The She-Hulk Diaries (15 page)

I saw some attractive career types heading toward the elevators. “I guess it’s time,” I said, and smoothed down his hair again. “We’re going to do great!”

Nelson and I took the elevator upstairs to the penthouse bar. A bleached blonde at the reception table flipped back her hair and said, “Hi, I’m Wendy,” I swear to God! I wished I could ask her to repeat it so I could sneak a video for Dahlia.

We took our name tags with our academic credentials listed in the lower left corner, and we looked nervously around the room.

“Let’s get a drink and do reconnaissance,” Nelson whispered.

“Okay,” I said, but we stopped in our tracks when the event organizer tapped a mic and announced that it was time for speed introductions.

Nelson looked as if he’d been tossed out of a lifeboat when I was herded with the other girls to a long table with numbered plastic bags and handed four stickers.

The organizer said, “This is our lightning round and our sexy single girls have five minutes to sniff each T-shirt and mark the four—and four only—that get their engine revving. Happy sniffing!”

I frantically turned to the pretty brunette beside me. “What are we supposed to do? I didn’t see anything on the website about T-shirts.”

“It was announced last week. Every guy slept in a T-shirt for three nights. If we’re attracted to their pheromones, it’s a good indication that we’ll like them,” she said. “That’s the theory, at least, but I predict some stinkiness and lots of cheating.”

The organizer announced, “At the end of the lightning round, our sexy single girls will have five-minute chats with each of their four favorite musky males!” Which made me want to run out of the room, but I couldn’t
because the hostess said, “The clock starts NOW!” and I got swept up in the rush to the T-shirts.

It was outside my comfort zone, so I gathered my nerve and shuffled into the sniffing line. Shirt #1: pizza and sour sweat. Shirt #2: Bengay muscle rub. Shirt #3: fabric softener. Shirt #4: faint aftershave and something nice. Shirt #5 and #6: Calvin Klein Eternity for Women, which I guessed meant that two of these guys were sleeping with the same woman. Shirt #7: marijuana and chocolate, yum. Etc.

I put stickers on the least offensive ones, and then I caught sight of Nelson, looking uneasy in a corner.

The organizer rang a bell and said, “Sexy single girls, sit at the table indicated by the number on your name tag, and we’ll start round two so you can meet your musky hunky selections!”

She really said that. I was trying to text Dahlia under the table, but my first choice came along, the guy whose shirt smelled of fabric softener and something nice, which was probably his skin.

His was about six-two, and trim and muscled under a narrow-fitting suit. He was nice-looking, with brown hair and gray eyes, and I thought that maybe there was something to this matchmaking.

We smiled, and he talked right away saying, “Hi, Jen, I’m Ryan. Thanks for picking my shirt. I’m a veterinarian and a vegetarian, basically v-things.”

“I’m an attorney and a—”

“Attractive,” he said. “Very. What kind of law do you practice?”

I hated sounding as if I was bragging, but this was part of the romantic arbitration. “I’m a specialist in superhuman law, and now I’m working on a complex biotech, intellectual property, and fraud case, so I really have to get up early to make it to the gym.”

“Wow! So you know superheroes?” he said.

“And supervillians.”

“What’s your favorite workout?”

“I’ve been training in martial arts for a while,” I said with a smile.

“Really? I’m on a volleyball team, indoors in the winter and beach volleyball in the summer, and I run daily with my Ridgebacks.”

“I want to get a dog,” I said, and I was thinking that Ryan was a really nice guy when the bell rang again.

He was my favorite of my four best-smellers, but the most popular smelling guy in the room was the pot-and-chocolate T-shirt dude, who was tubby and bearded. Women were clustered around him, trying to edge one another out.

I watched Ryan talking to other girls, who were laughing and touching his arms and shoulders. I was trying to steel myself to talk to him again, but when I looked for him after the round, he was nowhere to be seen.

I found Nelson and said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t know they would be doing this.”

He shrugged and said, “My T-shirt would probably smell like cinnamon mouthwash and Old Spice deodorant anyway. Did you meet anyone you liked?”

“Yes, but he vanished, so I guess he wasn’t interested in me. Do you see anyone you want to talk to so I can wingman for you?”

“I’d rather wait. I learned that the next meet-up is an Italian cooking class, and I’m a pretty good cook.”

While Nelson went to get our coats, I read flyers for upcoming events just to have something to do. That’s when I felt someone’s arm come from around my right shoulder to grab my left shoulder.

I acted instantly—grabbing the forearm with both hands, throwing my hips back out to unbalance my assailant, and bending forward quickly to flip him over my head and flat onto the reception table.

Ryan crashed down with a loud cry, and everything on the table smashed to the marble floor. A girl shrieked and the pot-and-chocolate guy said, “Dude!”

I said, “I’m sorry, Ryan! Oh, my god, I’m so sorry!”

A man rushed forward and said, “I’m a doctor! Don’t move him,” and someone else said, “You’re a dermatologist.”

I tried to help Ryan, but he was groaning and saying, “My back! Keep her away from me.”

While I was hovering nearby, a man in a dark blue suit appeared with
the event organizer. He looked as if he was there in an official capacity, and I said, “He surprised me…”

Nelson tried to help by saying, “It wasn’t her fault. She’s got multiple black belts and was only reacting!”

“I’m trained to subdue,” I said quickly.

The man in the blue suit reached toward me, and Nelson added, “And also trained to kill!” and the man pulled back his hand.

His voice was low, but firm, and he said, “I’d like you to come down to our security office for a moment. You can give us your version of what happened there.”

Nelson was nice enough to wait for me, and luckily a security camera had caught Ryan sneaking up on me with a flirty grin on his face. When the doctor (dermatologist) reported that Ryan was fine and Ryan himself confirmed that he wasn’t going to press charges, I was escorted out of the office and told, “Ma’am, we do not tolerate violence and we ask that you not return.”

Ma’am!
Rubber chickened once again.

Nelson suggested a bistro right there on West 44th. I was skeptical that it could be any good and doubted that we’d get a table. The owner was Nelson’s patient, though, and offered a small table in a corner. The mussels and sea bass were wonderful. As we shared a chocolate soufflé, I told Nelson about the allure of the pothead who smelled like chocolate, and he said he was going to put unwrapped Hershey’s kisses and medicinal marijuana in his pockets the next time he tried to meet women.

As we parted ways, he said, “At least we tried going out and meeting people, and it wasn’t as bad as the first time I met you.”

“We’ll have to iron out the bugs in our technique so that we’re not harassing or assaulting potential dates. I’ll see you at the Forestiers fight practice.”

“I don’t think you need any practice fighting, Jen.”

“I need practice not to break someone’s back. Do you have a game name yet?”

“The Gnashing Newt. I’m a spy who sneaks around and is always
playing one side against the other, and is a talented strategist. I can slide in and out of places almost invisibly. Also, I love festivities and play the lute, which I actually do, almost. I’m teaching myself, but I play guitar. What about you?”

“I’m LadyGreene, whose lands have been stolen, but her family is cold-blooded, so she sides with the peasants. She has healing powers and is a fierce swordswoman, and she’s always hiding out from her power-mad ex.”

It wasn’t until I was halfway home that I realized that Nelson hadn’t spoken in questions, which was a good thing. Another good thing was that Ryan had come to flirt with me. Maybe my negotiation tactic worked!

The bad things: Blacklisted from yet another hotel. Unjustly ma’amed. Nearly killed a PFLOML.

I was already expecting to spend Valentine’s Day alone when I went to Quinty’s weekly meeting. After we’d given our case updates, Quinty cleared his throat, set his monocle in, and scrunched his eye to hold it in place. Why a monocle?

“We’ll expect everyone to be here for our annual Valentine’s Day party on Saturday,” he said, and directed a smile to me. “I was so preoccupied starting this firm that I didn’t realize our first official day of business was Valentine’s Day until I got home and my wife reminded me—in no uncertain terms! Since then we’ve always celebrated QUIRC’s anniversary on Valentine’s Day so my wife is assured of a celebration. You’re welcome to bring a plus-one.”

Woohoo! Now I have something to do on Valentine’s Day!

All I have to do is find a suitable office-party date. It won’t have the heavy romantic implications of asking someone to dinner. What attorney wouldn’t jump at the chance to network at QUIRC? This will be a piece of cake!

I called an associate at GLKH, but he’d gotten engaged.

Subsequent invitations were declined for these reasons: out of the country, didn’t remember me, had square dancing class that night, wanted to know if his mother could come, too. “Mom’s lots of fun. You’ll love her!”

I told him that I was sorry, but I was only allowed one guest.

Most of the guys at the Mansion were serious and accomplished, so I called Ruth to ask who was around. My phone call rolled over to the main switchboard and the operator said, “Hi, Ms. Walters. Ruth is busy helping decorate the ballroom for our big Valen—I mean, she’s running errands. If this is urgent, I’m happy to help!”

“No, it’s fine,” I said. “Tell her that I’m, uhm, sending over some Joocey Jooce coupons to share with the volunteers.”

Quinty said I
could
bring a plus-one, not that I
should
bring a plus-one. After all, he’d forgotten about Valentine’s Day because he was engrossed in QUIRC.

Called Dahlia:

I ordered a gourmet gift basket for Donner and a collection of cat-motif potholders and tea towels for Ruth. I also bought a KEEP HANGING IN THERE! mug for Nelson. I feel that I’ve got a firm grip on this usually knotty holiday. I’m a month ahead on points for my goals, and the QUIRC party will give me 50 more points. It would have been 100 with a date, but a date was only
part
of that specific goal.

Now that I’ve developed romantic mediation skills, I should have a real actual boyfriend very, very soon. Next up: finding a fantastic apartment!

Woke up thinking back to Valentine’s Day when I was with Tony. He asked me what I wanted and I told him that I’d never been to Paris. He said he’d take me for the weekend, and I actually thought he would. However, with Tony it was always
Sorry, babe, I had to save the planet from imminent destruction and got sidetracked
. For some reason, petite bombshells were always critical to the world-saving process.