I pull up Facebook on my phone and type:
Wow—Did y’all hear that Liam and Nikki Day are dating?
I turn so he can see the screen. “You think you can handle this?” I say, and pray that the universe will consider my request even though it’s not technically for me. But it had worked with Jules and I had a strong feeling the powers that be would grant this one too—these were my best friends, and what happened to them affected me as well.
He pulls the phone out of my hand. “You’re actually saying that’s going to happen?” He points to the words I’ve just written. “As soon as you hit post, poof, I’m hooking up with the hottest actress on the planet?” He laughs nervously.
“If you think this is all bullshit, then it won’t matter, right?” I challenge.
Liam stares at me for a minute before reaching over and posting the update. “Why the hell not? Let’s test this sucker out,” he says, just as Thai Elvis belts out the first line of “Love Me Tender.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“The green is my favorite,” I declare as I fan the assortment of men’s neon briefs on the conference table, trying to focus my attention away from Courtney, her glossy lips turned downward in a pout as she buries her nose in her cell phone, only half listening as Magda and I debate the shade of underwear the Calvin Klein model should wear in the billboard ads, Magda arguing that pink will pop more against the black-and-white background, and me pointing out that Hanes just used a similar shade in a recent print advertisement. The junior associates and interns watch us lob arguments back and forth like we’re playing a tennis match.
As Magda clamors on about how hot the color pink is this year, I can’t seem to force my gaze away from Courtney, surprised by her insubordination. If Magda had demoted me, I’d be doing everything I could to win back her favor—even the assistant-like duties she’s been assigned. Which is what I thought Courtney would do—throw herself into her work and claw her way back to the top. Instead, she seems to have given up, her attitude like that of a senior in high school who is already imagining herself on a college campus somewhere far away. Courtney’s cell vibrates and a sly smile forms on her lips as she reads a message. As her cheeks flush, I feel a burn in my chest—is she texting Max?
“Courtney, what do you think?” I ask suddenly, grabbing the briefs and dangling them in front of her, a silence falling over the conference room. The staff members pivot their necks quickly, no doubt curious how she’ll respond, since the news of her “reassignment” had traveled quickly through the office, tons of rumors swirling about what had really happened between Magda and Courtney—the one about a secret lesbian love affair being my personal favorite.
Courtney stares at me for a moment, barely glancing at the underwear between my fingertips. “Either one,” she finally says, ignoring Magda’s sharp look from across the table. “You’re in charge now. Whatever you want—” She squints her eyes at me, then whispers, “Boss.”
“Okay, then,” I stammer. “Let’s suggest to the client that we do some test shots before we make a final decision.”
Magda purses her lips and gives me a quick half nod—her equivalent of a yes—just as Courtney releases a quiet laugh after her phone vibrates again. As everyone starts to file out of the room, frantic thoughts speed through my mind like sprinters rushing to the finish line of a hundred-yard dash, and I envision the texts that she and Max could be exchanging.
I imagine him and Courtney bantering about the Soul Asylum concert they were seeing at El Portal in North Hollywood tonight. Shooting texts back and forth like:
Think they’ll play “Somebody to Shove”? I don’t know, but I will shove someone if they don’t!
An involuntary shiver runs up my arm as I remember the insecurity I’d felt about their relationship the night he’d stumbled into the bedroom drunk, that feeling I’d buried forcing its way up like a geyser. But even after that surge of jealously, I had never considered that Courtney might be attracted to Max. Although he was objectively attractive, he was nothing like the men she dated—with chiseled stomachs and movie-star good looks. Max was more boy-next-door cute than soap opera handsome. Not to mention she’d always sworn she’d never be caught dead dating anyone under six feet, and with Max barely clearing five foot eight, I never in my wildest dreams thought he’d be on her radar.