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In a New York Minute(48)

Author:Kate Spencer

I wondered, for a moment, if she’d relay this info to her best friend. Then there was that memory again: of Franny, and the Italian ice, and her carefree laugh as if nothing mattered.

“As I was saying,” I continued, trying to focus, “it wasn’t awkward.” I narrowed my eyes at my cousin. “If it was awkward, would she have offered to make me dinner?”

“Ooooh,” Lola said supportively, just as Perrine replied, “Here? You don’t have a dining room table.”

“We can eat in the living room,” I said defensively. “Or do it at her place.”

“Have you even brought a date back here yet?”

“Perrine,” I said, my voice a little sharper now. I didn’t feel like discussing my sex life with my cousin, much less with her new girlfriend, whose only impression of me was as a weird date-stalker who said things like “You’re not my type” to people on live TV.

“Don’t worry, Hayes, nothing can shock me,” Lola said with a smile. “I read about celebrities doing bizarre shit all day long.”

“Then fine. Yes, I’ve brought women back here,” I said with a curt smile. “And dinner is not shocking.”

“Hayes, I have literally been inside a morgue, and even it’s got more ambiance than this place,” Perrine chimed in. “I told you I’d come over and hang stuff up for you.”

She was doing the thing where she acted like my mom, or a big sister, even though I was older. Sometimes I tolerated it. Liked it, even. Not today.

“Yeah, well, this apartment is the least of my worries. We need to find someone to do the interior of our new office.”

“I thought you had a guy,” she said, crossing her arms as she grilled me.

“We did, and then he got a bigger gig. And now we’re scrambling. And our publicist just lined up two huge press hits for us, and both are tied into the design and opening of the new space.”

“Oh my god,” Lola interrupted, which was probably for the best, anyway, since Perrine and I were on the verge of one of our sibling-esque spats.

Both of us turned to look at her. “Wait, sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I had what I thought was an amazing idea and then realized it probably isn’t.”

“What?” Perrine and I said at the exact same time.

“Okay, well, I think you know Franny is an interior designer.” She said this like a salesperson, slowly laying out a pitch before the big sell.

“Franny-from-the-train Franny?” I asked, even though I knew exactly who she was talking about. Hearing her name made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention.

“Yes, that Franny. As opposed to all the other Frannys we both know.” I don’t think I’d ever met someone more sarcastic, and being on the receiving end was slightly terrifying and also weirdly enjoyable at the same time.

“Right,” I said. “And now she’s off and running with her own business and clients, and doing great and booked for months.”

Lola shifted slightly. “I think she’s had some spots open up.”

“Ooooh,” Perrine said, quickly shutting up when I shot her The Look.

“She’s truly talented. Gifted.” Lola paused. “And from what I hear, you two hit it off the other night, so no more hard feelings or anything like that to worry about.”

Hard feelings? Great. Just great. I could feel my face getting redder by the minute. “I don’t think—”

Lola held up her hand to stop me. “Your call. Of course.”

Perrine looked at Lola and then at me. “I think hiring Franny makes perfect sense. You definitely need some help, Hayes-y,” Perrine said, using my childhood nickname. “Think about it.”

Lola grinned. “It sounds to me like you’re kind of fucked, and Franny could definitely unfuck the situation for you. She’s done corporate interiors before. It’s basically her thing. What she’s known for.”

“Well,” I said, “I do need someone to unfuck things right now.”

Perrine snorted, and I glared back.

“Okay,” she said, turning to tug on Lola’s arm. “We should go. I’m starving.”

“Good to see you, Hayes,” said Lola, smiling at me like she had my number, even though we’d really just met.

“You too,” I said as I followed them to the door. Once they’d left, I flopped onto my couch, stretching my legs long, remote in hand, clicking over to ESPN for something mindless to watch.

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