“Why can’t you cuss at home?” I ask.
“I have a thirteen-year-old baby brother.”
She lives at home? At twenty-eight? That can’t be right, but I’m not comfortable asking such personal questions. “You know he’s probably cussing already.”
“Oh yeah, he says shit way worse than me. But my parents still think he’s a sweet little innocent angel.”
“Got it.”
“Where’d you go?” Mandy snaps her fingers in front of my face when I stay quiet too long.
I’m now sitting next to her on the floor, and I know I checked out of the conversation. “Sorry. Just thinking about what’s ahead.”
“Hey, don’t worry. Dr. Ramirez is amazing. You are going to be fine.”
“How do you know so much? I mean, you mentioned about the food and drinking calories and then the sex drive thing. Do research assistants usually know so much about the trials?”
“Yeah. I also keep the database of adverse events. If any trial participants experience side effects, they call me, and I add them to the database. Expected side effects are par for the course, but if they are unexpected, we have to monitor those closely.”
“I see.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I side-eye her. “I have a feeling you will even if I don’t say yes.”
Her toothy grin spreads, but then her face turns serious. “How come you didn’t tell any of your family or friends?”
I think about that for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want this to define me. I was a rising star in my field, asfresaas that sounds. Everyone in my life has a perception of me as the strong one. I can’t now be the sick one.”
The doorbell rings, ending our conversation, and I’m glad I don’t have to keep explaining something I’m in the process of trying to understand myself. I make my way to the intercom, and a man’s voice fills the living room. “I have a delivery for Valentina Almonte.”
“That’s me.” I buzz them up.
Three muscular men trickle in and out of the apartment as they bring in all the furniture I could possibly need. I even ordered a second bed for the guest bedroom. When I’d shopped online, I’d opted to buy entire showcase rooms from the website because I’ve never been good at putting together home decor. Pilar would have loved to help, but the less she knew, the better. I didn’t want to slip up and have her get suspicious.
Feeling more in the way than helpful, Mandy and I press our backs against the living room window. A few of the pieces of furniture require assembly. One man goes into the bedroom to start on that while a second crouches in front of us, putting together the sectional.
“I’m so glad I came,” Mandy says. I look at her to find a twinkle in her eye. It’s amusing until her intentions become clear. “Go talk to him,” she says in a hushed tone.
“What? No!”
“Remember what I said about the sex drive? He is so hot. Do it.”
I panic because even though we are whispering and the living room is large, he is right there, and I’m sure he can probably hear us.
“Fine. You’re too slow. I’m calling dibs.”
“What? Mandy!” I warn, but she only puts her hand on her hip and tussles her hair over one shoulder.
“Hey,” she calls toward the man. “What’s your name?”
The tall, dark, and handsome man looks up at us with a bright smile. He had introduced himself to me when I opened the door for them, but Mandy was at the other end of the room. “Chris, ma’am,” he says.
Mandy walks toward him. “None of that ‘ma’am’ business. I’m Mandy.” Chris stands to stretch out his hand, and their hand-shake connection lingers for a beat too long.
Chris is much taller than Mandy, allowing me a view of the amusement in his eyes from her flirting. She finally lets go of his hand and starts rummaging through her purse. I see the corner of a piece of paper that she pulls out and hands to him. “I have a solo art show soon. You should check it out.” She gives him what I assume is a flyer. “Hold that,” she says and keeps rummaging through her purse.
Chris smooths out the flyer in front of him and looks at it. His mouth forms up into a smile. “An artist, huh?”