper, “I’ll put him on speaker. But no talking.”
