Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Out with it,” she said, her fingers clutched around the card. “I’m looking for an excuse not to go back to work and this is it. So out with it, the whole story,” she commanded.
I shook my head, helpless. I knew my friend. She has a good heart but was like a bloodhound sometimes. Once she had her nose to a scent, she didn’t let go, following a trail relentlessly. So I gave in and told Tanya everything, of how Tucker was my delivery man, how I’d ordered shampoo my first night and slept with him that same night.
“Holy shit,” said Tanya, wrinkling her brow. “You fucked your delivery man without knowing his name?” she asked in a semi-loud voice.
“Shh!” I hushed her, looking around, embarrassed. Fortunately, NYC is a noisy place and no one could hear over the cars rushing past, not to mention the din of other diners’ conversation. “Sort of, well yes, I did,” I admitted.
There was silence for a moment before Tanya whooped.
“You go girl!” she shrieked, reaching out for a high five. I clapped her palm, unsure exactly what she was referring to. But my coworker was only too happy to elucidate.
“Honey, you’re young, you’re pretty, you should have as much hot sex as you can,” she advised, nodding her head approvingly. “Take it from me, I’ve been divorced twice and no guy wants me,” she said. “I’m used.”
I protested, still looking around, hoping no one could hear us. Fortunately, everyone else seemed too into their own conversations to care.
“Tanya, of course men are still interested in you because you’re an attractive woman,” I protested. “You’re only twenty-five! But seriously, can we talk about this later? Not now,” I said in a hushed voice, still looking around furtively.
But unfortunately, my co-worker has never been known for her discretion. Instead, she carried on in a loud voice.
“And rich too, this ‘Tucker McGrath’ is a rich man,” she said out loud, looking at the Visa admiringly again, watching as the sunlight glinted off the metal surface. “Man, you got yourself a good one because only millionaires carry this baby.”
I sat stock still for a moment, unsure of what I’d heard.
“Excuse me?” I asked slowly. “What do you mean, ‘millionaires’?”
Tanya looked up at me.
“Oh Laurie, you’re so naïve,” she cackled. “Seriously, you’ve never seen this card before? Well, I guess not, there aren’t too many people in city government who’d qualify for this gem. This is a J.P. Morgan Palladium card, honey. It’s the real deal. You can only get this if you have ten million under management with the bank.”
I was completely still, completely silent, my heart beating hard.
“Ten million?” I repeated, my mouth dry.
“Ten million,” confirmed Tanya. “And the average cardholder has a net worth of something like a hundred million. Trust me, I know,” she said ruefully. “My first ex had one, and I used to get to use it.”
My mouth dropped open now, looking like a dead fish, lips blubbery and wide. Slowly, I took the card from Tanya’s hands, my fingers sliding over the cool metal, the deep grey burnished with a rose hue.
“It must be called the Palladium because it’s plated with palladium metal, isn’t it?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else. “That’s what gives it this pink color.”
Tanya nodded sagely.
“Yep, you don’t know much about money but at least you know your periodic table,” she smirked. “Look it up on Wiki, you’ll see. But honey, I thought you said you were dating your delivery man. How in the world did a delivery guy get a card like this? It’s his name on it, right?”
I shook my head, my brain going at a hundred miles an hour, the world dropping out from under my feet. Because how did Tucker have this card? How in the world could a humble delivery man be a millionaire, if not a billionaire?
“Let’s go,” I said tightly, getting up from the table, not answering her question.
We walked back to work, my head down, striding as fast as I could with Tanya trailing me, peppering me with questions that I couldn’t answer, didn’t want to hear.
“Where does Tucker live? Oooh, is his apartment fancy?”
“Does Tucker have any rich male friends? Do you think he could set me up with someone? I’d really appreciate it.”
The questions just made me angry. Because the fact is, I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Was the apartment in Tribeca some fake, just a prop he used to seduce women? And who were Tucker’s friends? The people in the Mediterranean had never shown up, never called as far as I knew, maybe they didn’t even exist.
Fuck, I felt so stupid, so dumb. I’d been so trusting, just a naïve girl who’d been taken by a handsome man again, a master who fed me whatever I wanted to hear. Most likely Tucker had been spinning a web of lies and I’d believed it all, eating it up, no questions asked, living in my own personal La-La Land.