“Still working that out.” I keep my answer vague.
“What about the bachelor of the year article?” she presses. “I heard you’re having a photo shoot for that one tomorrow. Going for something similar to the quarterback spread you did before leaving?”
An uneasy feeling comes over me. “Not sure yet.”
“You know, it’s okay if this whole thing is a flop,” she tells me. “It’s your first time as a writer and photographer. You shouldn’t have too high of expectations.”
What the fuck? What kind of thing is that to say to someone?
“Uh, Blaire, I’m not worried… ”
“When do you think you’ll be back?”
Now this is feeling like an interrogation.
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “Hey, listen, I gotta go. We’ll talk again soon, okay?”
“Oh… okay.” She sounds more than disappointed. She sounds frustrated. “See ya.”
“Bye.”
I quickly hang up the call and stare down at my phone for several moments. What the hell was that? Something about that call was just… off. Not like typical Blaire.
Trying to push my unease away, I go to set my phone down, but then change my mind and type out a quick text to the girls.
Rylee: Hey guys! I have a feeling I’m going to need a break later. Anyone want to hang out this afternoon?
One by one, they reply in quick succession.
Skyler: I’m sorry, Ry. I can’t today! Putting a conference presentation together on the schematics of my latest game.
That sounds smart and nerdy, but I know Skyler just eats that shit up.
Stacey: I can’t either, sorry! Millie has a doctor appointment.
Fair, fair. Gotta take care of the kiddos. Holding out for Grace…
Grace: I’m out too, babe. Meeting with a potential new client.
Well, shit. Why’d I have to be friends with such brilliant, busy women?
I glance toward the kitchen and cabinet where the tequila is hiding. Maybe I’ll just stay in…
Wait, no! I’m not going to just stay in the apartment by myself getting shitfaced all night. How pathetic would that be?
Rylee: No worries, all! I can go do some exploring. Get really touristy
Grace: Might I suggest the Cherry Creek Shopping Center? Good place to go if you’re in need of retail therapy.
Ah, perfect. Grace knows me so well.
Some retail therapy is exactly what the doctor ordered.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: BLACKJACK
ZANDER
The apartment isquiet when I get back home. So quiet, I’m pretty sure it’s empty.
