“Is Blockbuster looking to expand their collection?” she asks.
“Not exactly,” Sean says, looking embarrassed. “We were, uh, asking for ourselves.”
“Oh.” She seems rightly alarmed.
“We need the porn for our mom’s boyfriend,” I explain. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.
“Like lesbian stuff?” Sophie asks.
This conversation is getting more embarrassing by the second. Apparently, Sean agrees. “Let’s continue this discussion outside,” he says, coming around from behind the counter and making a beeline for the door. Once we’re outside the building and away from the prying eyes of his coworkers, Sean says, “We want a couple of magazines.”
I briefly fill her in on the plan to plant the incriminating evidence in Jude’s yoga bag.
Sophie bursts out laughing. “You guys are insane. That’ll never work.”
“It might,” I argue. “And we have to try. It’s our only hope.”
“Well, if you’re dead set on doing it, I might be able to help. Would a few issues of Playgirl work? They feature naked men. It would probably be pretty disturbing if a straight guy had them in his yoga bag.”
“Playgirl would be perfect,” I say.
“Okay. I have a couple of issues at my apartment. They’re yours.”
“Really?” Sean and I say in unison.
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
She shrugs. “Evan used to buy them. He left a few at my place.”
I draw in a sharp breath. “Evan Hirschbaum’s gay?!”
“No.”
“Then why Playgirl?” I ask. “And don’t tell me he bought it for the articles!”
Sean’s standing there with his mouth hanging open.
“He said he liked studying the male form—the closer to perfection, the better. It gave him something to strive for.” Sophie’s expression shifts as she talks. “Now that I think about it, I guess it was slightly weird.” She shudders. “Anyway, I’ll be glad to have the things out of my apartment. I should have thrown them in the garbage weeks ago.”
Sean shakes his head. “We can’t take them.” He looks uncomfortable. “They’re used.”
“So?” I ask.
“So,” Sean says pointedly. “The pages might be . . . stuck together.”
“Guys, Evan didn’t . . . they’re not.” Sophie frowns. “Let’s just say the magazines are in pristine condition and leave it at that. Now, do you want them or not?”
“We’ll take them,” I say. “Thanks.”
I hang out with Sophie until three in the morning and, as a result, don’t get out of bed until noon the next day. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a problem—I love sleeping late and do it virtually every chance I get—but today I’ve got a packed schedule. In addition to a host of errands—I’ve got to do two loads of laundry, pick up shirts at the dry cleaner, go grocery shopping—I promised Craig I’d come into the office for a few hours and catch up on work. I’m seriously falling behind.
Plus, I’m meeting Krista and Jason for an early dinner at an Indian restaurant in Jamaica Plain. It’s bring-your-own-wine, and I’ve offered to pick up a bottle of merlot. I grab a shower and then quickly get dressed. Before I head out the door, I stop and check my e-mail. I’m pleasantly surprised to find a message from Brady Simms. It’s been a while, but he finally wrote!
From: “Brady K. Simms”
To: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday, June 25, 10:12 a.m.
Subject: Long time, no speak
Hi Dani,
Greetings from Arizona! That’s right, I’ve flown the coop and headed out west. What can I say? The frigid Boston summer finally got to me—I was craving scalding sun and 110-degree temperatures. Seriously, my mother had some unexpected legal issues and needed me to fly out here and take care of them. I’ll be heading back your way in a few days, and I was hoping we could still have that movie date. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I’d really love to see you. How about my place, this Wednesday night at 8 p.m.? I’ll make dinner; you bring a DVD. ~Brady Simms
P.S. Is Italian cool?
Well. This is interesting for several reasons. First, not only does he suggest we hook up for a dinner-and-a-movie date, but he thinks we should do it at his place. That’s a far cry from meeting at the theater for a Sunday matinee. And he suggested a firm time, which proves he’s able to commit. If that doesn’t classify as an Actual Date, I don’t know what does. I decide to stop overanalyzing his e-mail and just answer the damn thing.
From: “Danielle Myers”
To: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday, June 25, 1:09 p.m.
Subject: RE: Long time, no speak
Hello, stranger! Good to hear from you. Hope the Southwest is treating you well. I’m checking my schedule for this
Wednesday. Let’s see, I’ve got brain surgery at four, trapeze lessons at six, dog walking at seven . . . okay, eight works. Italian is very cool. I assume you mean the food, not the language. But in case you were wondering, I love the language, too. Very sexy. Never mind. I’ll shut up now.
Dani
P.S. What kind of movies do you like?
I read over the e-mail. Am I being too cheesy? Should I even be using the word sexy? Is he going to think that means I want to sleep with him? (Maybe I do, but down the road.) I shake my head, read over my reply one last time. Ah, fuck it. I solemnly vow to stop second-guessing myself. I hit send.
From: “Brady K. Simms”
To: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday, June 25, 1:22 p.m.
Subject: Parli Italiano?
Ciao Dani,
Come sta? Bene grazie. And that’s about the extent of my Italian. I spent a semester there in high school, and the only thing I learned how to say was “Prego!” I used it approximately 500 times per day while living in Florence, though I’m still not quite sure what it translates to. I think it’s an all-purpose greeting, much like “Aloha” in Hawaii. But I digress. FYI, I didn’t mean the food OR the language. I meant the people. I was thinking we could invite a family of Italians to join us for dinner.
~Brady
P.S. I like all kinds of movies, although if you bring a slasher flick, I’ll have to sleep with my nightlight on.
P.P.S. Brain surgery and trapeze lessons I’d believe, but dog walking? Nah. You made that up.
P.P.P.S. Have you ever noticed how we always seem to be online at the same time? It’s Kismet.
P.P.P.P.S. I lied. I know how to say a few other things in Italian. . . . I’ll tell you, if you’re good.
24
The Male-Female FriendShip Parameters
Even though it’s Saturday, Your Big Break Inc.’s office is buzzing with activity. The phones are ringing, the fax machine’s whirring, and the printer is humming. We used to be closed on the weekends, but lately Trey and Craig have both been working Saturday shifts to keep up with rising demands.
“Look at this!” Craig exclaims, waving a fistful of papers at me as I walk through the door. “We’re famous!”
“The Salon.com article came out!” I say. I scan the first paragraph. “Niiiice.”
“It’s better than nice. We’ve been fielding calls all morning.” Craig beams. “I’m taking out a half-page ad in The Boston Globe magazine to coincide with the launch of the new website Amanda’s designing. And I’m going to have ten thousand fliers made up and distributed around the city. Can you draft some copy for the flier? Nothing much, just a paragraph teaser to get people interested. I’d need it by the end of this week.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
Craig slaps my back. “See what you can come up with. Think clever! Think cute!”
“I’ll get working right away.”
“This is a key moment for us, Dani. If business keeps booming the way I expect, I’m going to have to hire more staff. This is the big time
, baby!” Craig rubs his hands together in anticipation and heads to his office.
Two men are milling around our waiting room, presumably here to see about off-loading their girlfriends. And standing in the corner by the window is . . . I blink. It can’t be.
“Erin?” I ask tentatively.
She whirls around. “Oh. Danielle.”
“Can I help you with something?” What if she’s talked to Brady? What if she told him who I really am?
“I have an appointment.”
“You do?” Did she call and book an appointment and no one bothered to tell me? “I’m so sorry. How long have you been waiting?”
“Actually, my appointment’s with your colleague, Trey.” She turns her back to me and stares out the window.
I’m taken aback. “Is it . . . is it something I did?” I ask. “I mean, were you unhappy with the level of service you received?”
She doesn’t answer me.
There’s only one conclusion. “I’m sorry you weren’t satisfied with the job I did.”
“Honestly, Danielle,” she says, turning around to face me. “You’re so insecure. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m here to see Trey S. because I have another uncomfortable personal situation I’d like to take care of. And I prefer working with men. I assume that’s permitted.” She folds her arms across her chest, as if daring me to challenge her.
I don’t. “Of course,” I say. “You’re free to work with whomever you choose.”
I walk into my office and then stop in my tracks. Another job? Is she ditching the PBS producer already? I make a mental note to ask Trey about it later. I spend most of the afternoon returning phone calls, answering e-mails, and writing breakup letters for clients. I attempt to come up with some advertising copy, but I draw a blank. It’ll have to wait until later.
Just as I’m finishing up, Evan Hirschbaum calls.
“I was going to leave a message. I didn’t think you’d be in on a Saturday,” he says approvingly. “If you add in Sundays and holidays, you could come work for my law firm.”
“I think I’ll stick with Your Big Break,” I say. “But thanks.”
Evan tells me he’s got a new case for me to handle. I get her vital stats: Michelle, twenty-seven, dance instructor, they’ve been dating for five weeks. I’m relieved to see Evan’s switching back to older women again. I never thought I’d consider a twenty-seven-year-old an “older woman.” I note how long they’ve been together: five weeks.
“I see you’re overlapping,” I say. “Juggling more than one woman at a time.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, you were with Quinn until a few weeks ago.”
“Ah, yes, Quinn, that little redhead from Urban Outfitters.”
“Actually, she was a brunette.”
“A brunette?”
“Yes.”
“I should develop a system to keep them all straight.” He cackles. “I’m starting to worry myself.”
Just starting? “Did you tell Quinn and Michelle about each other?” I can’t help asking.
He says, “A little tip for you, Dani: Unless a man says otherwise, always assume he’s got more than one girlfriend, that he’s sampling more than one dish at a time.”
Ew. I tell Evan I’ll get in touch with Michelle on Monday and make an appointment to break up with her.
“Speaking of appointments . . .”
Uh-oh, here it comes.
“. . . I’m going to have my secretary fax over a list of guidelines for our lunch.”
Excuse me, what lunch? Last I checked, we didn’t have a firm date for that, and I’ve been avoiding making one. And what guidelines? Is this a business meeting? “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I say.
“I’d like us to meet, go over the male-female friendship parameters.”
Male-female friendship parameters? Are we negotiating a contract? “Evan, I’m really not following.”
“My secretary will fill you in,” he says. “I’m going out of town next week, but I’ll speak to you when I get back.”
I spend the rest of the afternoon updating my files. Before I leave, I pop into Trey’s office. “I understand you’ve inherited Erin Foster-Ellis as a client,” I comment.
“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to poach her from you.” Trey looks up from his computer. “She went to Craig and requested not to work with you.”
Ouch. “She actually did that?” I feel a tinge of guilt; I probably deserve it. I didn’t exactly do a very thorough job for her.
Trey nods. “She said she didn’t like your personality. She was pleased with the job you did, though.”
Boy, Trey doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to brutal honesty.
“Sorry, don’t mean to be harsh.”
“No, it’s fine. So, is she ditching the PBS guy?” I ask.
Trey nods. “Apparently, he works too hard, doesn’t spend enough time with her. That woman is a pain in the butt,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “You’re lucky to be done with her.”
“Oh, baby,” Krista says, brushing her fingers over Jason Dutwiler’s hand. “You’re the cutie pie.”
“No, you are.”
“No, you!”
Great. Couple talk. I gulp down my glass of merlot while they trade sickly sweet pet names. I wish the food would hurry up and get here. We’ve been sitting for more than thirty minutes, and I’m starting to get crabby. A few bites of lamb biryani would really cheer me up.
“I’m sorry, Dani.” Krista says. “Are we making you feel like a third wheel?”
Yes! “No.”
Krista and Jason exchange glances. “I think I left something in the car,” he says, rising from the table. “Be back in a sec.”
“I know we can be a little overwhelming sometimes,” she says once he’s gone. “We’ve just hit it off so well.”
I play with my napkin, folding it and unfolding it in my lap. “It’s weird seeing you together. When I set you up, I never imagined you’d be joined at the hip.”
“I’ve never clicked with anyone like this before. When I introduced him to my mother last night, she was totally blown away by how well we got along.”
“You introduced Jason to your parents?” Whoa, this is serious.
“He hasn’t met my dad,” Krista says, picking up her water glass. “But soon.”
I’m happy for Krista, but I also feel left out. Things between us are changing. A few weeks ago, we were best friends, hanging out every weekend. Now I see Sophie and Sean more than I do her. We only exchange brief e-mails these days.
“How are things going with your parents?” Krista asks softly.
I sigh. “Not so good.” I fill her in on what’s been happening. “I’m trying to push it out of my mind,” I conclude.
“Then let’s talk about something more pleasant. Any news on the Brady front?” Krista asks, taking a quick sip of water.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” I fill her in on what’s been happening.
“That’s so exciting!” Krista says, clasping her hands. “Dinner and a movie at his place sounds very romantic.”
“I worry it’s too soon,” I confess, shifting nervously in my seat.
“Too soon for what?”
“Brady lost his father and his long-term girlfriend in a one-month period. Is he ready for a serious relationship?”
Krista seems unfazed. “People are always ready for relationships. The only time they claim otherwise is if they haven’t met the right person. Take Jason, for example. He’s completely over Lucy,” she declares. “For a long time, he didn’t think he’d be able to let go. But meeting me changed everything.”
“You really think so?” I ask uncertainly. “I mean, he was pretty hung up on her.”
“I know so.” She thumps the table emphatically. “Jason and I are rock-solid. And I’m sure it’ll be the same way with Brady. You’ll see.”
Jason reappears in the doorway of the restaurant. “Isn’t this ironic
?” Krista asks, catching sight of him. “You and I are both going out with castoffs from Your Big Break. Did you ever imagine your job would hold such a hotbed of potential dates?”
“I’ve got access to one of the largest singles pools in the city of Boston,” I say, grinning. “It’s better than working for a matchmaking service.” I take another sip of wine. “The problem is, they’re all rebound guys.”
“You worry too much.” Krista leans back in her chair and motions for Jason to rejoin us. “The whole rebound thing—it’s a myth. Like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster.”
“I hope you’re right.”
25
I Sound Like My Parents
“I’m going back to school!” Sophie announces as she walks into my office Monday morning.
I look up from the stack of paperwork on my desk. I wasn’t expecting Sophie to drop by, and I certainly wasn’t expecting her to tell me this. “Are you serious?”
“I start this fall,” she says, sitting down across from my desk. She’s decked out in a gorgeous black pantsuit and stylish Marc Jacobs pumps. Every time I see her, she looks more stunning than before.
“Congratulations!” I say. “That’s awesome. When did this happen?”
“I enrolled this morning. I’ve been thinking about it ever since that day you helped me move the boxes and we had our talk.”
I had no idea our discussion had such an impact on her. “Where are you going?”
“Northeastern. I missed the deadline for fall enrollment, but I’m going to audit a few courses. In the spring, I’ll start full-time.”
I smile. I’m genuinely happy for her.
“Anyway, I brought these,” she says, reaching into her tote bag and passing me three Playgirls.
I note that they’re in pristine condition, newsstand-fresh, and I take them from her hands. “So, are you excited?” I ask, setting the magazines down on my desk.
“Excited and nervous. I hope I made the right choice in selecting Northeastern.”
“My brother graduated from Northeastern. It’s a fantastic school.”