I step down and survey my work. The hook looks even enough with the one to the right of The Hole. My call waiting beeps, but I send my mother to voicemail. “I blame Margie.”
“You always do. Adulting is hard.”
“I called you for freakishly tall person help, not character assassination,” I tell him. I exhale in a mighty puff and grab the end of the sheet I bought to serve as my new wall tapestry. It features a delicate blue and white and yellow pattern of trees and birds and was the least like a college wall hanging I could find. I climb again and jam my earbuds more firmly into my ears.
“Well, you potato, you called the wrong friend if you didn’t want to be judged about your wall-hole problems.”
“I wasn’t complaining. And The Hole is being temporarily handled as we speak.” I tie off one end of the sheet and hop off the ladder, grabbing the other. “But, you know, I sure would like to have the wall fixed permanently. It’s probably not safe to have it open to an apartment where a weirdo lives…”
Avery is silent.
“That’s my super-slick way of asking you to help me take down this wall and rebuild it? Please? Pretty please?”
“Hi, Dr. Vaughn. Sorry to interrupt,” I hear a husky female voice say on Avery’s side of the conversation.
“Dr. Cassidy, hi. I didn’t know you were back.”
“There’s a matter I need to discuss with you. I’m—”
“Excuse me for one second,” Avery says. “Penny, I’ve got to—”
Jack’s door opens, and a woman follows him in.
“Gotta go.” I don’t wait for his response, instead hanging up on him and ducking behind the sheet to avoid detection. I hear him offer the woman something to drink, and she accepts a glass of water with a smile. She’s pretty, in a garish kind of way. Long black hair, big gazongas, and tight black pants. Nothing like the ex-girlfriend I met. Whatever. He doesn’t have a type beyond “willing,” I guess.
I crouch down again, just in time to hear her ask about The Hole.
Jack sighs. “My next door neighbor is a little…eccentric. She attacked it with a hammer and opened up a can of worms. I’m sorting it out. It’ll be fixed in the next few weeks.” He adds the last bit in a rush, probably desperate to have her come back.
I hear them walking around the apartment, with Jack pointing out its architectural features, the ones I’m obsessed with in my own. I’m surprised the bonehead knows them, to be honest. And that womandefinitelydoesn’t look like a history buff.
I mentally slap myself.What the hell are you doing?I’m always preaching the gospel of Women-Need-To-Stop-Tearing-Each-Other-Down. I don’t make catty, shitty comments about other women. I should be rescuing this stranger, not comparing my bra size to hers and finding myself lacking.
I rub at my eyes wearily and hear my moment of opportunity present itself.
“Sorry, I need to call my sister,” Jack says. “Her cat just died. The thing always made me itch, but she’s— That’s her calling. Excuse me a second.”
I wait until I hear the click of his bedroom door.
“Hey! Hey! Psssst!” I lift the sheet and lean through The Hole, waving my arms wildly.
The woman yelps, spilling the water she was just sipping down her front. She looks anxiously to the door—the one Jack disappeared through—then approaches The Hole slowly. “Can I help you?”
“No! You can help yourself. By getting out. You don’t know what kind of hurt you’re in for with—”
She backs up a few steps and gulps, audibly. “Hurt? What do you mean?”
“I’m trying to warn you. The last woman I saw here was destroyed. Broken.”
“Oh. Okay.” The woman abandons her glass on the counter and retreats toward the front door, backing away with purpose. I lean farther through The Hole, and she fumbles with the knob. She seems nervous, which she absolutely should be if she was this close to making the biggest mistake of her life. “Uh. Thanks for letting me know. I’m going now. Goodbye.” She opens the door and bolts through it.
I race to intercept her in the hallway. She screeches when she sees me and grabs for the stair rail. “You’ll thank me later!” I crow triumphantly as she hurries away.
6
The air in my area of the office smells of pungent boiled eggs and thick floral perfume, courtesy of my elderly colleague and cubicle neighbor, Donna. Though I’ve strategically placed plants along the ledge that divides our spaces to block unwanted conversation, nothing can be done about the odors. I rest my elbows on my desk and press at my temples, my headset digging into my ears as the voices on the conference call hum on around me. God help me.
I need a distraction or I’m going to gag. No one is talking to me or about a part of the project I own.Seize the moment, brain. Check out and shift gears.I click over to my personal email and lean forward eagerly when I spot a message from my bank.
