Chapter 195
**Sara**
The cab jerked to a stop, nearly sending my phone flying from my hand. I glanced at the meter and pulled out my wallet, handing over what felt like way too much money for a ten-minute ride.
"Keep the change," I muttered, though there wasn't much to keep. The driver grunted in response, which I chose to interpret as gratitude.
Café Latte's familiar green awning welcomed me as I stepped onto the sidewalk. The morning rush had died down, leaving only a few scattered customers typing away on laptops or scrolling through their phones.
I pushed through the door, the little bell chiming overhead. The smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries hit me like a warm hug.
No sign of Claire yet.
I grabbed a table by the window, perfect for people-watching and judging Claire when she finally arrived late.
"Ready to order?" A waiter materialized beside me, notepad poised.
"Oh, I'm waiting for my friend. She should be here..." I checked my phone. No messages. "...eventually. Maybe next century."
"No problem. I'll check back."
Left alone with my thoughts again, I couldn't help but wonder what - or who - was keeping Claire this time. That girl's dating life was more complicated than my corporate finance textbooks. How did she keep track of all those guys? Did she have a spreadsheet? Color-coded calendar?
Maybe she divided her heart into neat little pie charts—15% for the lawyer, 20% for the startup guy, and 25% for the personal trainer with the abs.
A sleek black Audi pulled up outside, and there she was. Claire stepped out, looking too put together for someone fifteen minutes late. The guy behind the wheel - tall, dark, and definitely new to the rotation - leaned over for a kiss long enough to make the old lady clutch her pearls.
"Get a room!" I muttered though I couldn't help but grin.
Claire bounced back from the car window, giving a flirty little wave as Mr. Audi drove off.
The bell chimed, and Claire breezed in, dropping into the seat across from me. "Sorry, I'm late! Traffic was terrible."
"Traffic in a very expensive car with very expensive lips attached to yours?"
Claire's perfectly glossed lips curved into a wicked smile. "His name is Henry. Investment banker. And those lips? Worth getting stuck in traffic for."
"Spare me the R-rated details of your morning traffic adventures."
"That was barely PG-13." Claire flagged down the waiter with a perfectly manicured hand. "Besides, you need some excitement in your life by proxy."
The waiter appeared, notepad ready. I ordered a vanilla latte and avocado toast.
"Green tea, honey on the side, and..." she studied the menu like it held the universe's secrets. "The açai bowl. Extra granola."
"Coming right up."
Claire leaned forward, elbows on the table. "So, how's life treating you? Still surviving the post-grad wilderness?"
"If by wilderness you mean my couch and Netflix, then yes." I fiddled with the sugar packets, arranging them by color. "Just trying to figure out what comes after an MBA, you know? Real-world and all that scary stuff."
"And the dating scene? Please tell me you're not still moping over that walking disappointment, Matt."
"Matt who? No, I'm just taking a break from all that. Focus on me and my career, and rediscover some hobbies I abandoned during the chaos of my MBA. It's been nice, taking some time to breathe and figure things out without the added pressure of a relationship."
"Sara Parker, the domestic goddess in training." Her eyebrows shot up as our drinks arrived. "But seriously, not even a rebound? A little casual fun?"
"The only thing casual in my life right now is my relationship with job applications." I took a sip of my latte, burning my tongue. "Besides, men are like parking spots downtown - either taken, too small, or so complicated it's not worth the effort."
"That's actually pretty accurate." She stirred honey into her tea. "But you can't hide from love forever. Or at least good sex."
"Watch me." I spread cream cheese on my toast with more force than necessary. "I'm perfectly happy focusing on my career goals. You know, small stuff - like world domination, or at least a corner office."
"Fine, keep your secrets." Claire pointed her spoon at me. "But remember, while you're planning world domination, your ovaries aren't getting any younger."
"Did you seriously just bring my ovaries into this conversation?"
"Someone has to look out for them. They're probably very lonely."
"My ovaries and I have a perfect understanding. They're focusing on their career too."
"Ovaries with MBAs. Now that's a selling point for your dating profile."
"I'm not making a dating profile. And can we please stop talking about my reproductive system in public?" I glanced around, hoping nobody had overheard our conversation. "The barista's looking at me weird now."
"Fine, fine." Claire dug into her açai bowl with surprising enthusiasm. "But speaking of careers - how's the job hunt going? Because I might know some people who know some people."
"Actually," I sat up straighter, finally getting to the reason I'd asked to meet. "That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you today. I need your networking superpowers."
Her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Now we're talking! Why didn't you lead with that instead of letting me ramble about your love life?"
"Because you wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise between all the ovary talk?"
"Details, details." She waved her spoon dismissively. "So, what kind of job are we looking for?"
"Something in finance, obviously." I traced the rim of my coffee cup. "Investment banking, portfolio management, financial analysis - the kind of job where I can put my MBA to use instead of just hanging it on my wall as expensive decoration."
Claire's face scrunched up. "Ugh, numbers. But okay, I can work with that."
"Come on, it's not that bad. At least I'm not asking you to do the math yourself."
"Thank god for small mercies." She took another bite of her açai bowl. "Watching you try to explain compound interest to me that once was pretty entertaining."
"That's because you kept asking if interest rates were like Instagram likes - the more you get, the more popular you become."
"Hey, that analogy kind of worked!" She pointed her spoon at me. "Sort of. Maybe. Okay, not really."
"So," I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "How quickly do you think you could help me land something? I'm kind of on a deadline here."
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Honey, with my connections? I could probably get you something by the end of the week. Maybe even tomorrow if the stars align and Mercury isn't in retrograde or whatever."
"That fast?" My jaw dropped. "Are you running some underground job placement service on the side? Because last time I checked, you worked for a fashion magazine, not a recruitment agency."
"Please." She flipped her hair dramatically. "I just happen to know a lot of people who know a lot of people. It's called networking, darling. Though now that you mention it, a side hustle in career matchmaking could be interesting."
"Claire..."
"Kidding! Sort of." She stirred her tea thoughtfully. "And before you ask - no, I don't do this for everyone. You're getting the friend discount because you're one of the good ones. Plus, you clearly need help since you can't even manage to juggle multiple men like a normal person."
"I'm sorry. When is dating multiple guys at once considered normal?"
"Since dating apps became a thing. Keep up, Sara." She grinned. "Besides, you're too focused on finding 'the one' when you should be test-driving different models. It's like car shopping."
"Did you seriously just compare dating to car shopping?"
"Well, yeah. You wouldn't buy a car without taking it for a test drive first, would you?"
"I think this metaphor has gone far enough." I raised my hand to stop her before she could continue. "Can we get back to the job thing? You know, the reason I actually asked you to meet?"
"Fine, fine. Always so serious." She pulled out her phone. "Let me make a few calls. I know this guy who owes me a favor."
"Do I want to know why he owes you a favor?"
"Probably not." She winked. "But trust me, by this time next week, you'll be drowning in job offers."
"You sound like one of those late-night infomercials. 'Call now and receive not one, but THREE job offers absolutely free!'"
"Plus shipping and handling." She tapped away at her phone.
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