“From nerves or from drinking last night?”
She lifts her chin, showing me that this woman has a lot of pride and she plans on displaying it often. “Nerves. I had two drinks last night.”
“If they were made by Mika, two drinks are more like six.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she says, swiping her hand at me. “What matters is that there’s nothing I want more than for all this to be over. I hate that I got myself into this mess, and now that I have to dig myself out, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t find joy in my demise.”
“Demise?” I say as I rock on my heels. “Babe, a demise would imply there’ll be death at the end of all this. From where I’m standing, you’re looking pretty healthy.”
“First of all”—she holds up one finger—“do not call me babe. Second of all, if I screw this up, I might as well throw myself off a cliff, because there’s no way I’ll be able to step foot in my office building ever again.”
“Wow, seems like high stakes.”
“Yes, it is. And I’d appreciate it if you’d go along with my plan, and in return, I’ll do anything you’d like—within reason. I’m not into sexual favors.”
The corner of my lip tilts up. “Good to know, but I need nothing from you. I have everything I need.”
“There has to be something in this for you.”
I shrug. “Nah, just something to do on a Friday morning.”
“That makes no sense. There must be something you want.”
I shake my head and rock on my heels. “Nothing.” I then take a look at my watch and say, “Also, if you don’t want to be late, you better set the scene for me. Are we talking about a grounded act? I’m assuming it will be in the sauce.”
Her nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Different types of improv.”
“Oh my God, this is not… This is not a classroom skit. This is real life.”
“So in the sauce. Got it.”
She presses her hand to her forehead, looks around for a second as if she’s calming herself down and counting to ten. After a few seconds, she says, “Look, we’ve been married for five years. We met at the bar. We had a whirlwind of a romance, got married too young, and now we both want different things.”
“What do I want?”
“I don’t know,” she says.
“Well, don’t you think that’s a question this guy is going to ask?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I want children, and you don’t.”
“Technically, I think children are pretty awesome. Wouldn’t mind a few.”
“Okay, but this isn’t about what you personally want,” she says. “This is just a character. So the Wilder that goes in there, he doesn’t want kids.”
“Sure. I mean, I don’t like it, but I can go with it. If anything, I’m adjustable.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
“What do I do for a living?” I ask, not moving as she starts to walk away.
She turns around to face me. “Uh, I don’t know… Sell pharmaceuticals.”
“I know nothing about the pharmaceutical industry.”
“Can’t you make it up?”
