They left early the next morning for New York. She was jittery when they landed, excited to be back in the city for the first time since she had been fired from her job with the Times.
Their luggage was carried out to a waiting town car that whisked them downtown. This was a far cry from the last time she had been in the city over Christmas break, but she wasn’t complaining. Brady lived a certain lifestyle. He preferred first class to coach, a town car to a taxi, and designer suits to jeans and a T-shirt. It wasn’t a life she was accustomed to, and it was strange to think that it was her life now.
The driver dropped them off in front of an apartment building in Chelsea and promised that he would be on call when they needed him next. They walked inside and had the receptionist call to let them up. Chris was on the fourteenth floor at the end of a narrow hallway.
Brady knocked on the door and Chris greeted them with a big smile.
“Hey, man,” Brady said.
“About time you got here.”
The guys reached out and hugged each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in ages.
“Liz,” Chris said, turning his attention to her. “I always knew you’d be back.”
“That makes one of us,” she joked. They hugged and then he let them inside.
The apartment was a decent-size two-bedroom. It had a really homey feel, with brown suede furniture, a wooden coffee table, and framed photographs everywhere. It fit Chris’s personality. Where Brady was all politician charisma, Chris was totally laid-back. And when they were together, Brady seemed to feed off of Chris’s eternal good mood. They had been friends their entire lives and loved each other liked brothers. She wished Chris were around more often.
“Y’all have good timing,” Chris said. “I took a half day and just got back. Let’s get out of here. We have to meet Mollie for her lunch break.”
Brady sent a message out to the town car and it met them at the entrance when they got downstairs. Chris gave the driver their destination and then they were swept through the city. Liz stared out the tinted window at the skyscrapers they passed. Brady and Chris seemed to be discussing the finer merits of the NBA draft, which she promptly tuned out.
Soon enough the car stopped in front of a gray stone building. The building was decorated in rich reds and browns with low lighting and exquisite chandeliers. The bar took up a large portion of the room, but there were private dining spaces along the far wall and a second level to accommodate smaller private parties. The hostess took them to one of the upstairs tables, where a slender woman with straight shoulder-length brown hair sat by herself staring at the menu.
“Mols,” Chris said, drawing her attention. She looked up from her menu with a soft smile.
“There you are. Did you get caught in traffic?”
“Some.” Chris bent down and kissed her cheek. “As promised, Brady Maxwell and his girlfriend, Liz.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Mollie. Chris didn’t tire you with his antics already, did he?”
“I was bored to tears,” Brady joked. Chris sighed heavily as he plopped into the seat next to Mollie.
Liz slid into her seat. “He was just fine. Don’t listen to Brady.”
Chris slung an arm over the back of Mollie’s chair. “No, really, don’t listen to Mollie. She thinks I can talk your ear off.”
“You can,” she said.
“She just thinks I do it all the time.”
“You do!”
Liz giggled just as the server arrived to fill drink orders. She perused the menu and her eyes bulged. Lobster as an appetizer. This place was classier than the sundress she had on. Oh well, Brady hadn’t said anything, so she must be fine.
The waiter brought a bottle of wine for the table and poured out the glasses for everyone. Mollie held her glass out in front of Chris. “Do not let me drink more than one of these. I have to go back to work.”
Chris winked at her. “I’d never encourage inebriation at work.”
“Looks like Liz is going to have to be my advocate. Chris likes to get me drunk. Watch my back.”
“Sure thing. Where do you work?” Liz asked her.
“At an advertising company. Right now I mostly focus on women’s fashion.”
“Chris tells me you work with some pretty high-end clientele,” Brady chimed in.
“I do actually. Some of the outfits are beautiful and some are hideous, though. As with all fashion, I suppose. Either way, I love it. Plus it’s how Chris and I met, actually. He came to my company’s Christmas party and we totally hit it off.”
“That’s one way to tell the story,” Chris said with a laugh. “I was there with someone else, but I left with Mollie.”
“Isn’t that obligatory at company Christmas parties?” Liz joked.
“I thought so,” Chris said.
Mollie rolled her eyes and swatted at him. She redirected her attention to Liz. “What do you do?”
“I . . .” Liz paused. What exactly did she do? Before she would have said she was a reporter or a journalist. Now she didn’t really have an occupation, so she went with the closest thing. “I’m a freelance writer.”
“Ah,” Mollie said, averting her eyes.
“She’s very talented,” Brady said, “and has been writing very sought-after pieces online.”
“Oh really?” she asked. “Where?”
“The Washington Post recently quoted me regarding a piece I wrote on education policy,” Liz said.
“Well, that’s brilliant,” Mollie said, seeming more enthusiastic at hearing the Post mentioned. “Doesn’t Brady work in education policy? Wasn’t that what you were telling me, Chris?”
“Oh, hmm?” Chris asked, oblivious. “Yeah . . . on some committee in Congress.”
“The education committee,” Brady offered.
“That’s the one.”
“You two complement each other,” Mollie said. “That’s good long-term.” She placed her hand on Chris’s arm.
Liz leaned into Brady with a sigh. At least she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Shortly afterward the waiter came to take their orders. The conversation shifted back to the guys’ basketball addiction, since they had played in college. Mollie seemed to tune out as much as Liz did. Liz caught her eye and they both started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Brady asked, pinching her leg under the table.
“You two and basketball.” Liz rolled her eyes. “You could talk all day about it.”