Your Big Break

  “No!”

  “I guess I’m more adventurous than you.”

  “Speaking of being adventurous,” I cut in, eager to change the subject, “did you have any fun adventures while you were visiting your parents?”

  “In Connecticut?” she deadpans. “The trip sucked. Thanks for reminding me.” Sophie gets up and tosses a half-eaten cup of ice cream into the trash.

  “Strike two,” Amanda whispers, tsk tsking me under her breath.

  “What was so bad about your vacation?” I ask soothingly, as Sophie sits back down.

  “All I did was mope around and think about Evan.”

  “That’s the worst,” Amanda butts in. “I hate when I can’t get somebody out of my head.”

  “It’s like I eat, breathe, and dream Evan.” Sophie begins working on her three scoops of Phish Food. “When I was with him, life was perfect. It’s so important that I win him back.”

  “Winning him back isn’t an option,” I say. “I know it’s hard, Sophie, but you’re going to have to let Evan go. You’re going to have to move on.”

  “No can do,” she says. “Evan loves me. He may not fully realize it yet, but he will.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little—”

  “I couldn’t care less if you two think I’m pathetic! All that matters is that I win Evan back! I’ll do it, too. Just watch me.” She switches to Chubby Hubby.

  “Sophie,” I say in a very firm voice, “whatever you’re thinking of won’t work. Evan’s made his decision. Trust me, I’ve known him a while. Once he makes up his mind, that’s it.”

  She doesn’t seem concerned. “I’m not above throwing myself at someone.”

  Amanda’s jaw drops. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Because I love him.”

  I blurt, “But what about your dignity?”

  “Dignity!” She laughs. “What dignity? I sold that down the river the day I met Evan. He’s a jerk, a liar, and a cheat! I thought our relationship was real, and he treated it like a joke.”

  “If you think he’s such a jerk, then why are you making a play to win him back?” Amanda points out, logically. I’ve gotta hand it to her—abrasive or not, she learns quickly.

  “I’m in love with him, and you can’t pick who you love.”

  She’s right there. “You need to focus on the bad stuff Evan made you put up with,” I say. “Then you won’t want him.”

  “I’ll always want him,” Sophie says defiantly. “He’s the biggest catch I’ve ever landed.”

  I pat her hand reassuringly. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous. You’ll meet someone else in no time.”

  “I don’t want someone else; I want Evan!” she wails.

  “Come on, he isn’t that special,” Amanda argues.

  “He is! He always knows the exact right thing to say at the right time.”

  I think of Jason Dutwiler, who seems to have the opposite talent.

  “Evan reels you in with compliments, then tosses you out when he gets bored.”

  Sophie’s pretty much summed Evan up. “And you should remember those compliments, but forget the man.” I eat a bite of Cherry Garcia. “You’re a bright, energetic woman. You’ve got so much to offer.”

  “And no one to offer it to,” she responds sadly.

  We sit there in silence for a moment. “What can I do to make this easier on you?” I ask. “Is there anything you need? Someone to help clean your apartment, do your laundry?”

  “I’m a big girl,” she says sarcastically.

  “If you keep eating all that ice cream, you will be,” Amanda mutters under her breath. Fortunately, Sophie doesn’t hear her.

  “I can take care of myself,” Sophie continues. She discards the Phish Food and Chubby Hubby, and begins nibbling from her container of Cherry Garcia.

  “Okay, then how about a girlfriend to talk to, someone to unload on?” I suggest.

  “I don’t have any girlfriends. Women never like me.”

  “Well, Amanda and I both like you,” I vow. I’m afraid Amanda’s going to say something to the contrary, but, mercifully, she doesn’t. “Consider us your new girlfriends. We’re here when you need us, day or night.”

  Sophie reaches out and squeezes both of our hands. “I could use someone to help me move a few boxes to my place a week from Sunday. I got this apartment last month and haven’t had time to transfer everything out of storage yet.”

  “I’m happy to help,” I chime in. Amanda doesn’t volunteer her services.

  “Thanks, guys,” she says, dropping our hands. “Or should I say gals?”

  “You’re welcome. It’s no problem. But I need you to do one thing for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “For one week, I want you to have no contact with Evan. That means no phone calls, e-mails, or texts.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t do that.”

  “I’m only asking for a week.” I look her straight in the eyes, showing that I mean business.

  Sophie starts to tear up. “Why are you being so mean?”

  “I’m not being mean. I’m asking you for a friendly favor. One week.” Ideally, I’d like to get her to agree to two, but I figure it’s best to start small. Sometimes the only way to help people is to wean them off their former lover one day at a time.

  “All right,” she says sadly. “You win. I’ll try to leave Evan alone for a week. No promises, but I’ll do my best.”

  I smile. “That’s all I ask.”

  “Ice cream goes straight to my ass,” Sophie declares, throwing her spoon down on the table. “You know what Evan used to say? He told me my ass should be declared a national treasure.”

  I suppress a laugh. Amanda’s not so tactful. “I can’t believe you bought a line like that!”

  Sophie jumps up from the table. “Shut up!” she says. “It wasn’t a line.”

  “Amanda didn’t mean it like that.” I want to throttle her.

  “Oh, I’ll bet she did. You know what, now I get it.” Sophie narrows her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it from the start. You come in here, pretending to be my friends, when really, the two of you are jealous. You’re probably both head over heels for Evan, and that’s why you’re doing everything in your power to keep us apart!”

  “Sophie, that’s not true at all,” I interrupt. “We’re only trying to help.”

  “Yeah, help yourselves to Evan!”

  “Sophie, I—”

  “Leave me alone!” She whirls around and stalks out the door before I can stop her.

  “Strike three,” Amanda says, watching her go. “You’re out.”

  15

  STAGE THREE OF BREAKUP HELL: Rebounding

  In a misguided attempt to move on, the dumpee takes a flying leap back into the dating pool. This phase includes blind dates, casual hookups, and frequent visits to singles’ hotspots.

  “That meeting with Sophie was a total bust,” Amanda says as we walk into the lobby of Hirschbaum, Davis, and Klein thirty minutes later. “In more ways than one.” She squishes her boobs together in an imitation of Sophie’s.

  “Par for the course,” I tell Amanda, smoothing a wrinkle out of my sleeve. I’m shaken, but I don’t want Amanda to see that. I want to keep up a strong front, show her that I’m still in control of the situation. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to persuade Sophie to fall out of love with Evan, but I had been really eager to make some inroads today. I was hoping that by the time we got to Evan’s office, I’d have some great news. We appear to have had the opposite effect.

  “I take it this guy’s rich,” Amanda says, “since he gets so many women.” Her eyes scan the law firm’s impressive waiting area.

  “Rich as hell—a trust-fund baby turned high-paid lawyer.”

  We approach the front desk; the same receptionist from the other day is on duty, and I inform her that we’re here to see Evan. She tells us to “go on back” and buzzes us in.

  “What’s the purpose o
f this meeting?” Amanda asks as we head down the hall.

  “Evan’s our number-one client; Sophie’s become a thorn in his side, and I intend to take care of it.”

  “Take care of it how? She’s going to keep harassing Evan until kingdom come.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Good luck,” Amanda says. “If you ask me, this is a losing battle.”

  “Don’t give up so easily,” I say. “We just need to approach this from a different angle.”

  “Like what?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out today. I’d hoped to have this settled before we came to Evan’s office, but since we don’t, I’m going to have to come clean with him. It’s time to rethink the Sophie situation.” I knock on Evan’s door.

  “Come in, come in,” he beckons. “Who’s this?” he asks upon seeing Amanda.

  “Mr. Hirschbaum, I’d like you to meet Your Big Break’s newest member, Amanda.”

  “You look young,” he says, sizing her up.

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  “Amanda’s a senior at Boston University,” I fill in.

  He seems interested. “I used to date a girl over there.”

  “A professor?” Amanda asks. I want to kick her. Evan does not date professors. He dates nineteen-year-old coeds.

  Evan cracks a small smile. “She was a drama major. Or was it dance? I don’t remember. Anyway, Dani, give me an update. I’ve got precisely ten minutes.”

  I quickly bring him up to speed. “I apologize in advance, but you may still receive a few phone calls and e-mails until I can get this worked out.”

  “And when, exactly, do you plan to have it ‘worked out’?”

  “Soon. I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think we need a new strategy, something I could use to reach Sophie, to convince her to move on.”

  “You want to exploit a weakness,” he says, nodding. He leans back in his chair and surveys us.

  Put that way, it sounds brutal. “Right. Are there any things you and Sophie really disagreed on? Stuff I could use to make her see why this relationship wasn’t meant to work out?”

  Evan picks up a pen and taps it against his desk. “Sophie’s somewhat of a purist. She doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, won’t even take an aspirin when her head hurts. And she’s dead set against recreational pharmaceuticals.”

  “You mean drugs,” Amanda supplies.

  “Right. And that’s a big problem for me.”

  My eyes widen. Is he confessing an addiction?

  “I’m not an addict,” Evan says, as if reading my mind. “But I do enjoy fine wines and cigars. I need a woman who shares those loves.”

  I can feel the wheels turning. “I can work with this,” I tell him, rising. “Thanks for your time.”

  We’ve just made it out into the hall when he stops me. “Dani, can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

  Amanda gives me a little nudge. “I can find my own way out.” She trots off toward the waiting room.

  I step back into Evan’s office. “Yes?”

  “We need to arrange that lunch. I’m going out of town for a few days. But as soon as I come back, we should get together.”

  Oh, shit. It looks like I’m going to have to face this head-on. “Evan, may I call you Evan?”

  “You know you may.”

  I bite my lip, summoning up my courage. Then I blurt it out in one rush: “As flattered as I am that you want to go out with me, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  The look on his face is one of pure shock. Then it turns to amusement. “You thought I was asking you out?” I nod. “Dani, you’re not my type.” He tips his head back and laughs. “No offense.”

  I blush. “None taken.”

  “Good. Now that we’ve cleared that up, when do you want to have lunch?”

  I’m confused. “I thought you weren’t asking me out?”

  “I’m not.” He heaves a sigh, then raises his eyebrows for emphasis. I lean back against the doorframe, inching my way out.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I’m going to tell you something very personal, so I’d appreciate you not repeat it.”

  “Of course. You have total confidentiality.” Unless you tell me you want to tie me up and whip me. In which case, I’m filing a sexual harassment suit.

  “I don’t have any sisters. My mother left when I was seven. I’ve never had any female friends. Other than dating, I associate with very few women.”

  “I follow,” I lie. I have no idea where this is going.

  “Lately, I’ve come to realize how little I understand women, and that’s something I’d like to change. I’ve honestly never had a nonsexual relationship with a woman. I think it might be fun to have a female friend.”

  I stare at him blankly. “And you picked me?”

  “I picked you.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll be frank—I’m not good at seeing women for who they are as people. I tend to focus on how I can get them into bed.”

  I suppress the urge to gag.

  “With you, there’s no attraction on my end. I’m able to view you as a person, not a bed partner. That’s why I’d like us to be friends. I know there’s zero risk of it becoming romantic.”

  He’s just told me I’m too ugly to sleep with. Talk about a giant slap in the face.

  “Well, thanks, sir.” I feel like an utter fool.

  “So get back to me about that lunch date,” Evan says as I try to make a clean exit.

  “Definitely,” I say, escaping down the hall. As soon as he’s out of earshot, I add, “When hell freezes over.”

  “I wish he were dead.”

  “No you don’t,” Krista says, giving me a quick hug. “You’re just angry.”

  “I never want to see my father again so long as I live.”

  I should be over at my parents’ house, eating crawfish. But our Thursday family dinner is off, so I’ve invited Krista over to cheer me up. After the disastrous meeting with Sophie, and the huge embarrassment with Evan, I need the company.

  “What your father is doing is awful,” Krista says. “But is it truly unforgivable?”

  “I don’t know,” I hedge, sitting down on a kitchen stool and crossing my legs. “That depends. We still don’t know the extent of it, how long he’s been cheating, if it’s just Gretchen or if there are other women.”

  Krista sits down beside me. “Are you going to confront your dad?”

  “Father,” I correct. “Not yet. Sean’s going to do a little more digging, see what he can find out. Once we’ve got enough evidence to nail the bastard, we’re going straight to Mom.”

  Krista’s eyes widen. “‘Nail the bastard’? You sound like a TV detective.”

  “It’s Sean. He’s watched so much CSI, he thinks he’s a crime scene investigator. It’s starting to rub off on me.”

  “Your brother’s too much. I forget he’s twenty-five. He seems like a sixteen-year-old.”

  I run my fingers through my shoulder-length blonde hair, smoothing it into place. “You know how men are. They mature at half the rate of women.”

  “Let’s get some food,” she says.

  “What are you in the mood for? Pizza, Thai, or Indian?”

  “Indian.” She picks up the menu and glances through it. “I’ll take this Korma chicken curry meal. And do you want to split some garlic naan bread?”

  “Sounds good.” I pick up the phone and call in our order.

  “So, how have you been dealing?” Krista asks softly. “I know this has been hard on you.”

  Hard doesn’t begin to describe it. “I feel like I’m in a holding pattern,” I tell her. “I feel stuck, like my world is about to end but I don’t know when or why.” I feel like Brady Simms, I realize.

  “It’s rough, I know.”

  “First Garrett, and now my father. I just don’t know how I can ever trust a man again.” I get out two bottled waters and pass one to Krista.

&nb
sp; “All men aren’t like that,” Krista says.

  I ignore her. “It’s the cheating that bothers me. Doesn’t anyone value commitment anymore?”

  “Of course they do.”

  “I mean, I think about all of my dumpees. Take Jason Dutwiler, for instance. He’d give anything to have a woman who loves him. But the poor guy keeps getting dumped. And he’s such a nice person, to boot!”

  Krista looks interested. “Jason who?”

  “Jason Dutwiler,” I repeat.

  “And you said he’s nice?”

  Uh-oh. I can see where this is going. “He’s not your type.”

  She looks surprised. “Since when is ‘nice’ not my type? I’m hardly the kind to chase after bad boys. So, is this Jason Dutwiler guy free?”

  “He’s free. Of course, he’s also—”

  “A serial killer? A leper?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “I was going to say ‘kind of obsessive.’”

  “Obsessive? How?”

  I sip my water. “I don’t know. I’m just going on what his ex-girlfriend told me.”

  Krista waves her hand dismissively. “You can’t trust her. She’s biased.” She leans against the kitchen counter and smiles. “Jason Dutwiler,” she repeats, running her fingers through her hair. “What does he look like?”

  “Boyishly cute,” I supply.

  “Height? Build? Hair check?”

  “Hair check?” I repeat, blinking.

  “Full head of hair? Balding?”

  I laugh. “He’s got a full head of brown hair.”

  She nods approvingly.

  “Jason’s pretty cute. He’s about five-eight,” I say.

  “Short guys are not a problem.” Krista interjects. Krista’s barely five feet tall.

  “Medium build,” I continue. “I think he played soccer in college.”

  She twists her hair into a ponytail at the back of her neck. “Sounds good. Give him my number.”

  Oh, brother. “I was kidding. I couldn’t set you up with him.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s against Your Big Break’s policy.”

  She fiddles with her earrings, taking them off and sliding them back on.

  A delivery guy arrives with our Indian food. I bring the piping-hot containers into the kitchen and set them down on the counter. “Come on, Dani,” Krista says, pulling two plates out of the cupboard. “I could take the poor guy out, cheer him up.”