Juliana takes a long sip of her drink. She ordered a hot cappuccino, and Shelly has an iced Americano. Adult Shelly, Juliana notices, still chews on the end of her straw the way College Shelly did. Because the straws are paper this habit now results in a shorter, messier chew, but there you are, habits are hard to break.
“Well. Honestly, I’ve just been working. It’s all-consuming, running a company like mine.”
Shelly nods sagely and says, “I bet. Never mind spending all the money!” She chortles. (Adult Shelly chortles quite a lot.) “Not married?”
“Nope.”
“Too independent for all that, I bet. Or just haven’t found the right person?”
Juliana hesitates and looks around the café. There’s a line now: teenage girls in tiny shorts and bikini tops, a sandy family already done with the beach, a toddler wiping his eyes and saying, “No no no NO.”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve dated plenty. Not that much in college, but after, sure.”
“Yes, queen,” says Shelly supportively.
“Once I found the right person,” says Juliana. She can’t believe she has just confessed this to Shelly. “But he was taken.”
“Oh, that sucks,” says Shelly with what seems like genuine feeling. “Was he married? I’ve been involved with a married man before. Trust me, it’sno bueno.”
“Not then, but he is now.No bueno,” agrees Juliana. “Definitelyno bueno.”
Shelly’s straw is now a lost cause. She removes it altogether, then whisks the plastic top off her cup and begins to drink it that way. “You remember Mary Ann? From BC?”
“Of course I remember her. We were roommates freshman year. That’s how I met you, Shelly.” Juliana allows herself an internal shudder. Freshman year at BC had been challenging. (All of the years at BC had been challenging.)
“She lives in Greenwich, Connecticut, and has three kids! Can you believe it? Three kids already! I don’t think I could even handle a cat.”
“Wow.” Juliana can believe it, in fact. It seems like exactly what Mary Ann would be doing. Lots of barre classes and competitive healthy eating, a nanny.
That wasn’t fair.
Maybe she did yoga instead of barre.
The coffee is gone; the whoopie pies are gone. Juliana begins to do all the little things you do when preparing to leave a table: wiping crumbs with a napkin, stacking her mug on top of her plate. All of this to give the hint that she is ready to go. The pretty teenager swoops by and says, “I can take that.”
“Hey, Maggie,” says Shelly, and the teenager says, “Hey, Shelly.”
“Before we go,” says Shelly. “Do you need any help with LookBook?”
Juliana feels like this emoji:??“What kind of help?”
“Publicity, etcetera. I could help you, you know.” Shelly leans conspiratorially over the table. “I’ve been working as a publicist to the stars.”
“Oh, yeah? What stars?”
“Lots of stars.”
Juliana considers inserting her own chortle, thinks better of it, and asks, “For example?”
“All kinds. Books, theater. I’m publicity-fluid. I coined that phrase. Do you like it? This summer I’m working for Buchanan Enterprises.” Juliana blanches, and Shelly, seeing this, says, “Do you know them?”
Careful, Juliana, careful. “No,” she says. “I’ve heard the name, is all.”
“Okay, well, I’ll be honest, one of the perks of working for them is spending a lot of time in their house. And that’s a perk because there’s this guy staying with them, a friend of the Husband Buchanan, and he’ssucha hottie. Jack Baker. He gives major Justin Trudeau vibes.”
“Justin Trudeau? The world leader Justin Trudeau?”
Shelly blinks at her. “Of course. Don’t you think JT is sexy?”
