She laughs. “Shut up. Let’s sit.” I give her another squeeze, refusing to let go, and she waddle-walks me to a bench, standing there until I drop down. She hands me my coffee and then sits next to me, murmuring, “We’ve got an audience now, wackjob.”
I stare at her with wide puppy-dog eyes and take a long pull on my straw.
She sits back with a sigh. “Stop giving me that look. I don’t blame you for the thing with Lucas. Actually, I find that whole story fucking hilarious, except that…you know…my job’s in limbo. But it has never once crossed my mind to put that on you, so stop feeling bad.”
“I love you.”
Margie waves her free hand dismissively. “I love you, too. Now shut up about it, please? The cast’s meeting soon to discuss. Waiting on the showrunner to call us. Lucas has to have his jaw wired shut for at least six weeks. I don’t know. Whatever. It’ll be fine.”
“He called me. Lucas.”
Margie’s eyebrows shoot up, and I fill her in on his request.
“What else is going on with you?” she asks.
“Oh. You know.” Red hair equals no ability to repress blushes. God’s own lie detector. Or anxiety detector. Or heightened emotion detector. I’m a tomato.
“Christ, you’re extra today. What is it? What did you do?”
“I kind of, sort of, touched Jack’s wiener.”
Margie knows me. My silly antics kept her amused in college. My babbling gives her life. Right now, she looks like the cackle she wants to release is warring with her shock that I’ve managed to surprise her. She shakes her head, her facesoblank I fucking know there’s a smile under the mask. She studies the passing pedestrians, the sun-dappled green space around us, and then deadpans, “Start at the beginning.”
My tale of woe takes five minutes, and it’s another five until Margie stops laughing. When she finally does, I wish she hadn’t.
“You like him.”
“Yes.”
“You’re attracted to him.”
“He’s… Well… I mean… Yes.”
“You’re going to get with him.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re so annoying. You light up when you talk about him, Penny. Even when you despised him, he challenged you, and you enjoyed it. I could tell. Shhhh.” She holds up a hand. “Let me finish. There is no way my friend Penelope would’ve been in a closet with a guy if she didn’t want him. You’ve admitted you like him. That you’re attracted to him. I don’t understand what the problem is. Explore it.”
I set my drink down on the ground and press my thumbs into my eyes. “I want to, damn it.” The image of Jack hovering over me in bed makes me shiver. “But he’s buying his apartment. We’ll be neighbors for ages, possibly. You know things never last with me!”
“Could be something else for ages if you open yourself up.”
I pick up my coffee and nudge a rock with my shoe. “This is all because of La. You’re like those converts who start preaching the gospel to everyone. It’s the fucking worst.”
Margie swallows a smile, a blush high on her cheekbones. She dated women in college, so this whole thing isn’t out of left field. But her history, with both men and women, was always casual. Margie isn’t a head-over-heels sort. Catching feelings was what other people did. Not Margie. Margie had fun.
“Never felt this way. Never will again. She’s a pisser, and a boss, and I want to carry her around in my pocket everywhere. So. Yeah. I’m screwed.”
Margie shrugs and sips her coffee. “Let me preach to you the word, Penelope. And the word is love.” She looks contemplative, puzzled even, for a second, as if even she can’t believe what she just said. And then she gives a buoyant and beautifully ginormous smile in response to my expression. “Holy shit, can you believe it? I’m in love.”
25
I mull over Margie’s little monologue for the rest of the day. It takes up so much real estate in my mind that I autopilot my way home after work. I’m so preoccupied that I almost forget about Lucas coming by to pick up his script. His text reminds me.
I’m outside your building.
I chew my lip and text back.
