“What are you doing?”
“Scheduling a third therapy session.”
“Oh.” I wince, warmth spreading across my shoulder blades. A tingle that tells me I’m being watched—and not just by Banks. “They’re still standing by the entrance, aren’t they?”
“Oh yeah.” She whistles under her breath. “Forget the tuna. Bring me one of them on your sandwich cart on Monday. Any of them will do. I’m not picky.” Suddenly she grabs up her glasses from their resting spot on her desk and puts them on. “Is that…？”
“Tobias Atwater, the adult film star with over one hundred and eighty films in his catalogue at the age of thirty-three. Yes. That’s him.” I might have browsed his Wikipedia page on the train this morning. Just out of curiosity. Gabe’s name turned up nothing, no social media presence whatsoever. When I slapped “Banks Pearson, rugby, coach” into the Google search bar, I gave a cursory scan of his biography which was located on the team website. Very cursory. Hardly remember any of it.
Liar.
Banks, also known as the Duke, is quite a big deal in his own right. With collegiate national titles under his belt as a team captain at Penn State, he’s now the first Black coach in the United States Rugby Union, not to mention the youngest. He rules the sideline for the New York Flare—and he’s undefeated this season.
Not that I memorized any of those details.
“I better go get rid of them,” I mutter, pushing to my feet. There is no way I’m going to make any headway today with Karina, especially with these three clowns posted up by the elevators. How dare they show up to my place of work? What could they possibly want?
Before I can leave Karina’s office, she shoots up from her exercise ball, sending the inflatable zigzagging toward the window. “Wait. Wait a second.”
Hope leaps in my chest. “You’re rethinking the whole ‘deputy mayor is a mole for the union boss’ story? I can show you my notes—”
“Nope. I’ve made my position very clear on that front, Elise. Do not try me.” She keeps our gazes locked until I nod, very discreetly crossing my fingers behind my back. “I’m about to give you a big opportunity that you do not deserve in any form or fashion. I’m offering you a chance to write something for the lifestyle section. A week in the life of a woman in a polyamorous relationship.”
All I can do is stare. “I’m not in a polyamorous relationship. I’m not in any relationship, but if this were one, I…don’t think it would be referred to as polyamorous, since they…I mean, I could be wrong, but they didn’t seem at all interested in each other…”
“Fine, so a quad?”
I let out a low whistle. “You definitely know more about this than I do.”
“I’ve led an interesting life.” She pauses, leans forward. “Elise, in no way am I pressuring you to pursue a relationship, but if you made that decision independently, that is a story I would be interested in from you.”
“No. No way. I’m…no. First of all, they could just be here to return my old badge. I might have dropped it. Second, on the off chance they are here to ask me out or something equally insane, I don’t even like having one boyfriend, let alone three. Men are a pain in the ass.” My mind is conjuring nightmare scenarios, one right after the other. “There would be no way out of a group text situation if I had three boyfriends. It would be never-ending. That is three sets of crusty friends I’d have to meet and impress. Three sets of parents. I’m dying a rapid death inside just thinking about it.”
“Say no more.” Karina collects her ball and sits back down in front of her sandwich, her lips twitching with a smile. “I totally understand. Maybe you could just tell them to get lost and write about the tram experience itself. Whatever you decide is fine with me, but under no circumstances do you continue with this harebrained stakeout of Deputy Mayor Alexander. Okay?”
I swallow. Nod. Start to leave again and stop with my hand on the door.
“Why are you hesitating?”
“Just enjoying the last few seconds before they realize I’m a sandwich delivery girl.”
“The best sandwich delivery girl.” Karina sinks her teeth into her tuna sandwich and waves me toward the door. “Even if you’re reckless and annoying.”
“Such flattery.”
She snorts. “Drop the story, Elise.”
I turn away from her so she can’t see my eyes are crossed. “It’s dropped.”