We hop a cab to the Chrysler Building, andgrab some coffee from a vendor truck parked out front on thestreet. We take the elevator up and just as we step out into thereception area we run into my uncle. He’s walking purposefully withpapers in his hand. His white shirtsleeves are rolled up to hiselbows and a gold chain hangs from the pocket of his black vest. Hesmiles when he sees us.
“Well, don’t you two look like a powercouple?” he jibes, shaking hands with Ryan. “All ready?” heasks.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Have a seat and one of the receptionistswill see you inside.” My uncle disappears through the double doorsof the firm. Ryan exhales an uneasy breath and takes a seat on oneof the leather chairs in the waiting room.
“Do you want me to stay with you until you’recalled in?” I ask, trying to be supportive.
Ryan smiles, a huge dazzling smile, “No,that’s okay. I need to do this thing on my own.”
I nod, and lean down to kiss him. “Goodluck,” I whisper by his mouth, then leave to do my own work. As Ipass by the reception desk, Reynapsstsme.
“Hey,” she says as she follows me through thedoors. “Is that your boyfriend?” she asks conspiratorially.
“Um, yes. That’s Ryan.”
“His name’s not Jack?”
All the air leaves my body, but I try to staycomposed. “Why would you ask that?”
“Shelia is swearing up and down he’s the guywho strips at Culture. She was just there last weekend.”
I chew on my bottom lip. Jesus, does everywoman under the age of twenty-five know who Ryan is? “No, maybe hejust looks like him?” I try to conceal Superman’s secret identity.“He’s definitely hot enough to be a male stripper though,” I quip,and then walk off.
“Hell yeah he is,” I hear Reyna mutter underher breath, and it makes me smile a little.
Forty-five minutes later I steal a peek ofRyan and the founding partners in a conference room. He has hislaptop open with one of his mock ups projecting on a big screen.It’s the one I noticed the other day, the circle of names. My unclelooks pleased, as do the others in the room. Ryan lookssurprisingly calm, and you can see the passion on his face as hespeaks. I secretly wish he gets the job. It would be a greatconfidence booster for him.
I hurry into my uncle’s office, not wantinganyone to catch me spying, and place a stack of papers on his desk.I photocopied at least a hundred briefs this morning, and have justfinished delivering them to all the designated lawyers. I look upwhen Ryan and my uncle walk through the door; they’re both smilingand seem comfortable in each other’s presence. And, for one splitsecond, I wish it was my father instead of my uncle looking at Ryanthat way.
“So, who’s ready for a celebratory lunch?” myuncle asks in his deep voice. I glance between both of them,stunned. “You got the job?”
Ryan rubs the back of his neck, “Guessso.”
I don’t know what to do next. I want to runup and fling my arms around him, but how would that look in anoffice environment?
Fuck it; I do it anyway, giving him thebiggest hug I can muster, because I know this job could potentiallychange his life.
And potentially get rid of Jack theStripper.
“Mr. Remington,” a woman’s voice comes inover the speaker on his desk. “There’s been a development in theRichmond case, they’re requesting you in conference roomthree.”
My uncle sighs. “No rest for the weary,” hesays. “Looks like you two are celebrating on your own.” He walksover to the filing cabinet under the window and picks out a blueenvelope. “Have a good time,” he says amiably and then rushes outthe door.
“So what do you want to do to celebrate?” Iask, grabbing Ryan’s hand.
Ryan gets a wicked look on his face andglances at my uncle’s huge cherry wood desk. “I can think of onething.”
I walked right into that one.
“Not going to happen.”
“How bout a quickie at my place then?” hepulls me into his arms and I brace my hands on his chest.
“You’re not hungry?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m hungry,” he says, kissing my neck.“But you’re the only one who has the flavor I want.”