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I watched the attention-stealing asshole as he really started getting after his carcass desecration, and I let out an impressed whistle. “I mean, itisdinnertime.”
“That’sit,” she said, giving me a weird look before excitedly pulling her key ring out of her pocket.
“This thing doesn’t have an ignition, dipshit.”
“I see your usage of the worddipshitand raise you one, King Dipshit,” she said, before raising her keys to her face and blowing into a whistle that was hanging on the key ring. And it wasn’t justawhistle. It was the loudest, most high-pitched, most brain-scramblingly loud whistle I’d ever heard in my entire life.
Immediately, Dewey’s head came up, and within seconds, he made eye contact with my waving arms and Sophie’s shrieking whistle.
“OUR PEDALS ARE BROKEN, DEWEY! WE CAN’T MOVE!”
“NOT AT ALL?” he yelled back. “CAN YOU USE THE EMERGENCY OARS UNDER THE SEAT IN BACK?”
“Emergency oars?” Sophie leaned over into the back and lifted the seat. “Holy shit, there are two oars in here.”
I watched as she started extending one of the telescopic oars.
“THANKS, DEWEY!” I yelled.
“WELCOME!” the kid yelled back.
“You know, Maxxie,” Sophie said quietly, handing me the second oar. “It’s going to be even easier, when we’re rowing, to see which side of the boat is moving faster.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, taking the proffered oar.
“So we’re racing, then?” she asked, doing a stretch with her arms—and oar—over her head.
“Of course we are,” I replied, extending my paddle. “But don’t be sad when you lose, honey.”
“Shut up,” she said, pinching my bicep, “and get ready.Honey.”
thirty-seven
Sophie
“Good morning, Sophie,”I heard from the office to my left.
“Good morning, Ben,” I replied on autopilot, not even looking in that direction as I mentally prepared myself for my eight o’clock meeting.
After tossing and turning last night, I got up and decided to catch up on some emails. Yes, it was a Sunday night, but I had nothing else going on, so why not, right?
I’d nearly had a heart attack when I saw that Edie had scheduled a subjectless meeting on my calendar for eight a.m.—with Richard Kasee, EVP of administration.
Could it be? Was I about to have the conversation that would launch my career into a new direction? I doubted that was it exactly, but there was the possibility that it was a pre-conversation.
“Morning, Sophie,” from my right, to which I responded, “Morning, Dallas.”
“Morning, Soph,” from the cubicle in the corner.
“Morning, Betsy,” I said, replaying in my head all of the strategic goals I’d set and met over the past two years that I needed to illuminate in my interview.Wrote and launched new organizational development module.
“Good morning, Sophie,” Izabel said.
“Good morning, Iz,” I replied, rummaging through my tote.
“Good morning, Sophie,” Stuart said.
“Good morning, Stuart,” I muttered, reminding myself to focus on the necessary steps we’d taken to implement that plan.
