I don’t have time to ponder that because Jeff switches back to business, like he’s bipolar, as he makes his way over. We spend the day reviewing everything thoroughly. I’m impressed at his managerial skills. He seems to uncover my skill level and run with it. I learn more than I expect about their process in that single day. Except for the informative lunch, where the office dirty laundry is aired in a maelstrom of names I will never remember, I feel like we’ve accomplished a lot.
By the time I get home I’m beat. Too lazy to cook and too hungry to wait for take out, I make a salad with all the fixings. I’m just about to dig in when my phone rings.
“Jenna,” I squeal.
“Hey Love Bug, has Louise gotten a fix yet?”
I sigh. “Really, that’s what you lead off with?”
“I’m guessing that’s a no. No worries, hun. We are going to a masquerade ball when I get to town.”
“Friday?” I ask unable to contain my excitement to see her. I miss her like crazy.
“No, Saturday, but I swear, you will get laid.”
“I’m not having sex with a stranger, Jenna.”
“Stranger, smanger, baby Jesus in a manger. Have you done anything I suggested dating-wise? I researched all the ways to meet new single people in DC and you do nothing with that golden information.”
“No,” I murmur.
“Not even Match.com?”
“Of course not, and do not ask about those hook up apps.”
“What’s wrong with Swiping Left?” she asking while barely containing her laughter.
The app she refers to has potential dating partner’s profile pics show up on your screen. If you liked what you see, you swipe right to see if that person also likes your picture. If you don’t like how they look, you swipe left. It seems too mean for me. Someone with low self-esteem might be pushed over the edge if they swipe right and that person swipes left.
“So many things,” I say.
“Whatever, you will find the man of your dreams at the masquerade ball.”
“What’s so special about this ball? Other than spending way too much on a dress I won’t ever wear again.”
“What’s so special? All the movers and shakers of the city will be in attendance. There will be so many eligible bachelors there. You’re bound to meet someone. And don’t worry about a dress. I have that covered.”
By the time we get off the phone, I’m actually pretty excited. Not so much about meeting a man or dressing up and seeing celebrities, if what Jenna says is to be believed. I can’t wait to see her. I think about Andy in a tux and how he looked the other night. I check my phone and he hasn’t called. I ponder texting him but decide maybe it’s for the best that we don’t have further contact. We have too much history for us to ever work.
The next day, Jeff manages to wiggle me out of lunch with Ted. Easy when it’s his assistant who calls while Jeff is sitting at my desk.
“I have to go to a meeting,” Jeff sighs. “The vultures are here.”
“Vultures?”
“The auditors. They’re like a Rottweiler with a bone. They latch onto to any one mistake and make a huge deal about it.”
For the first time, I feel bad. Here I am, one of those auditor types, spying on these good people. When they find out what Ted has contracted me do, they’ll hate me. I barely know them, but they’ve made me feel so welcome.
“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“An auditor,” I jest.
He laughs. “I’ll be back in an hour if I’m not torn to pieces.”
I sit staring at the computer wondering how to handle everything once the truth comes out, when I get a call from Mandy.
“Oh my gosh, he won’t leave me alone. When will you be back?” she asks.
“When you admit you like Daniel.” I’m relieved she’s able to take my mind off my current problem.
“He wants to hang out this weekend. That’s so code for let’s have sex. And I can’t even remember the last time.”
“At least one of us had sex.”
She gasps. “You didn’t have sex with doctor drop dead gorgeous?”
“First, I thought you didn’t remember anything from that night.”
“It’s slowly coming back,” she admits.
“And second, it’s so not cool to mention doctor and dead in the same sentence.” I laugh.
“Oh right, yeah, no good. How about Dr. McDreamy?”
“I think I’ve heard that one before.”
I hear a tapping on the other end. “I’ll think of something.”
Changing the subject, I say, “In the meantime, have you ever heard of an annual masquerade ball with all the important people of the city?”
“Oh my gosh, yes,” she gushes. “A former friend of mine went one year and met a lawyer she ended up marrying. I heard she has three kids now.”
“You heard? She didn’t tell you?” I cautiously ask.
“She ended up marrying a lawyer,” she reiterates, making it clear what the problem is. “Now with all her society events, she doesn’t have time for us little people. Anyway, are you going?”
“Yes,” I begin.
“Promise me you won’t marry a lawyer and forget about me. Or just take me with you,” she begs.
I snort and have to cover my mouth. I fear the people around me heard. “I would take you but I’m the plus one. My friend has the invite and she’s taking me.”