When you’re out on the town making moves around the upper crust, you’re going to run in to “working girls.”


Say you hit a nice little rooftop fashion event to negotiate some fabric deals and cop some art. Roll in to the join custom fitted peaked lapels. Pure white scarf. Cold serving. Run a lap on the place, making sure to grab cards and put in some face time. Take your drink ticket to the bar and order a whiskey rocks. Girl, full sleeve, hair up and ice all over. I break that down. Somewhere mid convo about her being a plus one she drops, “You’re cute, but tonight is booked.”

Say you’re at a dinner, on invite from the homies. Stop by their spot after closing some deals, ready to kick back and blow trees. Mixed company and some stories are going around. There is a chick there in some faux fur and a choker. Silicon popping out her strapless dress. Topics get to travel and she goes, “The Emirates are fun.”

Say you drop in to visit a second cousin of your Rolly on a trip to The Continent. You all hit a private beach on the West Side and throw back Pils and Reefs. Posted at the bar in some board shorts and a Fitted T. Older cat is there and spit some Fran├žais about business. Chick rolls up decked out. They’re together but not. He heads out to the surf to spark a grit and she stick around. We get to talking real estate timelines and she offers to show me around with a, “I’ll be done with him soon if you’re going to be here.”