Jay: Busy Friday. Saturday?
Bianca: I’m actually going out of town Saturday afternoon for an assignment. Maybe the next weekend will work out.
There was no damn way I was waiting a full week to see her again. I didn’t hesitate when I made my decision.
Jay: I’ll cancel my plans for Friday. Pick you up at seven?
Bianca: OK. Sure.
Jay had a date with Bianca for two nights from now, and Dex was gearing up for his 11PM chat. What had this woman done to me?
Promptly at eleven the online chat box popped up on my laptop.
Bianca: Good evening, Mr. Truitt.
Dex: Yes, it is, Ms. George. Are you ready for round two?
Bianca: I am. I gave a lot of thought to our discussion last night, and you were right.
Dex: I usually am. You’ll need to be more specific.
Bianca: I meant, that I think the article should focus more on you personally and less on the business angle of things.
I liked the sound of that. Focus more on me, Georgy Girl.
Dex: Are you telling me that your questions are going to be more intimate this evening? Because our deal still stands—question for a question, Ms. George.
Bianca: I can take whatever I dish out. You ready?
My dick twitched. Down boy. She was talking to Mr. Truitt.
Dex: I’m always ready, Ms. George.
Bianca: First question—Are you in a committed relationship?
Dex: I date. But, no, I’m not in a committed relationship.
It was the truth. I should probably be committed after the last two days, but my relationship with Caroline was open. We served a purpose for one another—attending required business functions and providing sexual gratification. Don’t get me wrong—I liked Caroline, and I was pretty sure she liked me. But neither of us wanted more from what we had.
Bianca: Would you like to have children someday?
Dex: Not so fast, Ms. George. I believe you’ve skipped my turn. Are you in a committed relationship?
Bianca: No. I was, but it ended.
Dex: What happened?
Bianca: Long story. I’ll give you the abbreviated version. Stockbroker. Engaged. Liar. End of Engagement.
Fuck. I needed to know more. This didn’t sound like it would bode well for me.
Dex: What did he lie about?
Bianca: I’ve already answered two questions. I believe you’re now the one who is skipping turns.
Dex: Fine.
What was the last question she asked me? Oh, yes. Children. It dawned on me that I’d been seeing Caroline for the better part of a year and she’d never inquired about whether I saw my future including a bunch of rugrats.
Dex: Yes. I do want children. But I don’t want them raised by a nanny. I loved Sugie, don’t get me wrong, but I think children should be raised by their parents, if it is feasible. My turn. What did your fiancé lie about?
Bianca: Everything. Anything. You name it. He lied.
Dex: He was cheating on you, then?
Bianca: No. I don’t think so. He just lied. To clients, to our boss, what his bank balance was, it didn’t really matter. In hindsight, I think he got off on it in some ways.
Dex: So this factors into your dislike for rich and powerful men?
Bianca: Maybe. I’ve never thought about that. But I don’t think my dislike of liars is related to only rich men. My father wasn’t particularly rich and he lied. I just prefer the simple things in life—like the truth.
My hole I had dug for myself had just bottomed out, and I had no idea how I was going to get out of it unscathed. The smart thing would have been to stop playing this game right now, but of course I didn’t. I continued for more than an hour answering and asking personal questions. The more I asked, the more addicted I became. I wanted to know everything there was to know about Bianca George. When we were wrapping things up for the evening, her last question brought me to a moment of truth.
Bianca: My deadline is at the end of the month. I’d like to finish this interview in person. We’ll continue our 11PM chats in the meantime, but I’d really like to meet face to face at least once. No pictures, of course.
I hesitated before responding.
Dex: Okay. Yes. We can meet at the end.
Shit.
Not even wetting my wood helped.
Tonight was my date with Bianca, and I hadn’t been able to whittle a fucking pencil, much less an animal. Clement, my little blond nemesis as I’d come to think of him—the ten-year-old from the YouTube video—had to be a ringer. Because this shit was not easy. Frustrated and calling it quits, I put down the carving tool and decided Bianca wouldn’t be getting a small wooden animal. I, however, was getting that kiss one way or the other.
Later in the afternoon, my phone chimed, announcing a new text had arrived. Bianca’s name illuminated on the screen. I immediately swiped to open.