New York Billionaires Series

“You should get a hobby.” It’s another rude thing to say, but somehow, it feels fun with him. Knowing he can take it and dish it back just in kind.

He leans against a streetlamp, cool and collected and seemingly oblivious to the people passing us. “Oh, this is my hobby,” he says. “Rescuing damsels in distress at bars who go on bad blind dates.”

“Happens a lot, does it?”

“More than you’d think,” he says. “Where do you find these guys, anyway? Dating apps?”

“I’ve tried a few of those,” I admit. “They’re not my favorite, but… you get dates, at least.”

“I’m sure you do,” he says.

I brush past the enigmatic compliment. “But this guy was actually someone my friend set me up with.”

“Renouncing that friendship?”

“I really should,” I say. “Anyway, this was… nice. I mean, not the date. But the before and after.”

He grins. “Happy to help.”

“I should probably head home. Had a full day, and all. I actually had a job interview today. For my dream job.”

“Yes,” I say, probably rambling. I inch toward the subway steps. “I never got your name, actually?”

He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a small notepad and pen. It’s a slick move, matching his suit, his demeanor, the moneyed air. I don’t trust guys like him. Never have, not since my childhood. But something about him makes me feel energized.

Alive.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“Carter,” he says, scribbling something. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you. Don’t see this as having any strings. But if you need to pick a guy’s brain or be rescued from awful blind dates again…”

I stare at the paper he’s extending toward me. Carter, it says. And beneath it are seven digits.

“Your phone number?”

“The very one,” he says.

I take it, and wonder why I’m not nervous. He’s a man. An exceedingly handsome one, even. But I’d seen the woman he turned down tonight, and she could easily have passed for a model. Looked happy and smiling, too.

This thing, him and me, is so clearly a friendship thing. So I don’t feel nervous at all, accepting the piece of paper.

“Thanks,” I say. “Might be good to get a guy’s perspective on things.”

“Anytime,” he says, and nods to me. Like an old-time gentleman seeing off a lady. “Get home safe.”

“Thanks,” I murmur again, and walk down the steps. It isn’t until I’m halfway home, dizzy from all the impressions of the day, that I realize I never gave him my name. With shaking fingers, I add his number to my phone and give him the glorious name Carter Peanuts.

Then I send him a single text.

My name is Audrey. Thanks for the peanuts.

His response comes just as I’ve unlocked the room I’m renting on the second floor of a brownstone. I rest against the closed door and read it, feeling endless possibilities stirring around me.

Carter : Anytime, kiddo. Pleasure to meet you.

Carter : When’s your next date with hyperventilation?

Audrey: I didn’t hyperventilate, not fully. And I’ve been talking to someone new, actually.

Carter: Tell me about this guy.

Audrey: It’s just someone I matched with on an app. The conversation is meh, but he seems cute and he has a dog.

Carter: Good thing conversation isn’t a big part of relationships.

Audrey: Funny. Not every guy is talkative, you know. Just willing to strike up a conversation with a perfect stranger at a bar.

Carter: I get that. I’d never do that, for example.

Audrey: Me neither. What if the other person was a weirdo?

Carter: Or worse. Serial killers abound.

Audrey: That’s why I never tasted any of the peanuts you offered. Had you laced them before?

Carter: You’re on to me. I always carry a vial of arsenic around.

Audrey: I figured. You gave me those vibes. But, tell me. What do you do on a first date?

Carter: Beyond hyperventilate, you mean?

Audrey: Yeah. Tell me how a guy prepares.

Carter: What a question. Tells me everything I need to know.

Audrey: How so??

Carter: You prepare, do you? And work yourself into a state through it all. The trick is to not prepare at all. I don’t.

Audrey: So just… show up?

Carter: Yes. He’s there to date you, not the dress you spent four hours picking out. Just show up with a good attitude. That’s the only prep you should do.

Audrey: This is such a guy’s advice.

Carter: Isn’t that what you wanted? A guy’s perspective?

Audrey: Yes. But wow, is it a guy’s. Please continue though. Worst mistakes a girl can make?

Carter: That’s gonna vary from man to man, kid. I can only tell you what would turn me off.