I stare at her blankly.
“What’s with you lately?” She gives me a funny look. “You seem different. You even come to work happy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually liked this job. And now Charlie. Every time I turn around, you’re talking to him. You’ve barely spoken to him in months and suddenly you want to eat lunch with him?”
“So, can’t a girl be happy and want to talk to people?”
Destiny shifts the stack of scripts in her arms. “Charlie’s my boy. Just remember he’s one of the good ones, okay?”
“Hey, you want to grab a drink after work tonight?” Maybe after a couple of cocktails I’ll be able to find out exactly what happened between Charlie and Casey.
“Hell, yeah. You definitely owe me for helping with this party for Rachel. In all my spare time!” She raises her arms and a few of the scripts fall to the floor.
“Let me help you with those. The intern forgot to take them to the control room again?” I roll my eyes.
“Yes, what’s with college students these days? They don’t work hard like I did, like you did.” Destiny frowns.
I think about college again, as I have so many times since I started coming to this studio every day. I remember Casey’s accusation at the reunion. Did I give up? What if I’d finished college after having Audrey? Where would I be now?
“Thank God Casey found you, I mean, I found you.” I talk faster to cover my mistake. “I’m going to buy you as many cocktails as you want to show you how much I appreciate what you’re doing to help Rachel with this party. She’s so busy with the kids and everything she’s juggling. Even though she really wants to do it herself, the last thing she has time for is planning a party for John.”
“I know you said that, but when I talk to her, it’s like she barely wants my help. She’s already got most of it handled. She keeps telling me that I’m in charge of making sure everything at the venue is perfect and that’s it.”
I frown.
“You seem surprised,” Destiny says.
Must be beginner’s luck, I think. “I guess I assumed she was having a harder time than she is.” I think about where I was just a week ago; I was exhausted from getting up at all hours with the baby, and constantly fighting with my older daughters. I was barely able to find time to say two words to my husband. I can’t image planning John’s party on top of it all. If Destiny had called the real me last week, I would have fallen over with gratitude and accepted her help without a moment’s hesitation. Why did Casey tell Destiny she has it under control?
Does she have a better grip on my own life than I do?
“Girl, you’re lost in thought. Let’s get back to work. I need you to read through your script and make your tweaks so we can do the intern’s job and get these to the control room before the taping.”
? ? ?
“I can’t believe it’s almost nine thirty. Where did the day go?” I say as we take a seat at a table in the bar.
“This is early! I can’t remember the last time I got out of that place before eleven.” I marvel at how good Destiny looks at the end of such a long day. Still fresh faced, not at all like she applied her makeup twelve hours ago. And her energy—she never runs out of it. The obvious differences between being thirty-eight and twenty-nine, I suppose.
“What do you want? I’ll go order for us,” I offer. She deserves a moment off her feet. She works her ass off. And even though it’s felt good having someone take care of me for a change, getting me coffee, answering my phone, thinking about my needs before I can, that’s always been my job, my role, what I’m good at.
“Really? Are you sure?” Even out of the office she’s still in assistant mode, wanting to take care of Casey. “I’m on it,” I say, standing up.
“I’ll have the usual.”
What’s her usual? I try to remember what twenty-nine-year-olds drink. Rum and Cokes? Strawberry daiquiris? I have no clue. And I can’t screw this up right now. I need her to believe I’m Casey. Casey would know her usual.
“Why don’t you try something different tonight?” I suggest.
“Oh, and drink Belvedere and sodas like you?”
“Why not?” I cringe, remembering the high school reunion.
Destiny doesn’t skip a beat. “Sure, I’m game.”
The bar’s exceptionally crowded for a Monday night. Don’t any of these people have kids?
“Hey there.”
I turn and a gorgeous guy with black hair and olive skin, well over six feet tall and not a day over twenty-five, is staring at me. I’m almost positive I saw him on a Calvin Klein billboard on Sunset Boulevard this morning. The same guy I fantasized about as I stared at him in nothing but his underwear. And now here we are.