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He’s been chomping the ice all through his soliloquy—because I kind of think he forgot I’m here and is just saying all this for himself—and now that he’s masticated it all down, he swallows and says…
“And if I don’t pull this magazine around and it fails, or worse, becomes some kind of embarrassment or scandal, he and I are done.” He emphasizes the word.
“What? No way, man. Come on.”
“You ever meet my dad?”
“No.”
“Exactly. You’re my best friend and you’ve never met my dad. What does that tell you?” He lets that land and I just nod, slowly. Then he adds, “We. Will. Be. Done.”
I take it in and only nod. Because there’s nothing worse than telling a person that something they know way more about than you do isn’t true, just so you’ll feel like you’re helping them feel better. After a moment, I breathe in deeply and say, “You need another Shirley Temple?” I nod at the empty highball glass.
“Nah,” he says, “I’m driving.”
And that right there is why I love Pierce. It’s because despite all his very best efforts to be an asshole—and they are, honest-to-God, valiant attempts—he won’t ever be able to disguise the fact that under it all he’s a funny, good, decent person.
After a moment, he adds, “Can you track her down, And?”
I shake my head. “I mean, yeah. Probably. Yes. But again, what do you think that’s going to do? Let’s say I can find her. What good do you think it’ll do?”
“If she somehow got wind of my idea and stole it, I’ll fucking bury her.”
“K. And what if it’s—and just hear me out on this—what if it’s just a shitty coincidence, and somebody had a similar idea to yours and just happened to get it out there first? What then?”
His eyes narrow and he breathes in and out heavily through his nose. His jaw tightens. He closes his eyelids and throws his head back. Then he says, “I’m gonna hit the WC.” He stands. “I went ahead and ordered a steak. You should get yourself something. Think of a funny story to tell me when I get back.”
“What kind of…?”
“I dunno. Something with jokes and shit.”
Then he pats me on the shoulder and heads off to the men’s room. It’s tough—really tough—to watch someone you love spiraling. You’re stuck in between wanting to help and not wanting to enable their spin. Pierce knows what that’s like. He went through it with me. Not just with my breakup, but throughout the whole damn relationship. He was there for me. He would show up at my door unannounced if we had a phone call that left him worried. Just jump on a plane from Denver and show up at my door to make sure I was OK. It’s why I’m here. I could’ve put the offices for the company anywhere, but I’m here because Pierce asked me to be. And so, whatever he needs right now to keep himself from falling off the edge of the planet, I’ll do it. I owe him. I owe him for a lot of things.
“Sorry I’m late!”
Oh. Right. I’m on a date. Or whatever. And she’s here now.
And she’s barreling toward me all adither.
I’ve never described anyone before as being “adither,” but she is. She’s waving her hands around like a butterfly flapping its wings, which is a clear indication that she’s already about two sentences deep into a conversation with me that I’ve yet to be included on. She looks amazing. Her blonde hair is down around her shoulders. And I do mean her shoulders. Her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a sleeveless… I dunno what you call it. Tube dress, I guess? It’s kind of like a ribbed cotton thing that goes to just below her knees. And it has a plunging neck line. And ho-ly shit…
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she continues as she arrives at the table. “I had to stay at work longer than I thought because I’m trying to pull all these articles for… Whatever. Doesn’t matter. But I had to stay and then I rushed home, but, and this is just classic, right? My key didn’t work. My key didn’t work. Can you believe that?”
She sits down on Pierce’s side of the table, which I begin to tell her is Pierce’s side of the table, but she’s on a roll, so I just sit back and take it in.
“Cheryl or whatever her name is gave me the wrong key! Can you even…? Or maybe it just didn’t work. Or, but whatever! So, yeah, so anyway, so I had to get management to come let me in, but they haven’t met me, right? Of course, they haven’t, so they wanted proof that it was really me who lived there, but I was like, ‘Uh, to give you proof, you need to let me in,’ right? But so, Catch-22, which… But so anyway, then I remembered that I still had the rental agreement in my purse, so I showed them that, and then finally they let me in, but then, like, y’know, I only saw the apartment for two seconds, so I don’t know where anything is! Are the faucets in your shower weird? The faucets in my shower are weird. It’s like, I couldn’t figure out how to change it over from the tub to the shower. Did you have that problem? Probably not. You probably have a separate tub and shower. How many do you have, anyway? I dunno, but it was so stupid. I mean IT’S not stupid. It just is what it is, but I felt stupid. Anyway, but so then, finally I figured out that you just have to pull a little knob, but then I couldn’t get the water temperature right, and… Oh! And, yeah, the pool gets crazy. I can totally hear it from my place. It’s like, it’s so hot today and everybody was just, y’know, at the pool, and so… That really has nothing to do with why I was running late, I just thought of it. And then I thought I should text you, but I don’t have your number. And then as I was running over here, I realized I could probably just call your office and have them get you a message, but then I thought it’d take longer to do that than just come here, so I did, and hi. Sorry I’m late. I’m just… Ugh.”
