Chapters (7)
North froze at the same time that Shaw stopped talking.
Ahead of them, directly in their path, Pari was dancing up on someone and making out. Hard.
And it was a boy.
A very pretty, very skinny, very blond boy with shaggy curls like he’d wandered straight out of the 70s.
And his tongue was probably halfway to Pari’s dinner.
“Um,” Shaw said.
“Uh,” North said.
“Chuck’s going to be . . .” Shaw said.
“No,” North said, pointing. “No, she’s not.”
Chuck was sitting at one of the high tables, drink in one hand, watching. And smiling.
“Ok,” Shaw said.
“Ok,” North said
Pari saw them, extricated herself from the blond guy’s hands and tongue, and made her way over to them. Tonight, the bindi looked black, but it might have been a dark red or a dark green or a dark blue. Whatever color, it wasn’t as dark as the waterfall of onyx hair. It wasn’t as dark as her eyes.
Pulling a paper out of her pocket, she passed it to North. “I type fifty words per minute, I have excellent people skills, I score a 9.7 on lateral thinking, and I’ve got a mind of my own.”
“A 9.7?” Shaw said.
“I made that up.”
“You’ve got a mind of your own?” North was grinning. “Like a headstrong governess in a Bronte novel?”
“I should have expected a typically Eurocentrist, male chauvinist response.” She whirled away, her dark hair cutting the air like a midnight fan.
“You can start Monday,” Shaw said.
“I think maybe we should look at several candidates before we—” North tried to say.
“I’m going to be late,” Pari announced as she strode toward the blond boy. “Have somebody clock in for me at eight, and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“That’s not exactly how it works . . .” Shaw started, but Pari wrapped herself around the blond boy, staring at Shaw until North could almost see the words dry up.
“I’m spending the rest of the weekend with my boyfriend. And my girlfriend. Is that a problem?”
“The problem is asking us to clock you in when you’re not—”
Pari and the boyfriend had danced away before North could finish.
“That,” North said, “is why we should have looked at multiple candidates. Done some interviews. Asked for references.”
“She’s going to be great,” Shaw said. “Plus she’s bi. And poly.”
“Jesus, let’s get you home. And we’re setting up an OkCupid profile for you tonight. Tonight, Shaw. No arguments. I don’t need you making any more business decisions because your dried-up bits got excited at the thought of Pari playing both sides of the field.”
“I don’t really need a dating profile. I actually think single people can be happier than people in relationships. I was reading this Mother Jones article, and it said—”
“Shaw?”
“Huh?”
“Buddy?”
“What?”
“Let’s get you laid.”