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“I’m good at my job, too. My real job, not the one where I order Gucci sweat suits online in extra-extra-extra small. Can you tell Alistair? I need to think of some way to impress the shit out of him next time I see him. I haven’t exactly been involved in the business side of the studio here. Got any good ideas, Administration Angel?”
“Sounds like you’re going to have to hire and be a boss. Are you ready for that?”
He’s self-conscious. “I mean, I’m not interested in being a ‘boss,’ but I want to put together a good team.”
“Do you guys have customer accounts?” I watch as he thinks. I’ve got no real idea of what’s involved in his kind of business but I try. “If someone needed to come back multiple times to get more color done, how would you record how much they had left to pay or the quote they’d been given for the total price?”
“We just write it down in the book.”
“What about scheduling the appointment?”
“The book.”
“Payroll? Client information?”
“I think you know the answer.”
“Administration Angel recommends you impress the hell out of Alistair by getting a quote on a software package. Something that texts clients about their next appointment, things like that. Maybe the two locations can be linked together so you can see each other’s weekly takings. Something that can handle payroll and tax. He might say that the book is cheaper, but at least you made a suggestion.”
“Angel . . .” He sighs, and before he can finish that thought, the woman who has been watching from her stool at the bar walks up to our table. She has something to say. As she gets closer, both Teddy and I notice something at the exact same time, judging from his intake of breath.
She’s
really, really pregnant.
Chapter Eighteen
Teddy? Teddy Prescott,” the woman says, passing her hand over her full stomach. “I’ve been looking for you for the longest time.”
His expression dials through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. He’s sighing, nodding, and mentally picking out a car seat when she erupts into cackles.
“Oh, come on. We were together six years ago. Sorry to scare you.”
He lays his head down on his arms and dies. To me, she mouths, Not sorry.
I feel like I’ve had six years shaved off my life-span. “Geez, Teddy. Learn how calendars work.”
Teddy sits up and tries to recover. “Anna. How are you? What are you doing here?” He’s staring then blinking away, fascinated and horrified by the huge drum under her skintight clothes. “Do you need us to drive you to the hospital? How many babies are in there?” He scans the floor for broken waters. His boots make scrabbling sounds on the floor.
She ticks her answers off on her fingers. “Not in labor just yet, but my husband will drive me when I am. One baby. And I’m Brianna, not Anna.”
Teddy replies, “Sorry. You know how I am with names.”
“I know how you are.” Brianna is a little sad now. As an aside to me she adds, “I never thought he’d forget my name, though. I guess some people never change.”
I begin to slide out of the booth, desperate to get away. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Thank you, but no. I just wanted to say hi.” She glances at the childish mess on our table, momentarily distracted. I know she’s estimating my age; it’s all people ever seem to do to me.
I take a stab at lightening the tense vibe. “I’m teaching Teddy how to read, the poor thing never learned.” They both let out identical quacks of amused surprise. “He’s starting a business and has sought my services.”
“You’re a nice girl, volunteering your time like that. He’s not a quick learner,” Brianna says with a grin, but it fades off. “You’re not with him, are you?”
Imagine being able to say yes. “No, of course I’m not.”
“Oh good. He’ll randomly disappear forever and forget your name. At least, that was my experience.”
On her inner forearm is a bluebird tattoo that I recognize as Teddy’s work. What is this stab through the meatiest part of my rib cage? What’s the point of jealousy right now? There are girls walking around everywhere with his art on their body. But I’m not one of them.
