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“You sound like you just got a cool toy for Christmas.” His entire demeanor has shifted.

“I did. Your cock, and there’s only one available. I’m playing tennis in the morning. I’ll fly out early. Shit, I only have my tennis clothes. I have to go to Philly first.”

“No clothing is not a problem for me. I’m more than happy to fuck you in a little tennis skirt. How much for the appearance on Friday?”

“18.”

“Buy new clothes. Buy new luggage.”

I giggle. The man makes me giddy. I say, “I’ll be there by like dinner time. Meet me in St. Louis?”

“Sweet dreams.”

I let all the feels wash over me. No judgment or planning or worrying. Simply let them wash over me.

* * *

Half an hour later, I’m drifting, but leap across the bed for my phone when it dings.

MIKEY: U up?

TESS: Almost always. What’s up?

MIKEY: Ari’s an asshole.

TESS: No, he’s not. What did you do?

I’m surprised, but our texts feel as if we’ve started in the middle of a friendship. I like it.

MIKEY: ME?! All him. I flew to NY to surprise him. And surprise, he’s in Puerto Rico. Are you at Joanie’s?

TESS: Yes. Breakfast?

MIKEY: Hell, no. I don’t do breakfast. I don’t get up that early. I’m more of a late brunch guy. We’re getting drunk and having a sleepover. I’m sure at 10 p.m. Joanie and Darrell are long asleep. They always have good bagels. I’ll bring wine. I’m at the rents around the block.

TESS: If you’re willing to climb all these stairs, I’ll open the door. Thank you.

MIKEY: What for, girl?

TESS: For becoming my friend. I don’t have a lot.

MIKEY: Stop it. I don’t trust or play well with others, but you seem to fit me fine. Be there in 20. And no Facetiming that man.

TESS: We’re done for the night. Shitty phone sex, I’ll tell you all about it.

MIKEY: Perfect.

I can’t remember the last time I had a sleepover party. I raincheck Carlos until next week. A tidal wave of gratitude hits me. Six months ago, I had work and an occasional lunch. Today, I’m canceling plans with a friend to have a sleepover with another friend, then running off to see my Alex. AND I have work. I might be becoming one of those women who has her shit together. Like maybe I’m making the bacon and frying it up in the pan like that ancient perfume commercial my mom showed me on YouTube.

V

Return On Investment

34

Alex

St. Louis was phenomenal. We worked, screwed a lot, and ate. It’s like my dream life. I even let her set my fantasy football lineup on Sunday. But now we’re here, and I’ve had my head down for the past nine days: nothing but work. Our company either thrives right now, or we shit the bed with this live podcast. It’s our make or break moment. Are we affecting change, or are we simply entertainment? I won’t be anyone’s ass clown.