“RIP chair, good knowing you.” They clinked their glasses.
“Oh, God.” I sprang up and flew to the door. “Jane!” I hollered as I hurried down the hallway to the kitchen to scrub my hands.
Her music dipped. “Yes, my duck?”
Before responding, I ran through my calming mantra: She hasn’t increased the rent in three years. She hasn’t increased the rent in three years. Jane’s lifestyle wasn’t usually an issue. We’d set some ground rules early on to avoid any mishaps. Namely, I got sex-free communal spaces and Jane could have her nightly visitors, which I’d know about only through her jaw-droppingly filthy stories and on those occasions when she used the dishwasher to sterilize her sex toys. She had a reassuringly high bar for hygiene, but that isn’t a comfort when you reach in for a cup first thing in the morning and pull out a dildo.
“You promised no sex in the living room.”
She leaned out of her bedroom wearing some extremely complicated-looking underwear. “Of course, my darling! We only began in the living room.” Well, that was some relief, at least. “We finished in the kitchen.”
I recoiled, then grabbed the sponge to wipe down every surface.
I could hear the rumbles of a deep baritone drifting from Jane’s open door.
“One more thing,” Jane sang out. “Trev promises he’ll replace the sponge.”
* * *
“Are you really going to do it?” Maria leaned forward over her plate to bite into her takeout pizza. The moment they’d heard the full story about my deal with NOB, Sarah’s military-grade hen do presentation had been abandoned (“Absolute No-Nos for the Perfect Hen!! 1) NO penises. Jeremy: That’s me out. (a) not on springs, (b) or inflatable, (c) especially not edible. (d) Jeremy, your penis doesn’t count. Jeremy: Exactly which category does she think my penis falls into?)
Jeremy waved his wineglass. “Just so we’re clear: You’re going to try and fall in love within the next three months by re-creating meet-cutes from rom-coms?”
“This is for my career, Jem, not my love life. I just need to get NOB through his writer’s block. I’m hoping then he won’t be as hung up on the love thing.” Silence. “In case there’s any doubt, I do know this is completely bonkers.”
“He’s such a . . . a nob!” Maria said forcefully. She was the sweetest, kindest, most forgiving person I knew. And she hated NOB with a fire even I couldn’t muster. “Evie, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this? Don’t let NOB force you into something you aren’t ready for. He’d never ask this of a guy.”
“Yes, put yourself first. Be careful,” Jeremy intoned dutifully.
“I know how it sounds, but aside from the love part, the deal was entirely my idea. It’s not just about saving the agency. Monty’s promised to promote me to agent if NOB writes the script.”
“He really said that?” Maria asked.
I nodded, understanding the doubt in her voice. “He’s never even hinted at it before.” It was part of the reason my friends found it so hard to understand why I stayed working for him, but agent positions were rare, and though I’d gone for interviews, I’d never made it to the second round. I had to prove to Monty—and, if I was being honest, to myself—that I was good enough before I could move on. Ricky had always got that. I wished they could too.
Jeremy exchanged a look with Maria. I suddenly got the feeling they’d been discussing me at length on the journey here.
“What?” I said, feeling a little ambushed.
Maria went first. “Ever since Dicky, we’ve noticed that you’ve been putting even more of your energy into work.” They’d been calling Ricky that since the night of the Breakup. I loved them for it, even if I couldn’t bring myself to do the same. “We want to make sure you have time left for yourself. Maybe even for real-life dating.”
That gave me pause. I hadn’t realized my lack of dating had them concerned. They came from two different ends of the dating spectrum from me. Jeremy was rarely without a date, and Maria had never been on one. She and David had been together since they were sixteen. To her, the dating jungle was more of a well-maintained patio.
Though from the sounds of things, it was my complete lack of anything post-Breakup that worried them.
“We know how much your career means to you, and having this job helped you at a really bad time,” she said, ever so gently. I’d started at the agency not long after my dad died, and she was right. It had filled up the worst of those days. “But maybe a break would do you good. You could do anything you wanted to. Even start writing again.” After Dad, my friends had tried to keep me writing. They’d never fully understood why I couldn’t get back to the version of me who’d stay up all night feverishly typing, who’d push all her favorite films on them, encouraging them to treat dialogue like it was art. I’d never found the right way to tell them what that agent had told me. It was just too awful. “We’re concerned you aren’t taking care of yourself down here.”
I busied myself by grabbing another slice of pizza. Sometimes I worried that my friends believed I existed in a state of arrested development. Like there were still some tick boxes I hadn’t checked in order to become a full-fledged adult, as they had with their mortgages, savings accounts, and sensible life choices.
Maria sensed my distress. “We’re just saying that you don’t have to spend what’s left of your spare time outside of work doing this. You don’t need to put your personal life on the line for a man like NOB, or for Monty. He should be the one doing everything he can to save his agency.”
Jeremy leaned over and put his hand on my head. “What Maria is saying, dearest Evie, is that we only wish you knew your worth. Because to us you are priceless.”
My eyes filled with tears for the second time that evening, and I nodded, swallowing a few times before finally speaking. “Thank you for caring. It means a lot, really. But I want to go through with this. I am going to get that promotion. Plus”—I gave them a small grin—“anything is better than Tinder.”
My friends pulled me in for a hug and I held on tightly to their arms.
“Right,” Jeremy said, sitting back. “Have we finished with the considerate-friends bit for now?”
“To due diligence,” said Maria, raising her glass.
“Great.” Jeremy scooted forward, grabbed his overnight bag from the side of the sofa, and pulled out a large rolled-up notepad. “Because we made you a list.”
Moments later, he had the pad propped up with a series of colored markers laid out on the coffee table. The first sheet said Sarah’s Hen Do! in Maria’s handwriting.