Twitter Girl

This is one helluva hot guy sandwich for two gals from Staten Island.

Ripley no longer looks cold.

***

The Giants are up by ten as we get close to halftime. I don’t think Ripley’s watched one single play (not that I expected her to) as she’s bounced her conversation between Becker and Vinnie. She’s also managed to hide her lack of football knowledge by jumping up and cheering whenever everyone else does. I’ve been talking football with the Senator and Andrew as the game hits the two minute warning.

“Okay,” says Becker, eyes riveted on the field, “if they can just avoid a mistake in the last two minutes.” He’s obviously a true fan as he hasn’t mentioned politics once.

“Wow, the game is going fast,” says Ripley.

“Not too much passing in this wind,” says Vinnie. “Ground game eats up the clock.”

“True,” says Ripley. She looks at me and shrugs.

I give her an eye roll and she shoots back a Cheshire cat grin. She’s actually pulling it off. As we say in television news, if you can fake sincerity you’ve got it made.

“Oh, we’re going out to eat after the game,” says Becker. “A friend of mine has a restaurant with a private back room. Hope you girls like Italian.”

“Who doesn’t?” I say.

“Cassidy, you want a snack during halftime?” asks Andrew.

“Hey, I’m a growing girl. I’ll have whatever you’re having. Long as it’s something hot.”

The Giants are stuck deep in their own territory as the game resumes and decide to run out the clock for the first half with three straight runs. The gun sounds and the crowd cheers as they head into the locker room with a ten point lead.

And then Ripley blows her cover as she jumps up and yells, “Yay, they won!”

The guys start laughing and I’m biting my lip. “Ripley, it’s just halftime,” says Vinnie.

She sits down. “Oh, right. I knew that.”

But the men aren’t buying it.

“Ripley,” says Becker, turning to face her as he tries to hold back a grin. “Look at me.”

She turns to face him and smiles.

“Who are the Giants playing? And don’t look at the scoreboard.” He puts up his hand to block her view.

Her smile slowly fades. “They’re… obviously playing a team that isn’t worth a damn.”

“Who are they playing? Name the team.”

“Thuuhhhhhh… Red Sox?”

We all double over in laughter as her face turns red. “Sweetie, the Red Sox play baseball,” I say.

“Oh.”

“You’ve never watched a football game?” asks Becker.

She thrusts out her lower lip in a pout and extends her arms like she’s waiting to be handcuffed. “Guilty as charged.” (Of course, when she uses this bad little girl look it turns men into quivering globs of flesh.)

“Not a problem,” says Becker, now smiling at her, obviously charmed by this.

Another eye roll from me.

“Thought I’d try something new and get to know everyone a little better,” she says, doing some damage control. (The girl is in advertising, after all.)

“I think this might be a good time for a trip to the ladies room,” I say as I squeeze by Becker, grab Ripley’s hand and lead her up the stairs. When we’re out of earshot I stop and turn to face her. “I thought you were gonna read that book?”

“I did, but it was confusing. I mean, a fly pattern is in a Simplicity catalog, what’s it doing in football?”

“What’s even more bizarre is the guys think it’s so cute.”

“Part of my charm, as you like to say.”

***

Ten minutes later we return to our seats and find two of the guys have played musical chairs. Andrew and Vinnie have switched seats.

“Excuse me, Sir, may I see your ticket stub,” I say to Vinnie as I sit down.

“Hey, not fair for Andrew to hog you the whole game. Besides, he needed to get to know Ripley and I wanted to spend some time with you.” He locks those dark eyes with me and my heart flutters.

Day-umm.

I glance over at Ripley and she’s beaming. And after being her best friend for so long, I know what she’s thinking.

Can this get any better?

And after the game, it does.

***

We’re in good spirits after the Giants win, and need some real spirits because we’re all frozen. A limo is waiting outside the stadium, exhaust coming out of the tailpipe and a chauffeur standing by the door. He smiles and holds the door as Ripley and I quickly get inside. We take seats on opposite sides as the guys slide in next to us. Thankfully the thing is toasty warm with the heat blowing full blast and we both whip off our gloves and hold our hands next to the vents while I eye the fully stocked bar. Becker and Andrew are on my side with the Senator next to me while Vinnie grabs a seat next to Ripley.

“Little cramped on this side,” says Andrew, the only guy stuck not sitting next to a woman. He moves across the compartment and sits on the other side of Ripley, leaving her between two cute guys while I share my side with Becker, who starts taking drink orders. He leans over to play bartender as the limo pulls away. Ripley and I lock eyes for a moment, exchanging non-verbal best friend communication as we both do our best not to beam.

Three hot guys, two girls. Do the math.

CHAPTER SIX

@TwitterGirl

Air Becker off to frozen New Hampshire this week. Will try to convince Marvin Hensler to stick his tongue to a flagpole.

There’s a definite spring in my step on this Monday morning. The Giants won, Ripley and I had a great dinner and drinks with three very eligible men last night. (Vinnie and Andrew helped pour us out of the limo when they dropped us off at my place. Becker couldn’t exactly do it, as he didn’t need to take a chance of ending up on the Page Six of The Post helping a couple of drunken staffers to the door.) Vinnie, whose body did not disappoint when he removed his parka at the restaurant, asked for my phone number while Andrew got Ripley’s. So even though we’re still in the Becker sweepstakes, our dance cards are not empty.

However, this semi-intoxicated conversation after we got inside had Sam howling:

Ripley: “So, you got a date with Vinnie?”

Me: “And you got a date with Andrew.”

Ripley: “Who do you like the best?”

Me: “Of the three guys? All of ’em.”

Ripley: “Yeah. I like them all too.”

Me: “And I think they all like both of us.”

At this point Sam interrupted by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to America’s newest dating show… Caligula’s Palace!”

While this three guys and two girls romance polygon sounds like some sort of sixties commune, right now it makes for a very pleasant working environment.

Ah yes, back to the task of getting Becker elected president. This job, as you may have noticed, could seriously play havoc with my social life.

Frank wants me to check in first thing every Monday with Tyler, so I bounce into the conference room where I find him slumped in a chair yawning. “Late night?”

“Yeah, T.G. Didn’t get done watching the game till one. Wedding went on forever.”

“How was it?”

“The over and under is two years. Though I personally give it nine months.”

“That bad of a couple, huh?”

“Well, not many people know it but she got herself knocked up to trap him into marrying her.”

“I thought women were past that.”

“Most are, the bride was not. If you knew her, you’d understand.”

“Let me guess… bitchy and unattractive?”

“Correct on both points. One of her cousins was at my table and referred to her as Hannibal Lecter with boobs.”

“Why do men put up with that?”

He smiles, flicks his wrist and makes a whip noise.

“Oh, that.”

“And, as you would say, she has a good face for radio. You oughta see her complexion. Had to apply makeup with a paint roller. I think she was goalie on her high school dart team.”

I crack up at that line as he offers a soft smile. His eyes are a little droopy, and I can tell he’s not his usual upbeat self. “If you don’t feel well I can come back after lunch—”

“Nah, I’m okay. I’ll just pace myself today. I’ve been through this before. But I always remind myself it’s a blessing.”

“What’s a blessing?”

“My condition.”

“Not sure I understand, Tyler.”

He sits up straight and his eyes get a little misty. “My first job was in lower Manhattan, in the World Trade Center. On my usual Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule. The 9/11 attacks were on a Tuesday. That’s the only reason I’m still around. I had always wondered why God gave me this condition and that day I got my answer. Ever since, I’ve known He put me here to make a difference. If I’d been born with a normal metabolism I’d be dead like a lot of the friends I lost that day.” He gives me a soulful look that makes my eyes well up a bit.

“Well, they say God works in mysterious ways. You have such a positive way of dealing with challenges, Tyler. You’re a lot like my brother.”

“Mine is no big deal compared to your brother, from what I read. Anyway, we all have certain gifts, even if we don’t know they’re good for us sometimes. Maybe God blessed you with sarcasm to change the direction of the country.”

“Interesting way of looking at things.”

“Speaking of which, that little town hall thing up in the Live Free or Die state offers all sorts of possibilities.” He hands me a manila folder with two sheets of paper inside. “We’ve got a few plants in the audience and those are the questions they’ve been given.”

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