“You’re the best!”
We herded Little Noah, Annie, and Poppy into the playroom right as the doorbell rang. It was Taylor, and I said a quick hello. I’d met Taylor months ago when Erica introduced us. We went out for drinks after a particularly grueling work day: I was yelled at for printing up an ad campaign and proofing it with my red pen instead of using the computer. Erica and Taylor were yelled at by a client who developed a nasty rash the day after she was tanned.
“The world’s filled with nothin’ but bitches,” I slurred in the taxi cab on the way home.
Erica was right. When all was said and done, it took about half an hour to tan her client. I heard the murmuring coming from the foyer and thought it was safe to open the playroom door. I swore I heard the alarm beep, signaling someone had opened the front door to leave.
Poppy darted out in an instant, high on the scent. She zeroed in on Courtney, who stood in the open doorway saying her goodbyes.
“Oh God,” I whispered and raced to the foyer. “No, Poppy! Noooooo!!”
But it was too late. Tongue everywhere. Tongue on her toes. Tongue on her calves. Tongue on her shins. Courtney danced around the room, trying to get away, and Poppy thought it was a game. The damage had been done long before I got my hands on her wriggly body. I couldn’t look at Erica. I couldn’t look at anyone as I apologized profusely.
“I’ll pay for your tan,” I said, hanging my head.
Courtney waved it off. “I’m sooo not one of those biatches,” she said.
I learned in that moment that Courtney was either still in high school or a freshman in college.
“But she ruined your tan!” I said.
That’s what touch-ups are for, right?” Courtney asked. “And your dog is so freakin’ adorable.”
“You’re the coolest,” I whispered, then felt like a dumbass.
“Erica, can you fit me in tomorrow?” she said, turning to my best friend who was about to yell at me in approximately thirty seconds. Or thirty-one. Let’s make it thirty-one since that’s my bad luck number.
“You know I will,” Erica replied.
“Then no harm done,” Courtney squeaked. “Call me, bitch,” she said, holding her hand up to her ear like a phone.
I stifled a giggle.
Courtney bounced out, and Erica closed the door.
“Really, Bailey? For freakin’ real right now?! That girl drives me insane, and now I have to see her again tomorrow!”
“So that’s why you’re handing her over to me, huh?” Taylor asked. She laughed.
“And just prepare yourself,” Erica said. “She gets sprayed every seven days.”
“Dear Lord,” Taylor muttered.
Erica whipped her head in my direction. “Thanks a lot,” she griped.
“I’m sorry!” I laughed.
“Your dog is a nuisance.” She looked around the living room. “And where are my children? You’re, like, the worst sitter ever.”
“They’re in the playroom. Jeez. Take it easy,” I replied. “Now where’s my dinner?”
“Fuck your dinner, Bailey,” she hissed. “You’re not getting any fucking dinner.”
Taylor erupted with laughter.
“I watched your kids!” I argued.
“Really? ‘Cause I don’t see them. And anyway, your dog ruined my Saturday. No dinner for you.” Erica rubbed her face. “I can’t believe I have to see that chick again. ‘Call me, bitch,’” she mimicked, and I cracked up.
“I’m so saying that every time we say goodbye,” I said.
“Bitch, you better not,” Erica replied, and we all three stood in the foyer laughing. It wasn’t even that funny, but sometimes life’s inconveniences wound up that way. If you let go and let them.
“That’s pretty good, girl!” Christopher called down the shore.
I ran to him, huffing and puffing.
“Thanks! Gosh, I’m beat,” I panted. “Those waves . . .” I paused, trying to catch my breath. “You’d think another hurricane was coming!”
“In July?”
“Well, whatever.”
“Aren’t you glad I called you?” he asked.
“Totally,” I replied.
We walked up the bank and plopped our boards in the sizzling sand. Then we sat down, side by side, watching the surfers dance along the waves. Up and down and up and down—riding the high of a perfect surfing day.
“How’s Reece?” I ventured, twirling my forefinger in the sand.
Christopher didn’t look at me.
“He’s all right. Been workin’ really hard on a perfume campaign. The commercial airs tonight.”
“Oh, really?” I was intrigued. And, of course, I’d watch it!
“Smack dab in the middle of your little vampire show,” Christopher replied.
I smiled. I would definitely watch it. “He’s really good at what he does.”
“Yep.”
I continued tracing hearts in the sand.
“How’s his social life?” I asked. I could feel Christopher’s grin.
“You mean, is he dating anyone?” he asked.
I nodded. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. I hated when I did that: asking questions when I really didn’t want answers.
“He’s not seeing anyone.”
I exhaled a little too loudly.
“He misses you,” Christopher added. “I think he keeps hoping you’ll call.”
I shook my head. “I messed it all up. I let him go. He wouldn’t want to hear from me.”
“How do you know that unless you call him?”
“I’m embarrassed. It’s been, like, four months since we’ve talked. I wouldn’t even know what to say to him.”
“Seriously, Bailey? How about that you love him.”
I grunted.
“You obviously still love him, or else you wouldn’t ask me about him every time I see you,” Christopher pointed out.
“I do love him,” I said softly. “Very much. But it’s not fair for me to ask him to be with me, Chris. I’m fucked up. No one should have to deal with that.”
“Bailey, we’re all fucked up to a certain extent. Okay? You act like you some lunatic.”
“I am!”
“No, you’re not. You’re a girl who likes to put her shit in order. I can think of a lot worse things. And anyway, weren’t you the one telling me a month ago how much better you’re getting?”