6. Creating Chance
six
“I have two crates from Amsterdam waiting to be consumed,” I said to Chad over the phone as we prepared for his New Year’s Eve party.
“Dope—”
“Dope? Really?”
“Whatever, dude. Everything I got is from Germany, France, and Italy. Abel said something about a fine ouzo import from Greece. Supposed to change your life.”
I snorted. “If you say so.”
“Oh, who are you bringing? Please, please, please say Taya.”
I chuckled. “You can invite her if you want.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, her sorority friends. Don’t you know enough actresses and models to fill up a pool?”
“The more the merrier.”
“I don’t wanna give her the wrong impres—Oh, wait! She said she’ll be out of town.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No, seriously. She’ll be visiting her mom in Zurich.”
“Lame.”
“Again, you can invite her friends yourself.”
“It’s so last minute.”
“For you? They’ll make it happen. Trust me.”
“So, who will you bring?”
“I don’t know. Nobody?”
“Scandalous.”
I looked at the time on my laptop and realized that I only had five minutes until my next work call. “Okay, gotta go.”
“Dude—”
“Some of us have real jobs?”
“Ouch? I’ll have you know that I start shooting in Buffalo in January. I dare you to come out there and freeze your balls off with me in the wild.”
I laughed. “Buffalo is hardly the wild. Seriously though, I have a call with D.C. Later, man.”
“Use your plus-one powers for good! Later.”
Hanging up, I shook my head and pulled the bud out of my ear. All that talk of freezing weather reminded me of Sophie. If she were to ever meet Chad in real life, she would deem me a saint in comparison. Wondering if she ever managed to get on a flight to Paris, I wished I could reach her somehow.
But then again, I knew where she worked. Seeing that I still had two minutes until the call began, I picked up the phone and reached out to Stacey.
“Hello, Mr. Wright.”
“Hey. Listen, do you have a direct number for a Miss Sophie Jones at Creators’ Rights?”
“Uh—The NGO? Let me see… hmmm. No, but I do have their landline.”
“Please call them and try to get me her number. I’m signing into the conference call now.”
“You got it.”
“Thank you.”
***
After the virtual meeting ended, I called Stacey again. “Any luck with Ms. Jones?”
“They gave me another landline; it’s supposed to go directly to her desk. I’ve emailed it to you.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s it for today. You can sign off. Thank you.”
I dialed the digits my assistant had shared with me and the line kept ringing with no answer, so I tried again. This time, someone picked up.
“Creators’ Rights, how can I help you?”
“Hi—Sophie?”
“No, this is Zoey Spence. Sophie’s out of town, so her number diverts to me for emergencies. Who is this?”
“Nathan Wright. I recently took—”
“Of course! Mr. Wright, yes. We really appreciate your support.”
“Thank you. So… does she have an overseas number?”
“Overseas?”
“She mentioned going to France over the holidays.”
“Right. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get a flight out. You know how it is.”
“I see. So… she’s in America.”
“New York. But maybe if you tell me what this is in reference to, I can help?”
“Well, it’s about the McFadden case.”
“Oh.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I’m not handling that one.”
“I figured. Would you please give me her number?”
“Uh—” she hesitated.
“I won’t bother her. Just a text to clarify one of the points in her draft. I would’ve emailed, but many people don’t check their work inbox during the holidays.”
She huffed. “You’re right about that.”
“Help me out, Zoey. For Ryan McFadden’s sake.”
“I really shouldn’t be doing this. So, please promise me that it will be for your ears only.”
“I completely understand.”
Sophie’s words whirred in my head; “When was the last time a successful, famous attorney didn’t get what he wanted?”
Well, dear Sophie… you are right here in the city without any effort on my side. I would dare assume that the universe was making amends about Christmas.
I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly, but I was excited about the prospect of seeing her again. I programmed the number Zoey gave me on my phone and got up, going over to the dressing room to change.
As I undressed and put on my workout clothes, I contemplated whether or not I should call Sophie right away. I knew I was stalling while I strutted into the gym upstairs and got on the treadmill, starting with a slow walk as I increased the incline. I then upped the speed, gradually getting into the grind of a fast walk.
Call her, my mind urged me. What’s the worst that could happen?
She could reject me.
So? You’ve been rejected before.
By a married woman.
You’re secure enough. You can handle it.
But what for?
The chance to feel the way you did with her once again. Wouldn’t that be worth it?
“Hello?” her voice entered my ears through the buds as I continued to march, my eyes gazing upon the city.
I smiled. “I can see your house from here.”
“Excuse me?!”
“It’s a joke… Hi! It’s Nate.”
“Nate, who?”
“Nathan. Wright.”
“Oh—Nathan. Hi. How did you—”
“Get this number? C’mon, Jones. We’re working together now.”
“Alexander. I’m gonna kill him.”
“Not your boss, and save your breath... I’m not telling.”
“Okay?” She paused. “Um—How can I help you?”
I sped up into a light run. “Is this how you talk to all your roomies?”
“Not while they’re sober.” I could finally hear a smile in her voice.
“That was also a joke. I didn’t know you had roommates.”
“I’m… currently bunking with a buddy. So, technically yeah? Hey, are you running?”
“I am.” I paused. “So, they live with you in the house I saw the other day?”
I heard her draw a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Uh—I’m not there right now. I’m in New York, actually.”
“Y’ know, I gotta hand it to you. If you’d let us be friends, my feelings would be really hurt right now.”
“But we’re not, so they shouldn’t be.”
“Paris didn’t work out?”
“Nope. Hey, can you not run while you’re talking to me?”
“No can do. Also, New York is lucky. There’s plenty of places to visit. Need a guide?”
She briefly giggled. “What do you want, Nathan?”
“I wanna know what you’re doing here. It’s my city.”
“I’m volunteering… for your city’s people.”
“Wh—Your whole job is one big volunteering spree.”
“I can do more... so I am.”
“With who?”
“Whom.”
“Really?”
She laughed. “The Youth Center for the Arts.”
“That’s in Brooklyn, right?”
“Impressive. You do know your city. Seriously, stop running.”
“Are you gonna pay for my ailing health when I’m old and have high cholesterol?”
“I have a feeling that that wouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“You never know. Your people might win and put us all out of business.”
“As long as there’s people, there will always be a need for you.”
“And don’t you need company? New York is a big, bad city.”
She chuckled. “I’m a big girl.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At a friend’s. One of the volunteers. He lives near the center, so it’s convenient.”
He. Interesting. “I see. And did he also miss Christmas?”
“We didn’t miss Christmas. We, um… survived.”
I got off the treadmill and stood in front of the wall-wide window, my eyes following a single bird that kept floating in zig-zags and circles. “I like to think that I can do better than just survive, Sophie. We didn’t do it justice, don’t you agree?”
“What are you suggesting?”
“A do-over. Let’s pretend it’s still Christmas and celebrate it properly.”
“That’s nuts.” She replied, and I could picture her shaking her head.
“Why? It’s a free country. C’mon. You and me, my place.”
“Sounds like you’re hitting on me again.”
“I won’t pull anything funny, I promise. My house manager is also a spectacular chef. I can have him prepare whatever artery-blocking comfort food you want.”
“I’m not a child you can lure with candy!”
“But I can tell you that you can forget everything you know about cinnamon rolls, because that Swedish bastard makes the best Kanelbullar you’ll ever taste in your life.”
“What?”
“They’re fattening, they’re yummy, and they hug you from the inside. What more do you want?”
“A reason.”
“How about, I wanna thank you for feeding me and putting me in a good mood with your magic herb? Giving me the best two days without technology in… possibly ever? If I was alone back there, my head would’ve probably exploded.”
She chuckled. “Fine. What time did you have in mind?”
“Well, are you free tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“You can’t be working all day and night. Even noble volunteers gotta eat.”
She remained quiet for a moment before saying. “I can maybe… be done here around seven or eight?”
“And you’ll need maybe an hour? Nine p.m. okay?”
“Nine-thirty? I still don’t know where you live.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send my driver to pick you up.”
“Oh.”
“What do you say?”
“Then nine’s fine I guess.”
“Great. Text me the address?”
“Okay.”
“See you tonight!”
For the rest of my workout, I texted my house manager Gunnar the menu for dinner and dessert. I also instructed him to embellish the downstairs living room with cozy Christmas decorations without being over the top.
A party of how many? he asked.
Just one lady, but she can be ravenous.
Nice to finally see a date who likes to eat.
If we’re going there, then you’ll be happy to know that she’s not like anyone I’ve ever brought home.
Looking forward to meeting her.
Don’t hold your breath. She’s a handful.
The ones who are worth it often are.
Smiling, I put down the phone and assumed the pose of a plank. Gunnar might have been a hundred years old, but he still had an eye for the ladies. Having been married four times himself, he was a self-proclaimed ‘relationship forecaster’, and I enjoyed listening to the insights he proudly shared. He was a lot like my father, except that the latter would never give himself the right to evaluate my lady friends the way Gunnar brazenly did.
When I was done with my shower, I went downstairs and found Gunnar’s assistant, Kenneth, placing the final touches on the living room.
“Y’ know?” I said to him as I put my hands in my pockets. “I’ve always secretly hated fairy lights.”
Still standing on the step ladder, he turned to me, wide-eyed, as his hands froze on the last string of light along the drapes. “Should I take them down, sir?”
“No, no. Leave them. I have a feeling that they’ll be a nice touch for our guest.”
He smiled, climbing down the steps. “And you may change your mind about them in a bit. They just take some getting used to.”
Perhaps fairy lights were tacky, but so was string cheese. If I were being honest, that cheese could also be addictive.
After sharing the pickup address with my chauffeur, Evan, I went back upstairs and stood in the middle of the dressing room. Feeling challenged, I tried to decide on the garments that would be the least provocative to Sophie.
But try as I might, I was never going to be able to negate my wealth. Resigning to that fact, I pulled out my black Brioni suit, a matching shirt in dark gray silk, and a belt. I put them on, then sprinkled some musk and oud fragrance on myself.
Examining my appearance in the mirror, I smiled, satisfied with what I saw.
Merry Christmas, Sophie Jones.