Exactly. “I don’t know who was more horrified—Nan, Brooks, or the cat.”
“The cat was there, too?”
“I mean, she was on her bed, so it’s not like she was there there.”
“The cat was definitely watching.”
Why is Sophia being so difficult? “No, the cat was sleeping. Can we please stay on track? I have a conference call with Bambi What’sHerFace in half an hour and then I have to scoot out for lunch.”
“Right—lunch with Nan, the break-in artist, and your neighbor, who most likely has himself a bad case of blue balls.”
I end my call with Sophia still shaking my head; I do that a lot when she and I talk. She can be exasperating and loves to play devil’s advocate.
Taking a few minutes in my office, I primp a bit before my meeting, hoping it’s short-lived and quick so I can dash out the door, hail a cab, and get to our lunch reservation before Nan or Brooks arrive.
Three minutes later, I’m heading out of my office.
I give the door to Bambi’s shared, communal office a rap with my knuckles, folder clenched in my other hand. A younger man named Ryan, who has the best vantage point of the door, spins in his chair and gestures for me to enter.
It’s a creative space with four desks, one in each corner of the room, separated by both wooden and file cabinets, a large counter island splitting the room down the center.
A buzz of energy zings in the air; it’s a fun room, a shared design and workspace.
Bambi is one of two females in this department, and I find her slumped a bit at her desk, shoulders quaking a little.
I glance over my left shoulder at Ryan.
He shrugs, pulling a face and lifting his palms helplessly.
“Bambi?”
“Hey Abbott, what’s up?” Bambi clears her throat, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
“We have a meeting at eleven.” I’m matter-of-fact and stern, lacing my statement with the disappointment I feel upon discovering she’s unprepared.
I don’t plan on being late for my lunch date. It’s the only thing I’ve looked forward to in a long time, other than Brooks coming to my place and spending time with me a few times a week.
That I love and look forward to quite a bit.
This meeting with Bambi? Not so much. The girl resents my authority and has tried to thwart me since day one, and this meeting was my chance to gain an upper hand.
“Oh shit, that’s right. I forgot.”
She forgot? Nice. I make a mental note of the oversight for her manager since she’s already on my shit list.
“I’m so sorry.”
Oh.
Well.
That I wasn’t expecting.
Bambi turns to face me, and it’s then I notice her puffy red eyes and swollen nose.
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” It’s a dumb question because clearly, everything is not okay—not if she’s been bawling her eyes out at work and can’t manage to be professional.
Not to be a brat, but she should have canceled our meeting and taken a personal day. She’s obviously not working.
“No, everything isn’t okay.” Her head dips again and I take a second to glance over at Ryan, who’s surveying us intently. There is no doubt that if their other two officemates weren’t otherwise occupied, they’d be staring, too.
Here goes one for the company rumor mill…
“What’s wrong?”
“M-My…” She sucks in a breath. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”
She had a boyfriend? Dang, how did I not know that? “Oh Bambi, I’m so sorry! How long were you together?”
“Not long, but long enough. It felt like we’d known each other our whole lives.”
“I am so sorry,” I repeat, not knowing what else to say, torn between comforting her as if she were a true friend and keeping my distance since we’ve never gotten along well. “What was his name?”
Her head shoots up, and she sniffles. “Blaine.”
Blaine?
Figures she’d find the one guy in town with a name douchier than Brooks. Bet Blaine is a real piece of work, too.
“I know he loved me—he’d just started saying it.” Bambi’s eyes narrow. “His friends hated me.”
Big shocker. “How do you know?”
“They’ve been trying to break us up since we met.” Her chin tilts arrogantly. “They’re intimidated by a strong female.”
Oh brother. “I’m sure they didn’t hate you.”
“No, no—they did. He let it slip once.”
“He did?” What an idiot.
“Blaine isn’t the smartest—I could talk him into anything. He’s very easily influenced, so if his friends hated me, we didn’t stand a chance. He’s known them longer than I have, so they always won.”
I stand quietly next to her desk, leaning my hip against the counter as she goes on, floodgates now open.
“Honestly, they say jump and Blaine says how high. I was getting so sick of it.” She inhales a shaky breath. “Ugh, and they meet all the time at this dumb bar, never invite me along, and smoke cigars.”
Sounds like a real gem.
“Maybe you’re better off without some guy who can’t stand up to his friends.”
What kind of guy is that? One with no spine. Gross, who wants that?
“He has this one friend who is such a douchebag. The freaking worst—thinks his shit doesn’t stink because he has this great job and makes all this money. Bosses them all around.”
Basically like every other guy I’ve ever met. Typical of a group—there always has to be one in the bunch who takes charge. The ringleader, as they say.
I set the green folder I’ve been holding on Bambi’s desk, giving it a little pat. “I’ll just leave these here. Take a look at them when you can. And could I offer you a little advice?”
“Sure.”
“Take the day off, go get a facial—then forget about that dickhead. Anyone who chooses his friends over you doesn’t deserve the tears you’re wasting on him right now. Somewhere in this city is someone who will be better for you.”
Her brilliant blonde hair flips. “I know. That’s what all my friends keep saying.”
“Because it’s true.”
“It sounds easy, but it’s not. I’ve tried. I lie in bed scrolling through Instagram, and whenever I read an insightful breakup meme, I cry.”
Jeez. Drama queen. “It’ll get easier.”
This time, I do reach my hand out, placing it on her back, giving her a little rub. Round and round my hand goes, comforting the woman who only a short ten minutes ago I was dreading having to sit down with.
We’re not out of the woods yet; she hasn’t seen the notes I wrote then tucked away in the folder on her desk…
“I’m going to leave you alone—go home, relax. Take a hot bath and have a good cry.” Another one, apparently, because it looks like that’s all she’s been doing. “Come back tomorrow, and when you have the chance, look over these notes. I’ll have my secretary set up another meeting at the beginning of next week, and we’ll touch base then. In the meantime…” Pat, pat, pat on her back. I feel like I’m soothing a sleeping lion. “Pack it up and get out of here.”