Page 21 of A Searing Acquaintance
“He’s much nicer than you seem to think. Make an effort, will you? He’s Charles’s best friend.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Elizabeth teased. “After all, he buys expensive gifts for his friends. Even for Caroline? What’s the deal there?”
“She’s his best friend’s sister.” Jane shrugged. “That’s it. Anything else is all in her head. Trust me, the guy she thinks is her Prince Charming sees her as the poison apple, or a frog.”
“Jane!”
“Well, it’s true. I feel sorry for him when we’re all together. He gets stuck with her. They each need to pair off with someone else, pronto.Him first, though. She won’t settle for anyone until she sees he’s taken.”
Elizabeth didn’t respond.Darcy, the hunted and Caroline, the huntress. He avoids eye contact but ends up with lipstick on his cheek anyway. They both sneer at my sister, the evil Jersey gold digger. And he won’t date Caroline, but he gives her Christmas presents? Talk about sending mixed messages. At least I’m not the only one who can’t figure out how his mind works. I just know he’s a jerk. A confused, arrogant man who walked away from the best thing he’ll never have.
“Lizzy?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you like your job. You seem to be having fun.”
“True. If I’m lucky, this book might be a stepping-stone. The guy I’m working with, the sports agent, has some contacts at the publishing house, so I think I’ll get a meeting aboutmybook. I hope.”
“The one about the blacklist? That’s fantastic.” Jane yawned.
“Um-um.”
“Cool. I love Fifties fashion. So who is this agent? Is he cute?”
“He’s not bad.” Elizabeth burrowed her head into her pillow. “Ultra charming, but in a smarmy kind of way.”
“What’s his name?”
“George. George Wickham.”
CHAPTER FIVE
He wasn’t as cute, as clever, or even as well-connected as Elizabeth had hoped. But George Wickham did have charm and a thick Rolodex—or what passed for one in the contact list on his iPhone. And she needed to get ahold of a few names totally out of her reach if she was going to get this coffee-table book wrapped up and to the publishers by May.
It was for this reason alone that Elizabeth trudged through the late January snow to meet him for coffee. Did that mean she was using him? Maybe a little, but at least he wasn’t hard to spend time with. She’d met George a few weeks earlier at Blackie’s, a sports bar near the Philips/Hill offices. She was with a large group from work watching the Knicks lose, and he was hanging out with what he called his “band of brothers.” She cocked an eyebrow at that overused phrase. “Really? Did you fight together side by side on St. Crispin’s Day or just hang out and watch Netflix together?”
He smiled perhaps the whitest smile Elizabeth had ever seen—she was sure it would glow in black light—and assured her that he and his boys were united by two important, all-consuming bonds: their fantasy football league and the fact that none of them, though nearing thirty, were yet married. “We won’t give up the first, but one or two of us are yearning for hearth and home.” She nodded and wondered how sports-obsessed metrosexuals who gambled could qualify as husband material.
It wasn’t until she learned he was a sports agent that Elizabeth could set aside her first impression of his blindingly shiny façade and start a normal conversation about sports, the book project she was working on, and the athletes she’d like to include in it. And it was pretty amazing that George happened to know half a dozen of the names she mentioned. “Derek Jeter? No problem.” Her hopes swelling, they exchanged numbers, and he vowed to follow up.
Since that initial meeting, Elizabeth had secured two of the big names she’d sought, exchanged e-mails with a few others, and sat down and interviewed perhaps the largest man she’d ever met: an Alabama boy turned all-pro defensive linebacker. He looked like a fearsome giant until he broke into a gentle smile. She wondered what it would be like not to have a neck or to have biceps and triceps bigger than an average person’s waist. It was a great interview, and he shared a wonderful story about Bear Bryant, the venerated college coach turned into a saint by Crimson Tide fans. Elizabeth was thrilled and couldn’t wait for the biggest catch of all; George said he was well acquainted with a number of current and former Yankees players. He had lots of stories, and she couldn’t help but notice a natural charisma that appeared to win over everyone they encountered.
Although she kept their meetings to her office or a lunch table, Elizabeth did enjoy spending time with him. She knew college sports, but through George and his contacts, she was also learning a lot about the inside game of professional sports. He seemed interested in her, too, especially after he overheard her on the phone insisting to Jane that she didn’t want to go to any happy hour that included the Bingley sisters.
“Bingley? Do they have a brother named Charles?” George put down his coffee and looked at her curiously.
“Yes, my sister’s dating him.”
George looked stricken. “Oh. That means his friend is hovering about…Darcy? Poor little rich boy Darcy?”
Elizabeth’s phone chimed, signaling a text. She ignored it and peered at him closely. “Yes, the illustrious Fitzwilliam Darcy. You know him?”
“Much to my great misfortune. He is the bane of my existence.”
A chill enveloped her. “Exactly how is it you know him?”
Wickham looked bleakly at her. “You wonder why I spend so much time with my buddies? Because they’re the band of brothers who took care of me after Darcy ruined my life.”
