“Yeah, well, a lot of people would love it here. People who can afford it, so if he can’t, he’s going to end up out on his ass.”
“Violet, is that any way to treat a man who served our country for forty years?”
Glaring at me, she says, “He was amailman.”
“And a damn fine one at that. He got everyone their packages, rain or shine. Remember Hurricane Irene? He didn’t miss one letter that day. Not one. The man is a legend.”
“A legend whose grandson is getting on my last nerve,” she says, but I can tell by that grin she’s trying to hide that she doesn’t mean it.
I smile at her. “That’s a very nice dress. Green is definitely your color.”
“It’s a muumuu and I’m only wearing it on account of all these damn hot flashes.”
“Still suits you.”
“Seven hundred dollars by next Friday or I’m telling Jack the truth.”
“There won’t be any need to tell him anything because you’ll have your money.”
I hope.
3
The Ugly Truth…
Paige
It’safter eight o’clock in the evening by the time I walk through the door of my airy apartment, dragging my suitcase behind me. My eyes are burning and my shoulders are slumped, and if I met me on the street today, I’d say to myself, “What is wrong with her? There’s a girl who needs to get her shit together.”
“Paige? Nooo!!! Don’t tell me you haven’t left yet,” Vivian says, peering at me from over the top of her computer screen.
She’s sitting at her desk in our living room, as per usual, and without asking, I know she’s searching for the next topic for her lifestyle blog,Blissful Living. Vivian is huge among women twenty-one to twenty-seven, and makes a killing as an influencer. She got in early, worked hard, and has made something of herself, which is exactly what I’m trying to do. We met in college and moved to New York together to live out ourSex in the Citydreams of boozy brunches on Sundays, coffee house chats, and wilddating stories. We immediately abandoned the brunches and the men in the quest for success, and honestly, I regret nothing. Vivian is the reason I’m not living in a three-hundred-square-foot studio with a view of some dumpsters, and instead am able to share a whopping thousand-square-feet in Murray Hill with a view of the Empire State Building. She’s also the reason I don’t pack up my things and slink back home to Philadelphia in spite of senior twatwaffle.
She winces, then says, “Please tell me they closed the Caribbean and not that you decided to postpone again, because if you postponed again, Tiff is never going to forgive you.”
“I postponed again,” I tell her, abandoning my suitcase in the small entryway and flopping onto the sage green velvet sofa. The sofa—like almost all of the furnishings in the apartment—was a sponsored product from an up-and-coming company. It’s crazy how much free shit Vivian gets, just by smiling and tossing her long blonde hair while she talks about cookie recipes and candles. But of everything she’s been given, the velvet sofa is my favorite. Other than it attracting every speck of dust in the neighborhood, it’s deliciously plush and cozy and I love it, especially on a chilly winter night when I’m basically devastated. Like tonight.
She walks over and plunks herself on the light beige swivel armchair. “He made you stay?”
I nod. “I live on Guy Time, remember?”
“You know that’s not a thing, right? It’s just some shit he made up to keep you running twenty-four seven.”
“I know, and I’ll get off Guy Time eventually, but not today. The meeting with the Vialis people went until six o’clock and they want the night to think it over.”
She reaches over and puts her hand on my knee. “Paige, you’ve got to quit. I mean, it was bad enough when he made you drain his dog’s anal glands, but this is unforgivable,” she says, fully annoyed on my behalf.
“I can’t quit. Not after putting in six years of my life there.”
She shakes her head at me. “Then set some boundaries because this is insane. He seriously can’t manage this one little crisis without you?”
“It’s a massive crisis, and apparently not,” I say, leaning my head against the soft sofa and closing my eyes. “They’re going to reconvene at seven tomorrow morning and give him their final decision. I had to cancel his flight home, rebook a bunch of appointments and meetings he had, and find him a hotel room for the night. But it’s okay because I’ve got a flight at noon. which will put me there just in time for the rehearsal dinner. I’ll miss the actual rehearsal, but honestly, what’s there to know? I wear the dress, I hold the bouquet, and I follow the other bridesmaids.”
“But what if…?”
“If he tells me to delay, I won’t do it. He can fire me or keep me on, but either way, I’ll be on a plane tomorrow at noon.” I pick up my peach bellini lip balm off of the tray on the coffee table and put some on, letting it soothe my lips and calm my nerves.
She grimaces, then says, “How’d your family take the news?”
