Lie, Lie Again(49)

Moving past her words like she was swerving to avoid roadkill, Sylvia said, “It also creates a situation in which it’s easy for people to misrepresent who they really are.”

“Blech. Like the guy who posts a great picture, and when you meet up for the date, you realize he’s the sweaty bald one in the corner who leers at you like he’s been locked in a men’s prison. I’ve read all about that,” she said, adjusting her napkin in her lap. “Hence, my need for advice.”

Sylvia’s mind drifted back, trying to pin down the name she’d used. Buffett was the last name. That was easy to remember because she had researched it so thoroughly, but what was the first name? She still had the gorgeous Prada handbag William had given her. They’d been out for an alfresco lunch in Beverly Hills and had decided to walk along Rodeo after. Sylvia had squealed and taken his hand, pulling him into the store to see the purse up close. A salesclerk had stepped over, crooning about the beauty of the bag. How easy she’d made it for Sylvia to slide into the role of the shopper, the moneyed one who could buy whatever she desired. She’d smiled at the salesgirl and asked to see it in taupe. That had sent the girl scurrying to get her what she wanted. When she’d returned with it, Sylvia simply nodded and started to take out her wallet. She had been deliberate about the process, knowing if she didn’t act too hastily, William would slip his Amex Black Card from his wallet and pay.

As if she were a mind reader, he’d done just that. “Let me get it for you. It can be my one-month anniversary gift for you.”

“No, no,” she’d said softly. “You don’t have to do that.” She’d touched his hand reassuringly, and that was all it took.

“I insist.”

Shortly after that, William had started asking too many questions, so she wiped her burner phone and dumped it in a trash can outside a Chinese restaurant on Lincoln. It had taken only thirty minutes to remove her fake social media profiles and voilà! Carrington—that was the name—Carrington Buffett had vanished. No one had been hurt in the process. William had enjoyed her company, and she hadn’t made any promises, the way Hugh had.

Dowdy Sarah interrupted her thoughts. “Sylvia, did that ever happen to you?”

“Hmm?” What was she even talking about? Thankfully, the server arrived with a tray of drinks. Once he left, Sylvia raised her glass. “To finding you a nice man, Belinda.” They clinked and sipped. As Sylvia placed her vodka on the table, she said, “I suggest trying to find someone you already have a connection with, whether he’s a friend of a friend, someone you meet at the gym, or even someone who’s browsing the same section of a bookstore.”

“I agree.” Sarah quickly sucked on her straw as though she’d said something scandalous.

Sylvia offered a kind smile. “Really? Did you meet your beau that way?” She never used the word beau. It was a buttoned-up, old-fashioned word, but she thought Dowdy Sarah would respond to it like a dog to a bone.

Sarah took another sip and blushed. “Sort of. He’s not someone special yet. I have my eye on him, though. He works in the accounting department.”

Accounting. Oh, hell. Sylvia had forgotten to make her car payment. She’d have to do that once she got back to the office. Or not. There was a fabulous pair of Jimmy Choos that had been marked down to nearly nothing at Nordstrom Rack. Well, nearly nothing for Jimmys. And it wasn’t like someone would tow her car if she missed a payment. She could make a quick sob-story phone call. People really did love to help. And the shoes were amazing. They practically had her name on them.

She took a swig of her vodka and enjoyed the burn in her throat. Belinda was asking Sarah questions, and Sylvia thought she’d probably need another vodka before lunch was over.

“He’s handsome in a nice sort of way, like he’d be a good listener. He looks friendly, is what I’m trying to say, I guess.” Sarah looked from Belinda to Sylvia, silently asking permission to continue with her cute-boy story. When they said nothing, she plowed on. “And when I saw him a few Fridays ago, he was wearing a short-sleeve polo shirt, and his arms . . .” She smiled and covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh my gosh, you guys. His arms are like Tim Tebow’s, and I thought, I want to meet him, like, meet him and date him.”

“Clue a girl in. Who is Tim Tebow?”

“Heisman Trophy winner? Great quarterback in college. He’s played for the Broncos and the Jets.” The server returned bearing a tray full of food and, apparently, an endless supply of sports facts.

“Who knew?” Sylvia said with an artfully raised brow.

Sarah blushed again as the server walked away. “Do you think he heard me?” she whispered.

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “He was responding to me, so no, probably not.”

“Right. Good. Um, his name is Sal Mendel.”

“I’m stuck on the short-sleeve polo shirt. Why is he wearing that to the office?”

“Casual Friday.”

Sylvia smirked. “I don’t do casual Fridays. If I’m at work, I’m dressed for work.”

“Well, you have the clothing for it. You always look so polished.”

“Thank you.” A sign to buy the shoes if there ever was one.

“You should try to meet this Sal guy,” Belinda said. “Let me know how it goes. Maybe he’ll have some nice single friends, right?”