“Can't upset the devil, now can we? You're no fun now. You know that, right? I liked you much better when you would fuck anything that had a penis,” he said through a yawn, rolling onto his back.
“I had slightly higher standards than that.”
“Barely.”
“Why are you so okay with Jameson and I, all of a sudden?” Tate asked, wiggling back into her skinny jeans. She had worn one of his t-shirts over her underwear to bed, and she pulled it over her head. “Before Paris, he was still the worst thing ever. Now you're almost cool with him, telling me to be all head-over-heels for him. Very hot and cold, Ang.”
“I have two choices – hate him and lose you, or get over him and keep you. He's not going away, no matter how hard I pray about it. Besides, seems to me, he worked pretty hard in Spain to get back into your good graces,” he replied, watching as she pulled her tight black tank top back on.
“He did some pretty shitty things, too,” she grumbled, putting on her jacket as she remembered getting tossed into the ocean.
“Yeah, but you like the shitty things best of all,” Ang laughed.
Tate rolled her eyes and bent to look in a mirror. Her hair was psychotic looking. She finger combed it all into a ball on top of her head. Her eye makeup was smudged everywhere, giving her that slutty-startled-Panda look, but sometimes Jameson was into that, so she just ran her fingers around the edges, cleaning it up a little. She turned back to Ang and crawled over him on the bed.
“You are a very good friend, dear. Thank you,” she said quickly, kissing him fast.
“Pleeeease, just the tip?” he whined when she crawled back off of him. She laughed again.
“No. Tell me how things go with Ellie,” she called out as she dashed out of his bedroom.
Tate hopped on the subway and the red line took her all the way downtown, just a couple blocks from the financial district and where Jameson's offices were, on State Street. It took her a little over half an hour, but she was finally standing outside his building at one o'clock. Only an hour late. He was going to be pissed. She was excited and nervous. She still wasn't sure how she felt, after her all night heart-to-heart with Ang. She felt giddy, and nervous. Excited and confused. A lot like she was going to either throw up, or shit herself.
Not fun.
She took a deep breath and was about to pull the door open, when her cell phone started ringing. She scrambled to yank it out of her pocket, positive it was him. If she missed another phone call, he would probably lose it and go find Ang. Put him in a pair of cement booties and drop him in Boston Harbor. Tate snickered at the thought, but then stopped when she saw her screen. It wasn't Jameson. It was Nick.
“Hey, how are you?” she asked, taking a couple steps down the sidewalk.
“Good! I have something exciting to tell you,” he said, sounding a little breathless. Wherever he was, it was noisy.
“Oookay, what's up?” she asked, moving around the corner of the building.
“Guess where I am?” he asked back. She leaned back against a wall.
“Hmmm, I don't know. Some pre-game exhibition?” she replied.
“Nope.”
“Bangkok?”
“Nope.”
“An airport?” she guessed for real.
“Yes,” he answered. She perked up.
“An airport, huh. New York?”
“Nope.”
“Boston!?”
“Yup.”
“What are you doing here!?” she exclaimed. He hadn't mentioned visiting. It was the beginning of February, spring training was going to start in like two weeks.
“They flew the whole team up for some charity dinner thing at the Hilton. I need a date,” his voice was teasing sounding. She almost swallowed her tongue.
“How long are you here for?” she asked, glancing around the corner. She halfway expected Jameson's psychic abilities to call him down to her hiding spot.
“Just a couple days. I was hoping we could catch up. Feels like I haven't seen you in forever,” he groaned. She nodded.
“Yeah, since December. A date, huh,” she mumbled, a plan formulating in her head.
“Yeah. Should be kind of stuffy, but I figured we could go out for drinks later and you could be my wing-man, help me pick up chicks,” he joked. She cocked up an eyebrow. Nick did fine picking up chicks all on his own – he had gotten her pretty easily. She wondered if he had a specific chick in mind. Wondered if it was herself.
“Look, I was just about to go to a ..., meeting, thing. Place. Can I call you back when I'm done? Maybe we can do lunch, or dinner,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. So long as I get to see you. Are you still with ...,” he let his voice trail off.