I glanced at the wedding portrait behind Jordan’s desk to confirm that she was the same bright-eyed, glowing bride I’d spotted across the ballroom at the Pierre in December.
“Hi, Jessica! I’ve heard so much about you!” I smiled and then allowed it to fade, pretending to just now notice the expression on her face. “Is this a bad time?” I asked innocently.
“Yes,” she hissed.
“It is,” Jordan began. He’d been pacing nervously. “But actually, it’s good that you’re here.” His wife whipped her head around to him in disbelief. “Shut the door.”
I obeyed.
“Jessica, Alex Vogel.” Jordan pointed to his wife and then to me.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” I said, bending my legs at the knees just in front of Jordan’s spare chair.
“Don’t sit!” she snapped. I straightened up.
“Alex, I can’t tell you what this is about, but . . . answer one question,” Jordan said, then paused and looked at me squarely. “What do I think of Nancy?”
Jessica whipped her head at him, looking indignant, but then she turned to me, and I saw something softening her features—maybe hope.
In that moment, I threw out any sense of morality or girl code. There was only loyalty.
“Nancy who?” I asked. “Duval?”
Jordan nodded. I let out a small snort of laughter.
“She’s fit for a straitjacket. She’s the butt of all our jokes,” I said. “Look, I don’t really know that much about her, but I do know that she’s totally unstable.” Jessica looked at me, clearly latching on to my words. “I know it’s not nice, but Jordan and I spend every waking work hour together, basically, so we need something to make fun of, and she’s just such an easy target.”
I saw Jordan’s shoulders relaxing away from his ears as he took a seat at his desk.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, touching Jessica’s shoulder and furrowing my brow. “I don’t understand. Are you friends with her? Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. We’re just mean and bored.”
“No.” Jessica shook her head and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “You think she’s crazy?” I nodded. “How do you know?”
“Oh, it’s all rumors,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “But I heard she just gets really obsessed with guys. Like apparently she’s even created fake boyfriends.” I swirled my finger around my ear and crossed my eyes, my Oscar-worthy performance continuing.
“She texted me,” Jessica whispered.
I looked up at Jordan, who gave me a small nod.
“Saying?” I asked, looking incredulous.
Jessica burst into tears again, and I suddenly understood that Jordan had called me, rather than Matt, to his office because she’d never ever have believed a man’s answer. A surge of guilt went up my spine but instantly dissolved at the base of my skull.
“That she was having an affair with Jordan and had to tell me because the guilt was too much.”
I watched Jessica in feigned disbelief for a moment before I burst out laughing. She stared back at me. I covered my mouth but continued to force the laugher.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I went on. “I get why it’s so upsetting, but it’s just so ludicrous. Look, I’m basically with Jordan every second he’s not with you. I assure you, he doesn’t have the time to even talk to Nancy, even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. And if anything had happened, I’d know. And I’d tell you!” Jessica exhaled and wiped her cheeks. I leaned in more closely. “But you do need to be careful with her. She once spread a completely insane rumor that I was sleeping with a partner. It was nuts.” I paused and pretended to think before widening my eyes. “How does she have your number? Does she know where you guys live?”
Jessica’s eyes flashed nervously, and she looked over at Jordan.
“Babe, the doormen would never let her up to our place. It’s fine,” he reassured her. She nodded at him, and he looked like he might pass out from the release of tension.
“I actually have to get back to work—I’ve got an associate to train,” I said with an eye roll. “But don’t believe a word that girl says. Jordan would never. This place is like a shrine to you.”
I gestured at the one picture of her on his wall as I headed toward the door. He really should have more pictures up.
She smiled gratefully, and Jordan gave me a wave of approval and dismissal.
“Will you please close the door, Alex?” he asked calmly. I lingered for a moment outside his door and was relieved by the calm tones of the voices emanating from within, then heard a throat clearing and turned to see Jordan’s assistant watching me eavesdrop. I clenched my jaw and gave a small, sheepish laugh before disappearing down the hallway.
Hours later, when I’d finally gotten rid of Harold and was in the middle of drafting a letter of intent for the latest National acquisition, my phone rang.
“Hi,” I said, cradling the phone to my ear and checking that my door was shut. “Is everything . . . copacetic?”
“Yes.” He was quiet for another moment. “Thank you. I’m sorry to have put you in that—”
“You’re welcome,” I interrupted. “Anyway, you made me look super cool in front of this Harold character. I literally left him in my office in the middle of a sentence.”
Jordan snorted. “Turns out, you’re my phone call, Skip,” he said, his tone turning sincere.
I didn’t answer at first, relishing the words, not wanting to disturb them. I didn’t regret doing him the favor of saving his marriage, even if it meant betraying the girl code that had been drilled into me since preschool. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore. “I’m glad to hear it. Now let’s never ever discuss this again.”
Chapter 20
“I’m not sure that Sam fits into my life anymore now that I work here,” I confessed to Jordan as we sat cross-legged on his office floor and half-heartedly tossed cheese balls from a huge clear plastic tub into each other’s mouth. His only response was to shrug and toss another orange sphere toward me with his powdered fingers. I caught it in my mouth and grinned. It was three o’clock in the morning on closing day for the latest National acquisition, and we were waiting for final comments from the seller’s counsel.
“I don’t know how to talk to him about it. I don’t even have time to talk to him about it,” I continued. Jordan gave me a skeptical look. “What?”
“In my almost seven years here, I’ve found that this job is always a viable excuse. But it’s an excuse. People who are busy have just enough time for what they want to have time for. No more. No less.”
“So, you’re saying I don’t want to have time to talk to him?”
“Exactly.” He stared at me for a moment as I contemplated arguing with him. “We spent two hours fucking around in my office before we ordered dinner. You know, if you asked me, I’d cover for you if you wanted to go home and have dinner with Sam. Not every night, but if it was important to you, every once in a while.”