It was only a hunch that Shannon had heard about this from Erin. A hunch and an opportunity to rattle her cage about her born-again relationship with the baby of the family. Tiel could've outed me, although if it had been her, I knew she'd kept the details to aminimum.
"Is this woman the same one from the pool table?" Mattasked.
Still searching for that laptop. My fingers landed on a pen, one of those nice fine-tipped Sharpies that always went missing, and I studied it for an entire minute before shakingmyhead.
"No, not the woman from the pool table," I said to Matt. Uncapped it, inspected the point, recapped it. "That was…noone."
Just someone I used to forget aboutyourwife.
"Okay, not the pool table girl," Matt murmured. "Do we even know who that was? My money's on one of Patrick's assistants. Seemsfitting."
"Oh,pleasetell me that's not the case," Patrick said. "And it isnotfitting. Leave my assistantsalone."
"It's the great mystery of our time," Sam mused. "Who did Riley fuck on my pool table? And when? And should I light itonfire?"
"Can we please get back to cocktail party girl?" Andy asked. She gave a mason jar filled with dark orange liquid a vigorous shake, and then unscrewed the cap. I couldn't tell whether this morning's cold-pressed creation was a blend of carrot or beet juice, and I wasn't asking. That shit horrified me. It was right up there with yogurt. "I want some pertinent details onthislady."
"I'll have you know Erin didn't tell me," Shannon continued. "Tiel did. She said you got all spiffed up. Suitandtie, and that you cleaned out your car before leaving thehouse."
"And I thought that girl was my Alfred," I muttered intomybag.
I opened my notebook, paging through it in search of something else to divert my attention. Between dashed-off designs and checklists for each day were my first attempts atThe Adventures of Gastro Girl. She existed as disembodied parts—hands, face, ass for days—and aggregate swag—boots, tiara, amulet—but I could see where it was going, how it would fittogether.
"Have youevercleaned out your car?" Patrickasked.
"Haveyou?" Tom askedPatrick.
Andy shook her head. "RISD's car is always clean," she said. "Patrick's, too. It's Matt who collects coffee cups by the dozen. It's like he's building an altar to Starbucks in hisbackseat."
Matt glowered at her. "It was one time," he said, holding up a finger to demonstrate. "And it wastwoemptycups."
"And a thousand napkins,"Andysaid.
"Shut up right now," Shannon yelled. "Hush, all of you. Not another word." She shifted in her chair, one hand on her rounded belly, and faced me. She offered a quick smile, and then her gaze darted to the tacos. "We'd love to hear about her,Riley."
That was the thing about Shannon. She didn't fuck around, especially when pregnant-hungry. What little time I'd had to prepare myself for the full-court press of my siblings was over. I plucked my laptop from my bag,nodding.
"Her name's Alex and she's from Nevada. She's a gastrointestinal surgeon and has pictures of truly disgusting things on her phone. She has green eyes and many pairs of red shoes and a twin brother, and she loves avocados. That's all I have to say to youjackals."
I set my laptop on the table and my bag on the floor, and silence yawned around me like the quiet before a wave crashed down on the shore. And then everyone talkedatonce.
Patrick: Well, that's great. Let's get backtowork.
Andy: How oldisshe?
Tom: Where'd youmeether?
Matt: Patrick, when are you going to understand this? We can't get back to work until we reach the bottom of the important shit, and in our world, theimportant shitis never business-related.
Shannon: When do we get tomeether?
Sam: Is anyone else astounded we're not talking about Magnoliarightnow?
Matt: Is this the gastro surgeon from Nick'sbuilding?
Sam: Am I the only one who was convinced he was hooking up withMagnolia?
Tom: Was this a Nick-and-Erinfix-up?
