They had met at The Tombs in Georgetown four years ago while Cora was waiting for Aaron to finish a round of darts. Maggie was sitting at the bar trying to get the bartender’s attention while ignoring an unsteady baseball-capped frat guy pushing up to her. Cora happened to be standing behind the guy and eavesdropped as he got to work.
“You’re cute,” he slurred to Maggie. “But you’d be so much cuter if you didn’t have that thing on your arm.” He ran his finger down her intricate elbow-to-shoulder mermaid tattoo.
Maggie pouted prettily. “You don’t like Esther? I got her after I finished working as a mermaid in the Weeki Wachee show in Florida. She’s very special to me.”
The guy ignored Maggie’s obvious opening to talk about mermaids and opted to insult her again. “Florida, huh? Most Florida people are white trash, but you’re not so bad.” He eyed Maggie from head to toe.
Cora picked up on what he was doing right away—cutting Maggie down with backhanded compliments to weaken her confidence and make her more open to his advances.
Maggie giggled. “Thank you!” She seemed oblivious, but her manner verged on sitcom southern belle, all flirty shoulders and fluttery hands. It was too much, too over-the-top. Couldn’t the guy see that she was playing him?
“So what brings you to Georgetown? You here to try to score a rich guy?”
“Maybe...” She lowered her head and looked up at him through her lashes. This woman was candy-coated poison. “Is that what you are?”
Cora held her breath as the guy laughed and leaned in closer.This is going to be good.
“Or are you a prick who thinks negging is cool?” Maggie’s demeanor changed from boozy flirt to strident in an instant. “Listen, fucker, Igraduatedfrom Georgetown and I just got accepted to Yale to get my MFA, so why don’t you move on with your pickup artist bullshit, okay? You are adouche!” She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted into the crowd. “Hey, ladies, be careful, this guy is a pickup artist loser!”
Maggie was attracting attention, the guy was grabbing at her menacingly, and Cora wasn’t sure what was about to happen, so she stepped forward.
“There you are!” she playacted. “Come on, let’s go!” She took Maggie’s hand and threaded her through the crowded bar.
When they reached an open area near the men’s bathroom Cora turned to Maggie. “I heard everything he said and you were awesome! But I didn’t want it to get out of hand—he looked like he wanted to punch you.”
“Seriously, right?” She shook her head. “Anyway, thanks for saving me.”
Cora cocked her head. “I hate to pry ... I heard pretty much everything you said ... wasanyof that true?”
Maggie laughed. “What, I don’t look like a Hoya to you? All of it is true, right down to the Weeki Wachee mermaid gig. I’m a theater major and I can play a pretty convincing idiot when I have to.”
They spent the rest of the evening huddled together trading stories and laughing until their stomachs hurt. Skipping past the awkward new-friendship courtship dance, they progressed immediately to BFFs, becoming roommates six months later.
“It’s on in ten minutes,” Maggie said, pulling Cora from her reverie.
“What is?”
“Look at you, ignoring the obvious. Aaron’s show,America’s Hottest Landscaper.”
Cora had resisted researching the show for a week, staying true to her total Aaron blackout. When she finally gave in—at a year and a half post-breakup she felt she could handle it—she was pleased that she could find only the show’s description and cast bios. It seemed thatAmerica’s Hottest Landscaperwould debut to little fanfare, which meant that she wouldn’t have to watch the rest of the world fall in love with her ex. The twelve contestants fit all the reality show stereotypes: the underdog, the hot girl, the grizzled veteran, the sweet mom, the party boy, the spoiled brat, the fish out of water, the out and proud guy, and on and on until Aaron’s category.
The dreamboat.
Aaron had his shirt off in his bio photo. The photographer had caught him mid-dig with a shovel so his arm muscles popped from the exertion. His dark hair was spiked up with sweat. His tanned face was turned toward the camera, and he grinned directly at it, as if he saw his best friend behind the lens. He looked friendly, happy, and absolutely heart-stoppingly beautiful. Bastard.
Cora joined Maggie and Fritz on the couch in their tiny family room. Her friend reached for her hand.
“You okay with this?”
Cora sighed. “Do I have a choice? I feel like I’m going to vomit. But better to see it than wonder about it, I guess.”
The show unfolded in typical reality show fashion, with an upbeat adult contemporary theme song, quick cuts of the cast, and the introduction of the female host. Cora felt clammy the moment she saw Aaron. She watched him and exhaled slowly, like someone trying to calm down after a scare. Seeing her ex-fiancé in pictures was one thing, but seeing him in action, smiling and laughing and captivating everyone around him, made her head hurt. And her heart.
“This is what theater has become.” Maggie sighed. “We watch each other do lawn work and go on dates and buy houses and flip tables on television. It’s gross. I’m so glad I opted out.”
Cora didn’t reply. Maggie’s “opting out” of her acting career was more a matter of never truly pursuing it. She was obscenely talented but lacked drive. She’d fallen into a part-time job at Saks that turned full-time and decided to stick with it, always making vague threats to chuck it all and move to New York or Hollywood. In the meantime she turned the sales floor into her stage, performing her butt off for the dowagers and dot-com wives to bring in better commissions.
“It’s insane, but he wanted this so badly. I can’t believe he actually made it happen,” Cora said.
