On a Friday night, Devin persuaded me to go out after work. I’d made the mistake of telling her Graham had gone to a bachelor party in Las Vegas for the weekend, which meant I couldn’t use him as an excuse to get home. With Graham unemployed, he was around the loft almost all day and most nights. Having my job back felt like a reprieve from having to spend time with him. I left for work early and didn’t come home until late. Often I would take the current novel I was reading, and my laptop, to a coffeehouse with wireless Internet access. If I stayed out late enough, I could return home to find Graham passed out, avoid the perfunctory conversations, and sneak off to bed, letting him sleep on the couch.
I was counting the days until our Rainier trip.
With Graham in Las Vegas, I’d have the loft to myself the entire weekend. What I really wanted was to go home and continue planning without having to sneak behind Graham’s back, but I decided that I owed it to Devin to spend a few hours with her. I’d dumped a lot of my personal problems on her, and she’d always been there to listen. Besides, she was the only real friend I had in Portland, and soon I would be gone.
She chose a sports-themed bar close to the office that included multiple television screens. Sports paraphernalia hung on the walls and drooped from the ceiling. I guessed the bar was popular, because the tables filled quickly. We found a couple abandoning an elevated table with two tall chairs a safe distance from the televisions and quickly grabbed it. The waitress, dressed in a black-and-white referee shirt and cheek-hugging black shorts, quickly descended on us for drink orders. She set down cocktail napkins and advised that it was happy hour. Appetizers were just a few dollars. Devin ordered hummus and flatbread and an olive plate. Just the thought of food made my queasy stomach churn.
“Two Lemon Drops,” Devin said to the waitress, raising her voice over the din of the crowd.
“I’m good,” I said, shaking my head. “Just water.”
“Come on, we’re celebrating.” Devin snatched the drink menu and handed it to the waitress, who departed.
“What exactly are we celebrating?”
“Your return to work.”
“I’m back because we had to file bankruptcy.”
“I know, but I’m still glad to have you back. It wasn’t the same without you. I don’t know how I survived the boredom.”
“Listen,” I said. “Thanks for being there for me, for letting me unload all my problems on you.”
Devin waved it off. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is. It meant a lot to me. I’m sorry I lost touch when I left. You’re my only real friend here.”
“That’s not true,” she said.
“It is. You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to count on.”
“Well, I missed not having you around,” she said.
I smiled at that. “You mean the girl who goes home every night and sticks her nose in a book.”
She laughed. “Okay, so tell me. Have you heard from the attorneys about your trust? Are the creditors going to be able to get at it?”
I don’t know what compelled me. Maybe it was just the need to tell someone because keeping it a secret had consumed me. “I’m not waiting for the attorneys,” I said.
“What?”
“I can’t risk losing my trust, Devin.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve hidden it.”
“How?”
“I opened bank accounts in a different name.”
“How did you do that?”
“I can’t say how. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“That’s okay. Wow. So you think it’s safe?”
“It should be. I’m still in the process of doing a couple of things.”
“Where did you learn how to do it?”
I gave a small laugh. “Where else? A book.”
“So you just made up a name?”
“Not exactly, no.”
“So you, like, have an alias?”
“I guess so.”
“Do you have a driver’s license?” Devin asked, animated.
“I needed one to open the account.”
Devin leaned forward, wide-eyed. “Did you use a famous person’s name?”
“No. I used a pretty lame name, actually.”
Two young men in business suits, ties lowered and top shirt buttons undone, approached our table and Devin sat back. They were cute. One had sandy blond hair and a shy grin. The other sported one of those trendy two-day-growth beards and a lot of attitude—like Graham when I first met him. With summer nearing, a lot of the businesses hired college interns. These two didn’t look much older.
“My friend and I were hoping you could settle a bet,” Mr. Two-Day Growth said, which caused Devin to give me a sidelong glance and a roll of her eyes.
“What’s that?” she said, playing along.
“I’m betting you’re in town for the Nike CrossFit games.” He jabbed a thumb at the Brad Pitt look-alike. “He says you’re locals out for a drink.”
“What happens if you’re both right?” Devin said.
“We both buy you a drink,” he said, smiling.
The blond looked at me with a sheepish grin. “Are you the CrossFit competitor?”