He’s chatting with the saleswoman when I emerge, making her laugh, and a weird knee-jerk jealousy sparks through me.
What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t care who he flirts with now.
“Wow.” Mark Winterson holds a hand out and tugs me closer, beaming in a way that makes my heart hurt. “That’s the one.”
Alone in the dressing room again, I let all the air out of my lungs. But when I check my phone, Mom still hasn’t written back.
ruby.ocampo:
Mom? Are you okay?
sampaguita72:
Be patient, all right! It’s a long walk down this hall
I get changed and check my phone again. Still nothing, but I don’t want to rush her.
So I join Mark Winterson in the front and ignore my spiking anxiety when I see the four-figure price come up at the register. But he hands over his AmEx black card like it’s nothing.
We go to a wine bar afterward, and I say my stomach is bothering me and excuse myself to the bathroom again so I can check my phone.
sampaguita72:
Ah yes I think this is it! I see it! I’m in!
But what are you looking for?
I chew my bottom lip, gaming out how much I can tell her.
ruby.ocampo:
Do you see any spreadsheets?
sampaguita72:
Ruby, what are you doing? Why are you poking around in this man’s drive for spreadsheets?
Going through his emails, his texts, I could understand, but this is strange even for you
Even for me.Well, she’s not wrong.
ruby.ocampo:
You know how people used to have little black books? I think maybe he’s doing that, but in a spreadsheet
sampaguita72:
In a spreadsheet! I don’t understand you kids these days
Is this it? It’s the only spreadsheet in here.
My eyes bug out at the file that’s appeared in my private Slack channel. File name: gerbo.xlsx. But when I try to open it, nothing happens.
ruby.ocampo:
Were you able to see inside?
sampaguita72:
