Page 21 of So I'll Know
Marion laughs, throwing a ringed hand over her mouth to keep from spraying liquor across the table.
I look at her deadpan. “You think this is funny?”
She swallows and gives me a wide grin. “I do.” I stare moodily at my now-empty wine glass, and Marion sighs. “J, I’ve never seen you like this with anyone.”
“Right? It’s messing with my winning personality.”
“You might need an intervention.” She places her hand over mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. “If you can’t fuck him out of your system, maybe you should let this job go.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You honestly think I should be fucking around with my client?”
She shrugs. “I don’t see the problem. He’s older. He’s exactly your type?—”
“My type?” I scoff. “You don’t know my type. You onlythinkyou do.” Despite Marion being my best friend, I don’t talk about my personal conquests often. This is new territory for me.
“Actually, I do. The minute you swooned over Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, you gave yourself away.”
“Hugh Jackman? I-I-I mean . . .” Marion gives me a knowing smirk, and I cross my arms and look the other way so that I’ll stop sputtering like an idiot. “Whatever. I’m just jealous that Hugh’s actually got body hair, and he’s growly when he talks.”
Marion shakes her head. “No, you want to fuck himbecausehe has body hair and growls.”
I drop my arms and glare at her. She’s still smiling.Asshole.“And Marcus is almost thirty. He’s not that much older than me. A real age gap is like ten years. I’m twenty-six for fuck’s sake.”
“Jeremy,” she says, leaning across the table. “Fuck. Him. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“Uhm, I could lose this job?”
“You’re amazingly talented. There will be tons of jobs, babe.”
“This is Marcus fucking Conner. I’d finally have a famousperson on my résumé. I could be that much closer to opening my own firm.”
She purses her lips. “Would we call him famous?”
I wave my hand. “He’s famous in the business world. I can focus on Hollywood starlets next. One step at a time.”
“Okay, fine, J. But how often do you find your dream guy?”
“I would hardly classify him as my dream guy. He’s physically my type, yes. But I don’t even know him that well.” I spread my hands on the table and bend closer to her. “He could be a serial killer. Do you know how many have originated in the Pacific Northwest alone?”
Marion stares at me blankly.
“The Spokane Serial Killer, the Green River Killer.” I tick them off on my fingers. “And Ted Bundy and Westley Allan Dodd made their rounds here too!”
“Why the fuck do you know all this?”
I sit back and ignore her question. “Plus, and most importantly, Marcus thinks he’s straight, Marion. I’m not sure I want to deal with that drama.” I sigh. “You should have seen him bolt after that blowie—like his pants were onfire. He’s a walking red flag.” I stare at her in horror. “What if Ifall in lovewith him?”
She gives me a flat look, as if that’s not the scariest shit she’s ever heard. “I still think you should fuck him.”
“You are no help at all,” I grouse.
“Are you sure he’s gay?”
I scoff. “I’m sure he’s queer. The tension between us is thicker than Tristan’s gran’s oatmeal.”
Marion grimaces. “Don’t remind me. Worst cure for a hangover ever.”
I stand and reach for my messenger bag. “I need to get home to feed T. He’s going to be mouthy.”
