“Maybe because you’re going on a date with Duncan.”
“It’s not a date.” Alice opened her eyes, and Gabby’s pencil slipped down the side of her face.
“Gabs, you heard the woman. It’s not a date,” Oliver echoed from the kitchen.
“Well, now you’ve done it. You officially look like a melted clown.” Gabby picked up the pencil. “And you,” she shouted to Oliver. “Stop taking her side.”
“It’s my duty as the boyfriend of Alice’s best friend to take her side over yours. Them’s the rules of navigating your friendships. There are landmines everywhere. Hey, that’s a good line.”
Gabby leaned against the exterior wall, facing Alice. “When you spend time with a comic, you’ll quickly learn not to say anything that you don’t want warped into a joke.”
“I heard that!” he shouted.
“Of course you did,” Gabby sniped. She found a makeup wipe and smoothed it across Alice’s face. Right away, her pores could breathe again.
“Seriously, though,” Gabby said. “You’re good about today?”
“I wouldn’t have invited him if I didn’t want him to come with me. We’re friends, Gabby. I know it seemed like there might be something more there, but I’m happy with how things are. Honest.”
Gabby didn’t look convinced. “Well, I officially give up. Do with your face what you will.” She wandered inside, leaving Alice alone on the balcony, a table of makeup before her. Alice carefully applied a bit of concealer to the red spots on her face, coated her lashes in mascara. She could hear Gabby and Oliver talking, Gabby laughing, but couldn’t make out what they said. The rhythms of their conversation were natural, comfortable. Gabby was completely herself around Oliver, something she’d never been with a partner before. Alice had given this to her best friend. It reminded her of all the good she brought to her clients’ lives.
“So?” Alice asked when she slipped into the apartment.
Gabby clapped in delight. “You’re wearing the lipstick.”
Sure enough, Alice was wearing the cherry red lipstick Gabby had surprised her with four months before, though she feared it would end up having the opposite of the desired effect, making her feel more exposed than polished, like everyone would be able to see just how uncomfortable she was.
“You look perfect. Olly, doesn’t she look perfect?”
Oliver looked Alice over. “Oh no, I’m not going there. If I say she does—which you do by the way, Alice—then it’ll seem like I’m harboring secret feelings for your best friend, and if I give anything less than complete approval—well I won’t even go there. Like I said before, ladies, landmines.” He scribbled something on his notepad.
“I’m not sure the landmines thing is really that funny,” Gabby said. “And the whole poke fun at your girlfriend and her friends, it’s a little sexist, don’t you think?”
Oliver looked up, wounded. “The whole point of comedy is to go to the edge without going over.”
Gabby went to him and cupped his head against her chest. “My sensitive artist, I’ve offended him,” she said to Alice.
“I’m not sensitive, I’m just not going to take my cues from someone who considersFriendsthe height of comedy.”
“I know you didn’t just disparageFriends.”
Alice watched them volley back and forth over the merits of their very different senses of humor. They seemed to have forgotten she was there.
“I’m just gonna—” She motioned toward the door, but they were lost to her. She needed to get back to her apartment to change for the wedding.
As she was about to step out, Oliver called, “Hey, Alice? You really do look great. Knock ’em dead.” He winked at her before she whispered, “Thanks,” and slipped out.
The courthouse where Coco and Tomas were getting married was a short distance from Alice’s apartment, so she and Duncan had agreed to meet there and walk over together. At the time the plan had seemed so inconsequential, so natural. Now, as he knocked on her door, she panicked. Was he intending to come inside? Alice had not prepared for that. She was not ready for him to see how she lived, her sagging couch, the Georgia O’Keeffe and Frida Kahlo posters on her walls, the record and book collections that spilled from their cabinets onto the floor. This was her private space, no dates allowed, even if this wasn’t a date.
The knocking persisted. Alice opened the door a crack and slipped out sideways. If Duncan noticed her awkward exit, he didn’t let on. He smiled as he looked her up and down, not lasciviously but perhaps with a bit of desire.
“You clean up nicely,” he said, burrowing his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. The accompanying navy blue jacket accented his muscular shoulders.
Alice patted her now-straight hair self-consciously.
“I like the lipstick,” Duncan added. Alice waited for a joke. Apparently that was all he wanted to say.
“You’ll tell me if it ends up on my cheeks or teeth?”
