A Not So Meet Cute(11)

“Aren’t you cute.”

She chuckles. “Seriously, though, you never know who we might run into. Haven’t you heard those stories about people who meet an investor on an airplane and next thing you know, their product is in every Target in the country?”

“No,” I answer. “I haven’t heard those stories.”

“Well, they happen. You never know who you might run into.” She laughs. “You could possibly meet a rich husband, walking these streets.” She glances at me and then looks me up and down. “Well, not dressed like that, but—”

“You know, that might not be a bad idea,” I say.

“What? Meeting a rich husband?” Kelsey asks. “Sis, I was joking.”

But it’s not a joke in my head. And, yes, it might be the tequila—what little we had—talking, but there have to be men around here looking for someone to marry, right? Some singletons looking for a romp on their luxury mattress that could very well turn into a lifelong coupling? I’m not opposed to impressing with my sexual exploits to snag a man. Remember, DEFCON 1.

“No, this could be something.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Kelsey says in an exasperated tone. “Lottie, I know you’re desperate, but we need to be smart-desperate. Finding a rich husband isn’t the solution to your problems. What are you going to do, get married next week?”

“Love can happen that fast.”

“I’m going to stop you right there—this isn’t a solution. We need something concrete, something we can control.”

“No.” I gesture to the houses around us. “Look at these places. You can’t tell me all these people are living the perfect life. I bet there are some bachelors here looking for someone to keep them warm at night.” I point to my chest. “That person can be me. I’m warm. I have snuggly arms, and I’ll put out. I have no problem with such behavior.”

“Jesus, help me,” Kelsey says, pressing her hands together while looking up to the sky.

I lift my phone and open my browser.

“What are you doing?” Kelsey asks.

“Looking up how to snag a rich husband.”

“Lottie, you’ve lost it. Truly, this is an all-time low for you.”

“Precisely, which means I can only go up from here. Oh, look.” I point at my phone. “An article on how to impress the rich.” I click on it and start scrolling. “It says they like braids.” I look up at Kelsey. “Rich people like braids? Do your clients have braids in their hair?”

Kelsey thinks about it. “I mean . . . I guess I’ve worked with a few who have the cute mini braids in their hair.”

“Okay, braids—check.”

“Lottie, you can’t be serious.”

Desperation consumes me, and once I’m fixated on something that I think will save me from my current situation, I go all in. So . . . yes, I am serious.

“Classy clothes, nothing scandalous.” I glance down at my shirt. “Think they would like this Taylor Swift shirt?”

“No,” Kelsey says. “No one likes that shirt. It has holes in the armpits.”

“Unless you’ve experienced the kind of breeze received from these holes in the armpits, you have no opinion on the matter. But noted, the rich might not enjoy it.” I scan the article. “Makeup, sophisticated conversations. Knowledge on a vast array of topics.” I think about it. “Do I know a lot of things?”

“What kinds of things?”

I scan the article again. “Doesn’t say, just a vast array of topics.”

“Uh, I mean, you know a lot of random facts about reality TV.”

“I do.” I perk up. “That can be entertaining.”

“Probably not for someone who brings in enough money to afford a twenty-four-million-dollar home.”

“Hmm, yeah, maybe you’re right. Not to worry, I’ll peruse Wikipedia, brush up on some knowledge.”

“Yeah, because Wikipedia is the place to do that,” Kelsey says sarcastically and then stops to face me. “I think we really need to focus here, Lottie. Come up with a valid idea. I know this isn’t what you want to do, but maybe you can ask Ken if you can—”

“No,” I say, turning away from her and continuing to walk down the manicured streets. “I’m not contacting Ken.”

“But he’d have a job for you, you know he would.”

“Ken is out of the question. I’d rather rub my boob on some drunk man’s face than call Ken.”

“Is it because he’s dating Angela now?”

My jaw grows tight as my lips twist to the side. “No, I just don’t feel like crawling back to my ex who left me for my boss after I introduced him to her. Begging him for a job at his lame freight-shipping company is something I’ll never do. Seriously, my boob on a drunk man’s face is so much more appealing than that.”

“You know he’d help you,” Kelsey pushes.

I shake my head and then turn around to head back home. “This is useless. We should be thinking of useful ideas, not walking around, coming up with ideas like calling up my ex for a job. Honestly, Kelsey, you’re not bringing your A-game today.”

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night and I think that margarita mix was old.” She holds her stomach.