Page 122 of The Disasters of Dating
Lucky Numbers: 46, 29, 63, 19
I lookin the bathroom mirror of my new apartment and tease one last section of hair. I grin. I want to look just right if I’m going to meet Poppy’s family tonight. I’ve already met her mom, who seems to be the most important one. But meeting Sadie and Brody is also important. I mean, I know they are close as siblings. So if one of them doesn’t like me, it could prove difficult and perhaps even relationship ending.
I put my hair products into the drawer and wipe down the counter before I switch off the light and step into the bedroom. It’s completely empty except for the inflatable bed (I splurged for a nice one that self-inflates and has a headboard). My phone and watch charger is sitting on the floor. My clothes are folded neatly into a basket on the floor of the closet except for my suit and dress shirts, which are hanging above the basket.
It isn’t much yet, but it’s a million times better than the hotel. It’s quiet and I don’t have to worry about my key not working. I grab a box off the kitchen counter. I feel more than a little proud of my choice of hostess gifts. Lowell said no one gives hostess gifts anymore, but Alix and my dad both said it showed class. I tend to err more on the side of class than on the side of Lowell. The box has a ceramic jug of NewHampshire maple syrup and a crock with apple cinnamon butter from a local orchard. I think Mrs. Ashcombe will love it. She seems like a ‘support-the-local-industry’ kind of person.
Then I lift the large wrapped package leaning against the wall.
My phone rings and I grab it, pushing the answer button before checking to see who it is.
I’ve hardly seen Poppy this week because of school and work. We’ve talked on the phone almost every night. And every night I’ve reassured her that I’m coming tonight. That’s probably why she’s calling now—to check again. “Hey, I’m just about to leave, Poppy.”
“Good, I was afraid I’d miss you,” Evan says.
I frown at my phone. “Can we talk later? I need to leave or I’m going to be late.”
Evan releases a deep breath. “I need a big favor, Keaton.”
“Sure, whatever you need. But can we talk about it in the morning?” I grab my keys off the kitchen counter and head for the door.
“No, it can’t wait. I need you to go meet with Matthew Jordans.” Evan sounds serious. “His plane just arrived in Salt Lake, and he says if he can’t meet with either you or me, he’s pulling his support from the deal. And he’ll take the majority of the board with him.”
“So video chat with him,” I say shortly.
“No, he wants to meet with one of us in person. And as I’m in New Hampshire right now, that means the meeting falls to you.”
“Evan, I told you it was important that I’m with Poppy tonight. I told her I’d be there.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to miss it if it wasn’t a multi-million dollar issue.” He pauses, and I feel my blood pressure rising. “Listen,” he says. “Jordans needs his hand held for a little bit. Give him the rundown and assure him that this is the right move. I’m sure it will only take an hour at the most. You may be late, but you’ll still make it to the dinner with Poppy.”
There’s silence on the line. I can’t speak because I’m trying to get myself under control. How is it that everything has been fine until the one night that I need to be with Poppy? Why is it that this is the moment that Jordans chose to come into town? And who just flies into some place without warning and demands to talk to someone right then? Like, where does this guy get off?
“Keaton, I don’t like being in this position, and I don’t likeputtingyou in this position. But this is why I hired you. This is part of your job.”
I clench my fists at my side, and my keys dig into my skin. “Fine. Where am I supposed to meet him?”
“Let me have him call you, and you can set it up.”
“Fine,” I say again. Maybe I can reason enough with Mr. Jordans and get him to agree to meet in the morning.
Evan hangs up and almost immediately my phone rings. “Mr. Lincoln? This is Matthew Jordans. Mr. Barrington said you’d be available to meet me.”
I slowly suck in a deep breath. “Good evening, Mr. Jordans. I’m more than happy to meet with you. Shall we set something up for the morning?”
“No,” he nearly shouts into the phone. “Mr. Barrington made it clear that he explained the situation to you. I fly out first thing in the morning. If you can’t meet right now, then I guess we’ll just have to call the deal off.”
“That’s not necessary.” I backpedal, trying not to let my irritation creep into my tone. “I’m just leaving my house. Where would you like to meet?”
I hear Mr. Jordans sigh through the phone. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“No, I haven’t,” I say.Because I’m coming to meet you instead.
“There’s a restaurant downtown call Ruby Criss. I’ll meet you there.” He says. I’ve never noticed how whiny his voice sounds.
I nod. “Okay. It’ll take me about thirty minutes to get downtown.”
“I’ll get us a table and wait for you there.”
