1
She brushed a hand across her forehead, trying to hold in her patience. “Run that by me again. You want me to do what?”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you listening, Gabs? You never listen to me.”
“I always listen to you, just not when you’re talking nonsense.” Gabby stood up from the couch, swiping her empty wine glass from the coffee table. She needed a refill, especially after what Mia asked her.
“I think he’s cheating on me.” Mia pouted as she followed Gabby to the kitchen.
“You haven’t been dating that long. I haven’t even met him.” Gabby stopped midway as she reached for the wine bottle. “I take that back. I rarely meet a guy you’re dating because you go through them so fast. There’s always something wrong with them. He snores. He spits too much. He uses the bathroom for too long. He likes to read instead of having sex. He’s a momma’s boy. Should I keep going?”
Mia grabbed a strand of hair and started to twirl it. “If you’re saying those are silly reasons to break up with a man, they’re not. Snoring is annoying. I could never get any sleep. That baseball player I dated did spit too much. And what possesses a man to sit in the bathroom for more than thirty minutes? I have needs, you know.”
“Please, I don’t want to hear about the reading part. Reading is good. I like to read.”
“You like reading when you’re about to have sex?” Mia planted a hand on her hip, her lips pursed, her eyebrows raised in defiance as she waited for an answer.
“I don’t have sex as often as I’d like. That reminds me, I should put that on my to-do list.” Gabby grabbed the pen and pad near her phone. “Have some sex. Soon.” She made sure to underline the word soon several times.
She pushed the paper toward Mia. “I even underlined ‘soon.’ Then I’ll pull out a book and read before I do the deed. You know, if you read an erotica book together, it would add to the mood. Did you ever think about that?”
“You’re incorrigible. I get nowhere with you. Absolutely nowhere.” Mia rolled her eyes once again.
Gabby pulled the cork from the wine bottle, pouring herself a glass to the rim. Sometimes dealing with Mia involved much-needed consumption of alcohol. “Why do you think he’s cheating? And if you think he’s cheating, dump his ass. Move on. You do it so well.”
“Can you, for once in your life, not be so honest?” Then Mia glared at the jar filled with quarters on the counter. “You owe a quarter for swearing.”
Damn it, she did. “I’ll add it later. You knew what you were getting into when you started up a friendship with me. Remember the day we met, and I told you that green shirt looked horrible with that beautiful red hair you have? Never wear green. You make me think of Christmas.” Gabby took a sip of wine.
“But you love Christmas,” Mia pointed out. “I like bringing the Christmas spirit right to your door.”
“You’re right, I love Christmas. But not when I look at you and see a brightly lit Christmas tree.”
Mia laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “I did look pretty bad that day. But not all green looks bad on me these days. I now have a great fashion sense. You, on the other hand, need help sometimes.”
“That’s why we balance each other out. That’s why we’re best friends.”
“And that’s why I need you to apply for my boyfriend’s vacant secretary position and see if he’s cheating on me.”
Gabby took a long sip of wine, letting the warm liquid soothe her. “I have a job, you know. A real job.”
Mia snapped her fingers with vigor, pointing at Gabby. “You also have vacation time. Didn’t you say you had so much time built up that you might start losing it if you don’t use it? I’m helping you with that little problem.”
“Mia, come on, talk to him. See if he’s cheating on you. You’re obviously getting a feeling that he’s doing something wrong if you’re asking me to do this. It’s a little extreme for me to go ‘undercover,’” Gabby said, using quotations with her fingers on the word undercover, “to see if your boyfriend is cheating on you.”
“Since when are cheaters honest? Like he’s going to say, ‘Yeah, Mia baby, I’m not cheating on you.’ He’d never admit it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, does he call you baby? That’s so…so…disgusting.”
“It’s sweet. It rolls off his tongue like butter melting on a piece of warm bread. I love it when he calls me that.”
“If you say so. Look, Mia, I can’t take a week off work to go incognito at his work. There’s no way in hell I could lie on the application about prior employment. It’s not in me to lie like that.”
“You don’t have to lie. You were a secretary before.” Mia smirked. “That’s another quarter.”
Gabby raised her eyebrows in disbelief, almost spitting out the small gulp she had consumed. Then she rolled her eyes. “Stop making me swear. I’m blaming you. And I was a secretary when I was nineteen. I’m twenty-nine now. We’re a little too old to be playing these games. Talk to him.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to see him lie to my face.”
“If you think he’s cheating, I repeat—dump. His. Ass.”
“You’re almost up to a dollar.”
“Mia!” Gabby knew she was trying to irritate her.
“I need solid proof before I confront him.” Mia produced another pouty face that was hard to resist. “I need you to do this. His secretary is on maternity leave. It’s only a temp position, so it’s not like you’d be lying that much when you leave after a week. He’s been talking about how all the applicants have been horrible. He’ll hire you on the spot. I know it. Like you said, one week. That’s all I’m asking. I need to know. Then I can dump the lying, cheating, scumbag for sleeping around on me.”
Gabby gulped the rest of her drink, wiping her hand across her lips as if she gained a mustache from the sweet red wine. “How do I let you talk me into shit like this?” She groaned. “Yes, I know, I now owe a dollar.”
Mia screamed in delight, grabbing Gabby around the waist. “You’re the best bestie ever.”
“Fine, bestie. One week. No more.”
“Yes! I knew I could count on you. His name is Champ Holloway.”
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”
Gabby sat on a nice plush black couch, bouncing her leg out of tune to the mellow music playing overhead. Something you’d hear at a symphony. Not that she ever would attend that sort of concert. She’d fall asleep from boredom. She’d take a rock concert over a symphony any day.
A new song, just as light and melodious as the last, started to play. It was annoying music. If she did get the job—a big if—she sure in the hell didn’t want to listen to this crap all week. She’d go out of her ever-lovin’ mind. Give her a crazy upbeat song, and she’d be good to go. It’d get her in the mood to work and do the best damn job she could.
She still didn’t know why she caved into Mia’s pleading. This was insane. This problem could be rectified by simply talking to the man.