On a grumble, I wrapped myself in my fluffiest robe, making my way to the door, finding Fee through the peephole.
"I'm a shitty boss, a terrible matchmaker, but I make a pretty decent friend," she told me through the door. "I brought provisions," she added as I slid the lock, pulling the door open.
There was Fee with her multitude of amazing tattoos, her form-fitting, flawless coppery sweater dress and five-inch icepick heels, carrying a big basket. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen someone so effortlessly put together at all times like Fiona was. And she always paired whatever outfit she had on with this impressive sheen of confidence.
"Oh," she said, cringing at my robe, slippers, my red, puffy nose, my glassy eyes. "You're like sick-sick."
"That's, ah, you know, why I called in sick."
"I thought you were bullshitting. I thought you were, like heart sick or something," she said, placing the basket on my dining table, reaching into it, pulling out items. "I guess the chocolate and the vibrators still come in handy. I should have included some soup or something, though. Oh, hey, this will be good," she decided, producing a bath bomb. "I thought I grabbed the rose one, but it's the eucalyptus. Will clear all that gunk out," she said, waving at my head.
"Thank you," I told her, touched more than I knew I could be over the care package. Aside from my mother, I'd never gotten one before. I never knew someone who cared enough to go to the store, find a basket, and stuff it with things they thought would make me feel better.
"Don't thank me. Like I said, I'm a shitty boss and a terrible matchmaker. I'm sorry I made you go to the cabin and got you sick."
"Why did you?" I asked, knowing Rush said I would have to ask her what was going on when I saw her next instead of telling me himself, something that had been nagging at me ever since.
"Okay. Here is the long and short of it," she said, pulling out a chair, sitting down, patting the space across from her. "I was going over the books a few weeks ago," she started. Even though she trusted me, I knew she was the kind of boss to pay almost anal attention to detail. For A Good Time, Call... was her baby. It was something she'd built from the ground-up, back when she had been a one-woman operation, one of the voices on the phone instead of the boss. "I found something interesting," she went on, choosing her words carefully, her tone getting a little tense, making my stomach flip-flop. If Fiona was tense, something was really not good. "About Rush's line," she clarified.
She didn't need to say anything else.
I knew.
I knew that she knew.
"Oh God. Oh, my God," I whimpered, elbows resting on the table, my head resting in my hands. "Oh, God."
My boss knew I was calling into the phone sex line I worked for? That I was calling in to talk to her in-law? That I was that sad and lonely and pathetic and horny.
Literally nothing could be as humiliating as that.
"Hey, relax. It's no big deal. I'm not judging. I mean, Kate, I used to sell my used panties to make rent," she told me, shrugging it off. "We all do things we aren't exactly proud of sometimes. I mean, if people didn't want to call in, this business wouldn't exist. Though, it is looking more and more like we are going to have to start shifting toward video calls somewhat," she mused aloud, always trying to be on the cutting edge of the business. "Anyway, yeah, I saw you calling in. And I just... I got an idea in my head about how you two might get on. That was overstepping. I mean like other-level overstepping. Like I'm pretty sure you could sue me overstepping. I see that now. I just... I didn't at the time."
"Does Rush..."
"No. Jesus. No, I'm not that kind of asshole. I mean... and it would also be against the law to share that. I wouldn't do that. That would create an unfair power dynamic. I just thought I could push you two kids together, see if anything worked out."
"So there was never any work retreat?"
"Well, yes and no. I was considering a work retreat. Which was why I knew about that cabin in the first place. But then I got my stupid-ass idea. I suck. I shouldn't have done it. I guess I was wrong."
"You weren't wrong. I mean, you know, I have been calling him. And I was harboring this crush and a silly fantasy."
"It's not silly. Rush is a good-looking guy. And I've overheard some of his calls. He has the dirty talk down. I get it. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have desires and needs and, yes, crushes. It's normal."
"Except it was just never going to happen," I said, sighing, picking through the basket Fiona brought just to be able to have my focus elsewhere, not wanting her to see the vulnerability in my eyes. "Me and Rush," I clarified. "It was never going to happen. Not in a real way."
"Why not?"
"Come on," I said, sighing, feeling a telltale burning at the backs of my eyes, rapidly blinking it away.
"Come on what? I can't think of any reason you couldn't have Rush if you wanted Rush."
"Have you seen Rush?" I asked, putting the vibrator back in the basket.
If I was going to stop calling Rush's line, I guess I really could use a battery-operated device.
"Yeah..." Fiona said, brows knitting.
"Guys like him don't go for girls like me."
"Oh, so this is an insecurity thing," Fee concluded. "I mean not to pick at you or anything, but it's ridiculous. You're pretty. You hide it well because you're quiet and you wear the glasses that cover half your face. But you're pretty. So either you don't know that at all, or you do know it, but don't want the attention from it."
"Fiona, come on," I said, shaking my head, feeling irrational tears flood my vision.
"Oh, damn. It's the former. God, society sucks, right?" she asked, reaching across the table to put her hand over mine, giving my fingers a reassuring squeeze. "You're pretty. I hope you know that is coming from an objective third party here. I don't mean it in a "Oh, everyone is beautiful" way, either. I mean it in a genuine way. I wouldn't blow smoke up your ass. If I didn't think you were pretty, I wouldn't say it at all. But here I am, saying it. So I mean it."
"I want to believe that," I admitted. "I've been in therapy for ages trying to believe that."
"Therapy is good. So are Sandy-style slutty makeovers," she said, giving me an eyebrow wiggle. "I mean, Danny was a douche, but Rush isn't. If you want to dress up to see if it helps your confidence, let me know. We can have a girls night. A little spa day, a dress change montage like from a teen movie, then go out where we know Rush will be, flash your sex kitten look around, have some fun." She sounded excited just thinking about it.
"I, ah, I'm not much for dressing up. Thanks for the offer, though. It's a fun idea." It was, too. I just didn't see the point of it.
"Well, it can be a fun reality if you ever change your mind. I am going to get going, so you can curl back up in bed. And before you can get your germs all over me. I will send some soup."
"That's not necessary."
"I know, I know. I am legendary for not being the best cook. I wasn't going to subject you to that. But I will have Helen make you something. She likes that kind of shit. Do you need anything else? Fluids? Drugs? A ride to the emergency medical office?"