I slapped at Bo’s hand away when he tried to grab one, scared that my talking to myself would be the least freakish thing about the morning. Especially when baked goods started floating mid-air before disappearing into a mouth she couldn’t see.
“Don’t touch!” I snapped, and my friend flinched back this time, making me quick to add,
“…All those calories and think of your little Buddha belly, Eliza.”
“Erm… Ooo… kay, so this is weird. I mean, for one, since when do you have a therapist? And two, what kind of professional tells you to talk to yourself in public?”
Well, she had a point there, as therapists didn’t usually advise their clients act crazy among the general population.
“It’s a new technique,” I lied smoothly, the words tumbling out with alarming ease.
“Very cutting edge. Big in Japan,” I added, and Bo even mouthed up at me, silently questioning,
“Japan?”
I rolled my eyes down at him, and Tara’s gaze followed mine to see what I was looking at. Then she stared at me.
“Japan, eh?” she asked in a tone that called bullshit.
“Uh-huh, anyway, I don’t really want to talk about it,” I added, forcing a small, brittle smile.
“New boundaries and all that,” I said after her gaze lingered on me for another second, skeptical but merciful.
“You’re lucky I like you, that’s all I can say.”
“I know,” I replied, meaning it and feeling some weight lift as she took a sip of her coffee.
But then she tilted her head and asked,
“So, what are you doing here?”
I frowned at this, now preoccupied with making my own coffee, now that I had replaced the less-than-perfect muffins back onto the counter.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the presentation… isn’t the client due back here after rescheduling?” she said carefully, making me frown.
“Yeah, well, I won’t be giving it, or did you forget about yesterday’s fiasco?”
She nearly dropped her coffee in response.
“Oh shit, you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” I asked, adding creamer and a shit ton of sugar.
But then I was very nearly wearing another coffee when she told me,
“That you were personally requested to take point at the meeting.”
My mug hit the counter with enough force that it sloshed over my hands, burning them slightly. I quickly stepped to the sink and washed the mess, as I asked,
“What?! Are you sure?”
“Did you not check your emails?”
I shook my head slightly, not about to tell her why that was and what I was doing last night instead.
“Requested by who?” Before she could answer, a familiar voice cut in briskly, already radiating impatience.
