Chapter 5
Hallie
As I walked through the doors of Sophisticate on Monday morning, I hit post on a new review to my social media page. A taco truck had opened on my usual route into work, and I knew it needed to be featured the second that chorizo hit my tongue.
One of my favorite things about reviewing food was how it could change lives.
It’s the universal love language that everyone understands.
Despite our differences, we all know when something has an explosion of flavors or delivers a warmth that settles into our souls.
When the food is good, it’s made as a labor of love.
People that delivered delicious food like that deserved to be celebrated, and I knew that sometimes that recognition could change their lives forever.
“Hallie, have you got a plan for your first finance bro article?” Anthea breezed past my desk wearing a deep purple power suit that let everyone know she meant business. I swiped out of my account and dropped my phone down on my desk, trying to buy myself a few seconds to collect myself.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. Anthea raised an eyebrow. “I think this series can be sustainable for about two months. That should give me enough time to find the most eligible Wall Street bachelor and date him long enough for the piece to be both entertaining and meaningful.”
“Yes. That sounds great and all,” Anthea mused, “but how are you going to do it?”
“Well, according to my sources,” I started.
My “sources” being Roxie, but Anthea didn’t need to know that.
“Tuesdays are the new Fridays in New York. So, I’m going to head down to Whiskey Locker tomorrow night.
We both know finance guys love to work late.
Their happy hour is more like eight o’clock, rather than five. Then I’ll try to secure my first date.”
Anthea gave me a nod of approval. “You need to do more than just try , Hallie. You need to succeed.” She leaned in close and dropped her voice to a volume only she and I could hear.
“This series can boost the magazine’s numbers, and I’m counting on it.
” With that, she breezed toward her office, showing off her custom Nikes.
Because she was the person who pulled off a power suit and sneakers.
“God, I want to be her,” Janelle sighed next to me.
“Maybe matcha latte girl led you astray,” Roxie said as she stirred the tiny straw around in her drink.
I sighed. “But there were so many comments on my article seconding what the girl I overheard said. Maybe this is just the wrong night. I could have misremembered what I wrote.”
There were only a few patrons inside of Whiskey Locker and it was nearly eight already. A few men had come in, briefcases in hand, for a drink at the bar. But none of them had seemed interested in the handful of women lingering at the high-top tables, including Roxie and me.
“Let’s give it another hour and then we can leave. Maybe I need to consider a different bar,” I sighed, thinking about how I would report this to Anthea when she asked for an update. I had no idea how I was supposed to tell her I’d already hit a roadblock.
There goes the restaurant critic position and your dreams.
“If this place is still dead in an hour, I am dragging you to that new club near our apartment. We didn’t get all dressed up on a weeknight for nothing.”
“Roxie, you host parties on weeknights at the gallery regularly. This is nothing new for you.” I eyed my best friend. She was the only girl I knew that could make a pair of latex pants look stylish and not like something out of an adult movie.
“Exactly, but you rarely go out. So I’m not wasting this opportunity to have drinks on a weeknight with my best friend.” Roxie reached out to clink her glass against mine.
As if on cue, the doors to Whiskey Locker opened and a squad of well-dressed men walked in together—expensive watches glinting on their wrists and country-club-style vests providing them some break against the chillier evening air, suit jackets already ditched.
“I take it back. Matcha latte girl did not lead you astray,” Roxie leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Fair warning, I’m overdue a long night with an attractive man.”
“Noted,” I replied. That was Roxie’s way of letting me know that if the opportunity presented itself, she would leave with someone. But only if I was comfortable.
The group of men stopped at the bar first, and as if it were a rite of passage to complete their finance bro look, each of them ordered an Old Fashioned. With their drinks in hand, they began scanning the bar for their entertainment for the night.
A man with short, neatly trimmed auburn hair caught my eye.
He was engaged in a conversation with his friends, likely discussing the news that had broken this morning about Rooster.
According to an anonymous insider, the world’s first search engine had become too large and too driven by profit.
The source leaked details about a deal the CEO was finalizing today, which could potentially lead the company into legal trouble.
Social media had been going crazy all day about the plummet the company’s stocks took.
But despite the deep conversation he was in, he flashed me a smile and excused himself from his group.
“Incoming,” Roxie whisper-sang as the man approached us.
Blue eyes.
A small scar on his left eyebrow.
A full beard that matched his hair.
Wait? Was that a small silver hoop in his left ear?
“How are you doing?” He leaned one arm on the table next to me, Old Fashioned still in hand. “I’m Mark.”
“Hallie.” I stuck my hand out for him to shake.
His hand wrapped around mine and I waited for the same shiver to run down my spine when James had first shaken my hand last Friday night.
It had been a while since I’d dated seriously in New York.
I’d always found it wildly impossible before.
So, I took my interaction with James as mere excitement to be putting myself back out there again.
But no shiver ever came.
“Hallie. That’s a beautiful name,” he said as he slid into the open seat next to me.
“What do you do, Mark?” I asked, even though it was painfully obvious.
Nevertheless, Mark’s eyes lit up as he explained to me he was an investment banker.
Within a matter of ten minutes, I learned that he’d attended Brown and was a member of Delta Sigma.
By the time he finally took a breath, I’d drained my entire glass of wine.
“Can I get you a refill?” Mark asked me.
“Please, a Riesling,” I told him, suddenly thankful to be sitting in silence once more.
Without the article looming over me, there was no way I’d even let this guy get me a drink, never mind be hoping he’d ask me out on a date.
I would probably pass out from boredom before we even shared a kiss.
Maybe this assignment was going to be harder than I’d originally planned.
A few of Mark’s friends patted him on the back as they walked by, their eyes glancing back toward me and Roxie. One friend hiked his head in our direction before making his way over, smiling at Roxie.
“It’s about damn time,” she huffed. “I look way too good to not get at least a little flirt in tonight.”
“Maybe switch to an espresso martini,” I suggested. “Nudge me if you hear me snoring over here.”
“Oh, please. I have no plans to let this man talk about work.” Roxie fluffed her dirty-blonde hair before turning on her megawatt smile. It was mesmerizing watching Roxie suck the poor guy into her vortex, charming him like a snake whisperer.
He doesn’t even know what’s coming for him.
I glanced back toward Mark to see where he was at with my glass of wine, only to find him wrapped up in a conversation with someone eerily familiar.
Tall.
Dark.
Handsome.
Unmistakable blue eyes that I could see from here.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
James caught my eye over Mark’s shoulder and gave me a quick wink—like we were in on something together, even though I had no idea what it was. Then he turned his attention back to who I had hoped would be my first potential date and cuffed him on the shoulder as if they were old friends.
The bartender placed my fresh glass of wine before Mark, who was now fully distracted by James.
Of course.
After James had vanished from Michelle’s dinner party without leaving so much as an email address or social media handle, part of me wished to never cross paths with him again.
That he’d just be another blip in a long string of strange New York encounters.
But now, here he was, standing in front of the one person I’d made an effort to connect with tonight, siphoning off his attention with a wink and a pat on the back.
Why was he even here ? This place wasn’t exactly known for its moody cocktails or understated charm—it was packed wall-to-wall with Patagonia vests and high-yield egos. The kind of bar where the drinks were overpriced, and someone was always bragging about Series C.
I pushed away from my seat, catching Roxie’s eye for only a second.
She was fully immersed in her conversation, effortlessly commanding the attention of the man sitting next to her.
She had that gift—blending in effortlessly, like she belonged wherever she landed.
It was a trait I envied. I always felt like I needed an instruction manual just to get through a conversation with a stranger.
Roxie’s eyes slid from mine to look over toward Mark and widened when she realized who he was talking to.
I moved closer, my heels clicking louder than I intended, just in time to overhear Mark say, “Seriously, man, your market report on Rooster was genius.”
Rooster?
I paused mid-step.
All the news could talk about was the leadership shake-up the company was facing and an investor freak-out on Wall Street today.