The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire(3)

“Yeah.”



“Wow, how does that animal live with himself?” She smiles. “What a monster!” she adds theatrically.



“I know, I’m just tired and pissy. I’m just a walking raw nerve at this point.”



“Well, that much is clear. Jeez, I’d love that guy to call me sweetheart or baby, or dirty little slut… he’s hot as fuck!”



“Oh yeah? I didn’t really notice,” I lie.



“Well, I only saw him from the back, but just those shoulders alone. Mmmm. Give me a break, Kendra, don’t gimme that blank stare. I know you have eyes for god’s sake, you can see he’s gorgeous. What is it with you? Do you, like, hate hotties? You need to cut loose and get laid for once!”



Easy for her to say. Brianna never bothered with college. She told me she was too young to get bogged down with a desk job when all she wanted was to have some fun while she was still young. I often tell her that she should aim higher and get back into school, but she has too many guys lined up and too many parties to go to. When you look like Brianna, with flawless mocha skin and gorgeous golden brown eyes, it’s probably a lot easier to be confident around all those sexy men.



“You know I don’t have time for that right now! I have a degree to finish and then I need to find work and get a new apartment and…”



“I know, I know.” She waves her hand at me like she’s shooing away the case I’m building like an annoying mosquito. “I just think you deserve some fun every once in a while. It wouldn’t kill ya to go out and act your age.”



Crushing the cigarette under her black shoe, Brianna smooths her hands over her long, shiny waves. God, I wish I had her hair. I swear she must have Beyonce’s stylist locked in her closet. I touch my fingertips to my own frizzy, short hair wistfully. With my feeble attempt at pinning it back, it just looks like a dark cloud puffing out around my head.



“Look, I’ll go cover your tables. You just smooth things over with Mr. Taylor before he has a fit. I will gladly go serve Mr. Sweetheart too.” She smirks. “I don’t know what it is about that guy, but he looks kinda familiar.”



“Maybe you already did serve Mr. Sweetheart,” I laugh.



Brianna gives a little snort. “Maybe, I wouldn’t rule it out.”



She goes back in the restaurant leaving me in an evaporating cloud of her smoky perfume. I should probably go apologize to that guy, and then maybe Taylor will calm down. I walk back out to the dining room, but I can see that Mr. Sweetheart already left. Shit. Well, hopefully, I can smooth this over with the boss.



I start heading back to Mr. Taylor’s office when Brianna runs over, waving a napkin in the air like she’s surrendering a war.



“Kendra, wait!” She grabs my arm, “Ohmygod! Do you know who that was?” She’s jumping up and down so much I can’t see what’s on the napkin. I’m searching my mind for actors or politicians when Brianna stops jumping and gives me the side-eye. “Seriously? Do you, like, ever get out at all? That was Matthew Blackwell.”



I’m familiar with the name. You can’t be pursuing a masters in business in Manhattan and not know about the Blackwells. They own a ton of communications and media outlets across the United States, and yet somehow, Matthew Blackwell still manages to have news stories about his bad-boy, lady killer antics every second week.



“Oh.”



“Are you fucking kidding me? Oh? I said Matthew Blackwell. The billionaire. And he left his number, look!”



I pluck the napkin out of her hand and read the blue scrawl across it:



    Let me make it up to you.

    I’ll treat you to dinner, something without fries.

    My cell: 555-2928.

    Matthew Blackwell



“Uh, no thanks.” I crumple the sheet in my hand and stuff it in my apron pocket, scrunching my nose up.



“You can’t be serious? There’s no way you’re not gonna call?” Brianna looks like she’s going to hyperventilate. “Matthew fucking Blackwell wants to take you on a date, are you insane? That guy is, like, a kajillionaire! And, he’s a bachelor too.”



“Good for him, so why is he asking out a waitress in this dump? Nothing about this sounds strange to you?”



“You’re always so suspicious! Just enjoy the fact that a super hot, super goddamned rich, guy wants to take you out. Are you actually saying you’re not going call? Are you kidding?” She sounds like she’s going to either cry or throttle me. Probably both.