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Adam: No. Sorry, I just really need your help.
Madeleine: Care to elaborate on it then?Daisy shakes my shoulders, trying to get me to show her what we’re saying. Naturally, she makes me send Adam a string of gibberish by accident.Madeleine: weoy9873568hekrthJEHW@#
Adam: What?
Madeleine: Ignore that.
Adam: I can’t go into much detail. It might scare you away.The cow birth video plays through my mind again and my stomach turns over. It’s definitely that. I’m going to have to put my arms up a cow’s vagina tomorrow just so I can sell him a house. Do other agents have to go to these same lengths to earn a commission?Madeleine: Okay fine. I’ll send over my address.
Adam: Great, see you then.
Madeleine: WAIT. What should I wear? A dress? Jeans? Hazmat suit?
Adam: Just something casual that you wouldn’t mind getting a little dirty.Oh sweet Jesus.Adam: Oh, and Mouse is invited too.“Ha!” Daisy shouts just as she tears my phone out of my hand. She also takes the top layer of skin off my thumb. Very polite.
“Have you ever heard of a little privacy?!” I shout, but it’s no use. She’s already reading our text exchange, no doubt inserting feelings and double meanings where none belong.
“Did he ask you out on a surprise date or something?” she asks, tossing me back my phone once she’s finished.
I shouldn’t reward her terrible best friend behavior, but there’s no point in being stubborn. Daisy will wear me down eventually, just like she did with my brother.
“No, as a matter of fact, it’s not a date.”
“So…you two are hanging out as friends?”
I narrow my gaze on her, taking in her perfect skin and bright blonde hair. Sure, now she’s in pajamas, but normally she’s put together in fancy business clothes underneath her crisp white coat. Daisy has her life together. She’s a doctor and she’s married. She has her own house, and pretty soon she’ll probably start popping out my nieces and nephews. It’s because of this that I can’t tell her the honest truth—that I, Madeleine Thatcher, have hit an all-new low. I am all but prostituting myself in the name of real estate. Daisy won’t understand. She’ll tell me to quit, to get a new job. She thinks I’m talented and “going places”. She doesn’t seem to understand that the only place I’m headed is the poorhouse if I don’t earn a commission soon.
“It’s nothing,” I say, standing and finding Mouse’s leash. “Can we just drop it?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I’m surprised she’s willing to cooperate—my expression must look particularly desperate. On my way to the door, she can’t help but ask one more time, “You’d tell me if it was a date, right?”
Fortunately, she can’t see me pinch my eyes closed in distress. “It’s definitely not a date.”CHAPTER TENMADELEINEAt 11:25 AM the next morning, I’m standing on the curb outside my apartment, waiting for Adam. I’ve selected a pair of worn jeans that are flattering, but not too nice, and a white blouse I can easily swap out for the vintage t-shirt I packed if we end up knee-deep in some sort of bovine-birthing activity. Mouse is lounging at my feet, the brown, black, and white pattern of fur on his face even more cute than usual thanks to the brushing I gave him this morning. He’s grown in the last few days, already surpassing the size of a large Labrador. I resist the urge to give in to my anxiety about his size and instead do an inventory of the tote bag hanging on my shoulder. I’ve come prepared for whatever the day will bring. Inside, I’ve packed one Tupperware full of homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, a water bottle, my vintage t-shirt, sneakers, a few granola bars, a rain jacket, and treats for Mouse. It’s nearly filled to max capacity, but I have no other choice. I still don’t actually know where Adam is dragging me, and I wanted to come prepared for any situation.
I’m actively debating breaking into the cookies early when a black, sporty Audi pulls up to the curb and draws my attention. I spot Adam behind the sleek tinted windows and can’t help but laugh. He’s definitely not from Texas. If he were, he’d be driving a truck or some kind of rugged SUV. This shiny thing looks expensive and easy to destroy, and I know Mouse will make short work of it.
“Morning,” he says, sliding out of the driver’s seat and rounding the back of the car.
Mouse leaps to his feet and goes wild, but Adam uses his authoritative tone and instructs him to sit before getting close enough to pet him. Mouse responds to his command, but his whole body still shakes with excitement as he sits, patiently waiting. As Adam pets Mouse, I take a step closer to his car and inspect the pristine the interior. Everything is clean and gleaming; it looks like he just got it detailed this week.
