The Scheme

BRIAN

ESPN blasted in the background as I sat in the same spot since I’d woken up, working on the proposal I had to present to the credit committee on Monday.

Trey strolled into the living room in boxers only. “My head is fucking killing me. Damn migraines.” He stretched his arms over his head, making his already towering body even taller. It was his condo, so I didn’t have much of a say if he walked around half naked or not. At least he wore boxers. I had to give him that.

“You look worse than me, and I’m the guy who got sucker punched.” I smirked.

His eyes narrowed. “Shut up or you’ll be sleeping in the subway.”

I threw my pen at his head, and he chuckled when it missed him by mere inches.

When I’d told him I was moving to New York, he’d offered me his spare bedroom. I had jumped at the opportunity. We were best buds in high school and had gone through some tough shit when we were younger. I knew we wouldn’t have problems getting along plus rooming with him has saved me close to fifteen-hundred dollars a month in rent. I could’ve bought a house back home for what the landlords in Manhattan asked for a one-room closet they called an apartment.

With a sleepy nod at me, Trey strolled into the kitchen and pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. He lifted the open spout to his mouth and guzzled it down.

Note to self: Pick up some OJ and label it.

Carton still in hand, he staggered toward me and plopped on the couch, staring at the TV in his zombie state. I ducked my head back into my computer as my fingers drummed against the keyboard.

“How’s your eye?” he asked as he chugged back his drink. His expression held a note of mockery. “Someone took a beat down.” He laughed.

Dick.

I touched the stitches at my brow, the puffiness evident and sensitive to the touch. When I brushed my teeth this morning, I noticed the swelling had gone down, but the blue tinge of a giant bruise had already appeared.

“What’re you talking about? I fell down the stairs,” I retorted.

Trey let out a carefree laugh, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he set down the orange juice on the center table. “Seriously, bro. What’re the chances that the hottest girl at the bar, also trying to get laid, had a boyfriend?”

I grimaced, rubbing my hand along my chin. Newly formed stubble prickled my fingertips. “I’m just go

“Don’t look at me like that,” he chuckled, raising both hands. “I only swing one way. And you know how much I love me some ladies.”

His words rang true. I thought of the revolving door of women I’d seen make their way into the apartment since I’d moved in. Trey was never without company. There was a time after my sister when he’d given up on women. I didn’t know if it was because he was still holding onto the chance they’d get back together, or if whatever had happened between them had screwed up his view on the ladies.

He eyed my old half-eaten bagel, my poor excuse of a breakfast and lunch.

“Go ahead. I’m too busy to be hungry.” For the first time since I’d gotten up this morning, I closed my laptop and let my head drop to my hands, rubbing my forehead. I let all the tension from my shoulders ooze out of me.

I needed to win this deal. I had expanded a couple of relationships at work, selling current clients different bank products, but this would be a brand new client I’d be bringing on. I needed the Tiggins Corporation to switch from their current bank to Financial State, where we could service their multi-million dollar portfolio. This new client would secure me the promotion I’d been working so hard to get.

“I need to land this deal,” I sighed. “This would make my quota for the year, so I won’t be so stressed out.”

Trey placed a light hand on my shoulder. “You’ll land it, bro. I have the ultimate faith in you. First things first, let’s get some real food, and then let’s go out-out and try to find us some single ladies tonight.” Trey eyed my bagel with a pinched expression.

I shook my head. “Did you not hear what I just said? I have to work.”

“I heard you. I’m just not listening.” He reached for my bagel with cream cheese, and made his way to the garbage. “You can’t have bad luck two nights in a row. You’re stressed out, and you need a little release that only a woman can give you.”

This may be true, but I didn’t want any more complications in my life. “Naw, man. I’m just not in the mood.”

“I’m not asking,” he said about as sternly as Trey can get. “Get your ass off that couch. I’ll even let you pick the bar. And those stitches make you look badass. You’ll be a huge chick magnet.”

As if that was supposed to make the deal more appealing. But I knew, just like last night, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

I stood and stretched my legs, shaking off the cramp from sitting in the same position for so long.

Trey ran a hand over his hair then headed into his room. “Be ready in ten.”

With all the time he spent on his hair, I knew Trey’s ten minutes meant twenty, so I strolled at a normal pace into my room. My roommate had a love/hate relationship with his hair. Not like he had much to style anyway, and yet he had more hair products than all my sisters combined.

I shook my head. Maybe I had thirty minutes.

***

KENDY

I gave myself one more onceover in my bathroom mirror. The overhead florescent lighting showcased the glimmer of my eye shadow. I had curled my hair to perfection to ensure it would bounce with my every step, and my white halter-top hugged and accentuated my perky breasts.

I also had to bump it up a notch tonight, so I had heels to fix my height problem. At only five-five, I needed to compete with the many models trying to make their break in New York. Tonight, I was wearing my four-inch-clubbing heels. If he hadn’t noticed me before, there was no way I wouldn’t get his attention tonight.

I texted Sarah, but no response. Her last text had given the address of The Bartlett’s Night Club. Per our conversation last night, we had decided to meet there at nine, so I anxiously waited for her to get back to me.

Giving myself a satisfied grin, I strolled out of the bathroom. My heels clip-clopped against the hardwood floor as I sauntered into the kitchen. I opened the fridge for my boxed wine. Nobody was allowed to judge my love of the box. From the overhead cabinet, I reached for my pretty wine glass etched with a floral design, which Beth had given me for my twenty-first birthday, and poured myself a glass.

I rocked back and forth in my heels, just staring at my phone. My fingers twitched at my sides, causing the nervous jitters to jump up a notch as I waited for Sarah to call. Five minutes and an empty glass later, I texted Sarah I’d just meet her at the club.

I didn’t want it to seem like I had showed up to a place where Dr. Klein would be, so I had to get there before him. As if he would be showing up to my party.

I checked the mirror in the hallway one last time after grabbing my tiny silver purse from the counter. My gloss dazzled a perfect pink with added shimmer. I nodded once, satisfied with my ensemble, and then darted out the door.

***

BRIAN

When Trey asked me where I wanted to go tonight, he’d mentioned a couple of bars, one being The Bartlett’s Night Club. I knew it sounded familiar and, when I tried to recall if I’d been there, I suddenly remembered Kendy’s friend had mentioned it last night.

Ironically enough, Trey knew the owner’s son. There really wasn’t anyone Trey didn’t know. He was part of the ‘in’ crowd of Manhattan.

After moving to New York after high school, he’d gone out and lived it up, partied with the elite. His father had money and, as long as Trey worked for him, he kept those funds coming.