“They say it’s a bad idea,” I elaborate. “A recipe for disaster.”
Astrid and Hal look at each other, like they’re privy to the same inside joke. “Well,” Astrid says, “our start-up is called Bad Habits, so perhaps it’s fitting.”
“Bad Habits?” My interest is piqued. “What’s it about?”
Astrid opens her mouth like she’s about to tell me, but Hal hushes her. “We’re in stealth mode, remember?” Hal whispers to Astrid.
“Oh, come on,” I say. “I’m not going to run off blabbing toTheNew York Times. Though you should thank me if I did; you’d benefit from the PR.”
“Sorry, EJ,” Hal says. “Stealth mode means keeping it secret from everybody until you’re ready to launch and make a splash.”
“Splash and sink, more like it,” I mutter. “You can’t keep everyone away or your product won’t have any buzz.”
“She has a point, Hally,” Astrid says. I don’t like how she already has a nickname for Hal. It feels like they’re moving way too fast, like Hal’s full-steam-ahead approach has gone too far this time.
Hal seems to consider Astrid’s viewpoint, which isn’t what I expect. “We’ll tell you soon,” Hal says to me. “Just not quite yet. We need to refine our business model before we open ourselves to the noise and input of the outside world.”
“I’m not the outside world,” I remind her. “I’m your best friend.”
“Who has very strong opinions,” Hal says. “We just need to make sure our own vision is clear enough before other people start projecting their opinions onto us.”
“I’m not going to project onto you. I’m just going to help you make your idea better,” I say, irritability rising. “But fine, if you don’t want my help, I’ll just be over here tanning.”
“Don’t eavesdrop,” Hal warns.
“It’s my garden as much as yours,” I say. “If you want a coworking space, go rent an office.”
“You know we can’t afford that.”
“Then I guess I have a bit of bargaining power, don’t I?” But not wanting to upset Hal too much, I add, “Don’t worry. I have my own calls to make anyway.”
And so I lie down on my beach towel and call Chris because he’s the only person I know, except my parents, who’d actually pick up a phone call. And also because we haven’t talked in too long, not since that night he came to Bushwick to collect Arnie.
“Chris,” I say, when he picks up. “It’s me.”
I like being able to identify myself as just “me.” I’ve never had that with anyone before, apart from the Redstockings.
“Emily Jane,” he says. He hasn’t dropped the habit of calling me by my full name, and now I’m starting to hope he never does. It’s a grand thing, making new memories with my old name. Like new life being injected into something I’d left for dead. “What’s up?” he asks.
“Lots of things are up,” I say. “And lots of things are down. We wouldn’t want one squall of emotion without the other, would we?”
“Guess not,” Chris says, and I get the feeling he’s already not following me. He can get lost in my words a lot, and lost in my eyes too. Not that we’re looking at each other right now, but it sort of feels like we are, with how closely I’m holding my phone to my mouth. “I was actually going to call you,” he says.
“I know,” I say.
“You do?”
“I mean, I know you like talking to me,” I say. “And that talking on the phone is your preferred method of communication. So I connected the dots, right after I disconnected some others.”
“Right.” He sounds nervous again, almost like the very first time he called to ask me to watch Arnie. “I wanted to ask you a favor. Olivia and I are going to the beach for Memorial Day weekend...”
“The Hamptons. Time to start calling a spade a spade. And yes,of course I’ll watch Arnie,” I say to save him the trouble of groveling for my help, as enjoyable as that sequence may have been. “It would be a delight.”
“Awesome,” Chris says. “Really appreciate it.”
“I mean, I basically kidnapped Arnie last time, so don’t thank me too much.”
“You didn’t kidnap him,” Chris says. “You gave him an adventure. He was in a better mood all week because of it. I was going to let you know, but...” He trails off, and theOword is the obvious barricade between us.
