Rebound (Boomerang #2)(3)

People dance at the center of the room and on the patio outside. A DJ is set up on a small platform in the corner. Everywhere I look, it’s a churning sea of colorful masks and costumes. Aliens. Stormtroopers. Flappers and angels. They’re all here.

Cookie, my head of marketing, comes over and joins us. As a group of six now, we take over one side of the bar, and as the drinks flow, the laughs grow louder. Rhett had his upper body waxed to be Tarzan tonight and Sadie and Pippa want the details, strip by strip. Riveting stuff.

My employees are people-people, like me. Being socially comfortable is a necessary quality to be on my team. I sell personal connections—and that starts with the corporate culture. But they’re also tight-knit. It’s not unusual for them to congregate together before diving into the social fray, which they’ll do effortlessly when they want to.

“It’s so, so awesome,” Sadie says, as the conversation shifts to Cookie’s costume. “What is it again, exactly?”

Cookie scowls and sips her Midori sour. “None of your concern,” she says, but her free hand does a nervous sweep over her silver gown. It has a high neckline, long sleeves, and a small train, sparkling with tiny encrusted crystals.

In a word, it’s severe. In a few words, she looks like the Chrysler Building.

“She’s the evil witch in that Disney movie,” Paolo guesses. He crosses his foot at the ankle, striking a pose. “You know the one with the white hair?”

“Cruella de Ville?” Sadie says. “Maleficent?”

“Do either of those have spiky white hair?” Paolo shakes his head. “Geez. You don’t know Thing One about Disney witches. Ha. See what I did there?”

“I know! Elsa from Frozen!” Sadie guesses. “That’s why you did all the blue eye shadow, right, Cookie?”

When Sadie’s locked into something, the girl’s unstoppable.

“Cookie’s not a Disney character, you guys,” Pippa says. “She’s the witch from the Narnia movie. Look at her shoulder pads. She’s, like, the Ice Queen or whatever.”

“The White Witch, you illiterate little shits,” Cookie blurts, like she can’t take it anymore. “But you’re all wrong.” She shakes her head. “Jesus. You’re like human Novocain. I can actually feel my brain going numb.”

“I have a question,” Paolo says. “How do you feel numbness?”

“Should we do your annual reviews right now, children?” Cookie asks. “What do you think?”

That stops the conversation dead. Everyone takes the moment to sip his or her drink, terrified but also fighting back laughs. Pippa, Sadie, and Paolo report directly to Cookie, but everyone’s afraid of her. Even though she’s just a big, soft Yeti monster. Cookie just has that kind of arctic charm. I trust her right down to her frosty heart, though.

Most people think success is built on brilliant ideas, but they’re wrong. Success is built on brilliant ideas placed in the hands of great people, and I have a talent for finding those. My team can be a little eccentric, but they’re dedicated and loyal, and excellent at their jobs—Cookie included.

Pippa and Sadie decide the DJ is hot and disappear to run that down. A half second later, Paolo decides the same thing and leaves as well.

I wait until Rhett’s preoccupied with the bartender before I lean down to Cookie’s ear. “You forgot it was a costume party, didn’t you?” I ask.

Cookie looks at me, her lips pressed in a thin line. Then she nods. “Yes. But don’t tell them.”

I knew it. She’s dressed as herself. I wink. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

She excuses herself, claiming she needs some fresh air, but I know she’s just going to find ways to torment Paolo. I see that Rhett has donated his bananas to the bar. With him and the bartender in a deep discussion concerning daiquiri mixes, I study the room.

A petite girl in a skintight camo dress and combat boots catches my eye. Her smile sends me a clear message. She’s cute but not my type. Closer, a girl dressed as Sailor Moon checks out a tall cowboy in a white Stetson. His back is turned to her, but he must sense her attention. He turns and touches his hat, giving her a cowboy salute, and her smile goes wider.

I take another sip, marveling at the connection that’s happening right before my eyes. Amazing thing, attraction. Powerful. A lot of money to be made from it. Which I’ve done.

With Boomerang, I’ve captured the fun of playing the dating game in a sleek website and created a thriving online community. It’s made me enough to afford the things I love. Good food and surfing vacations. A house on the sand in Malibu and a car that suits my affinity for raw speed. The best thing about Boomerang, though, is that it’s a constant reminder that relationships with women should be kept strictly fun—and very temporary.

The DJ must have met Pippa and Sadie because the song “You Sexy Thing” starts playing, and the two of them come bouncing out to the dance floor.

“I love this song,” Rhett says at my side, then he’s singing. “I believe in miracles. Since you came along!”

He belts it out like he doesn’t care. I join him for the chorus.

“Dang, Adam!” Rhett says, looking at me. “You can really sing!”

“Nah. You’re just comparing me to yourself.”