“Oooh, look at J.J.’s plans for the salon.” Viv slid the plans over and shared them with Libby.
The conversation moved away from D.J. and to the salon chairs. They asked her about products and Stone Stirling. They also laughed about the need for facials and exfoliation.
“I used to be so dewy! It feels like an elephant's hide,” Viv said as she ran her hand on her cheek, which looked lovely but could use a buffing.
J.J. smiled, enjoyed the company of her Sandbar Sisters, and even revealed that Stone Stirling, sometimes, seemed like a nice human being. They all said they’d found that to be true of late. Such a strange twist for the man who a few short years ago had planned to bulldoze the very spot they now sat.
They all enjoyed their second glasses of wine together. And J.J. did feel like she’d helped her friends take a little load off.
For her, though, it was an act. A heavy pit had settled in her stomach when she realized that D.J. had lied to her. And that, without hesitation, she’d lied too.
ChapterFifteen
2004
“You’ve got the meeting with Duke Braker at one and the bid due today, too.”
“I know. I know. That’s why I told Branch Development that they’d get the proposal tomorrow. It can wait a day.”
J.J. felt her fists curl into balls and her blood pressure go up. J.J. was not going to let this business fail. Itcouldn’t.
“That’s not going to get the job for you. Showing from the get-go you can’t make a deadline.”
“I can make a deadline.”
Dean was filling his thermos with coffee. J.J. darted around him, making sure the Capri Sun was in D.J.’s lunch and the Sunny Delight was in Austin’s. God forbid she mixed it up. They didn’t have the same lunch period, and this was a problem so monumental that they’d likely never recover. Or at least that was what happened the last time she’d accidentally switched the lunches, and no one managed to figure out how to drink what was in their backpack for one stinking day. Pushing a straw through a pouch was Austin’s Kryptonite, apparently.
But the issue this morning was pushing Dean, not a stupid straw.
“I know you can make deadlines, but they don’t know that. You’ve never done subs for Branch Development, and they have a million options. Why in the world would they pick the guy who can’t get the bid in on time?”
While J.J. rattled off the litany of reasons not getting the bid in today was bad, very bad, she wrote Austin’s name on one bag and D.J.’s on the other.
She needed more bags, more baggies, and to put the wash in the dryer before they all left for the day, or else it was going to smell like mold in there. And then there were parent-teacher conferences.
Dean appeared to have read her mind about the conferences.
“I’m going to be at the school for the parent-teacher conference. I promised, and it’s my turn.”
With two jobs, they divided the school meetings between them, though most of the time, it felt like J.J. was the one in the chair hearing about this IEP for Austin or that pizza sale committee volunteer sign-up for the P.T.A.
She knew today she needed to do the parent thing, and he needed to get the bid in. Whatever it took.
“Look, you need that job, we need that job. Forget the teacher conference. I’ll do that.”
“You’re booked. I saw.”
J.J. had been taking every color and cut she could find to help pay down the credit card debt they’d accumulated buying equipment for the construction business.
She ran through the available options for the meeting, the clients she had booked, and Dean’s business commitments. They were all spinning plates threatening to crash down at any moment. The big picture was Dean’s business; she believed that was the future for them, even if he sometimes didn’t see it.
“No, listen. I’ve got this all covered, the boys and my bookings for today. Just get the bid done and in. That’s the priority. Boys! The bus is on the way!” She yelled it, and Dean winced.
“I got ‘em.”
Dean and J.J. went into the hall, and miraculously, two little boys were there, backpacks at the ready.
“Your shoe’s untied, Austin. And D.J., try not to use your sleeve today.” J.J. handed him a little pack of tissues. He shoved them into the pocket of his jeans.
