“Of course.” He rose and placed the flyer on the edge of my desk. “I’ll see you there. Don’t forget, Tahoma is the new eblast font choice according to Tracy.”
“Right.” I double-clicked on our lead management software, aware of his gaze lingering on my screen. “Thanks for the reminder.”
As soon as he left, I pulled the door closed and flipped the cheap lock. Opening my email back up, I refreshed the inbox, flinching as a new arrival from Julia De Luca appeared.
Photos look great! Please go ahead with the flyer distribution. The house can be ready for a showing as early as Wednesday. I’m assuming this means you guys got home safely on Thursday night? We are flying back to the Bahamas right now, but will be back on Sunday—if you’re free for lunch next week, let me know. I’m dying to try that new sushi place on Lincoln.
Julia
I reread it twice, surprised to find that it was so… normal. No mention of my husband’s dick, or our same-backyard sex, or of the taste of Easton’s dick or… any of it. Had that been a normal Thursday night for them? Or was this the appropriate response? To act as if nothing had happened?
I leaned back in my chair, stretching out the tight knot in my back and staring up at the dingy popcorn ceiling. I knew the restaurant she was talking about. Chelsea had sent me a link to it, along with a long line of gagging emoticons, because it was rumored that Charlie Sheen owned it. Which was highly unlikely, but enough of a reason for her to cross it off with a hot-pink Sharpie.
I loved sushi. And she was my biggest ever listing client. I wasn’t even sure I could turn a lunch invite down. If there wasn’t any awkwardness now, there would be if I got all stiff and distant from her. I scrolled down the page to my prior email, which had been addressed to both of them.
Mr. and Mrs. De Luca,
Here is a link to view the photos of your home, along with a draft flyer I would like to distribute to prospective buyers. Please let me know if you approve of the flyers, and if you’d like any of the photos to be omitted from the listing.
Thank you,
Elle R. North, Licensed Real Estate Agent
It was so stiff it smelled of starch. Why had I used my middle initial? I stifled a wince and tried to read it again, in a better light. I’d been trying to set a professional tone, something to make up for the fact that I’d drunk all their wine, blabbed about my threesome, then stripped down in their backyard and moaned loud enough to wake up the neighbors.
My phone dinged and I jumped on the distraction, opening a text from Chelsea.
Everything okay with you and E? I’m catching up on voicemails, yours sound stressed.
Of course she’d wait until now, when I was ten minutes away from a workshop. And texting me? Why had she still not returned my calls? Things are fine. I’m about to walk into something, but I want to catch up with you.
She texted back before I even had a chance to set down the phone.
Wahoo on E’s new deal! Don’t forget—I’m the one who referred Nicole to him. You guys can thank me with cupcakes or fudge-covered Oreos. Your pick.
—Don’t pat your back too hard. I’ll tell you why later.
I didn’t have the energy to discuss the Nicole debacle through text. Plus, Chelsea was an expressive reactor. The only upside of this entire situation would be seeing the volcano of emotion that would spew out of her at the news. I hit reply on Julia’s email, then was distracted by another Chelsea text.
Lunch? I’m on day 12 of No Dick and literally no one has congratulated me yet. I can buy you tacos and protest that it’s no big deal as you heap me with well-earned praise.
I smiled, realizing how much I missed her. Ever since Aaron moved out of our place and in with her, we’d barely seen each other. In part, because I’d been avoiding her, heavy with guilt over what happened with Aaron and terrified of the new (and probably completely imagined) possibility that she was into him. But I hadn’t been the only MIA member of our friendship. She’d been notably absent these last three weeks, and leaving me out of the funeral party preparations was just one example of that.
We had to get back to normal. I needed my best friend back, and I had to assume that she was missing some of me as well.
—I’d love lunch. I’ve got a workshop, so can it be late? Taco Taquito at two?
Works for me. I have a wax appointment at one. ??
—Sounds good. See you then.