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"No.” She stomps her foot once to emphases her point. “Talking to me is pleasant. Anyway, why am I here? I'm trying to finish summarizing the notes for your Henderson meeting in half an hour since you won't read anyone else's notes."
"No one else draw pictures for me or writes mean notes in the margins, designed to motivate me to keep going"
She shakes her head. "How much did you make last year? And I don't mean the value of your stocks."
"Anyway, I called you here because we have to talk about what happened at the house this morning."
Her expression doesn’t change. I can’t tell if she doesn’t realize how royally she fucked up, or doesn’t care. "You mean you running off and almost letting your apartment burn down? No thanks for turning your stove off, I see." She adds in a mutter under her breath, “Ingrate.”
"Yeah, thanks, whatever. No, I mean what happened before that.”
She pretends to think about it for a moment. "You giving my designer clothes away?"
"Before that." I’m starting to get a headache. We even have a name for it. An Odette, as a loving tribute to the person who causes me to get weekly deliveries of Tylenol.
"Ohhh.” She snaps her fingers. “I got it. You mean when your little girlfriend ran away."
Finally. "That. What did you say to her?"
"Wait,” she walks up to my desk and slams her hands down on it. “You didn't deny her being your girlfriend."
"She's not but I'm working on it. Now what did you say to her?"
"She's so pretty. Way too good for you. Have you ever thought that when she ran away after you made me pretend to be in looove with you in London, it's because she thought "thank god, now I don't even have to let him down easy."
My head is thumping again. "Odette. For the love of wine, shut the fuck up and tell me what you said to her!"
"Well, which is it? Shut up or tell you what I said?"
"I'm going to push you out that window and then jump after you." And I mean it.
"Ohhh, so romantic, like Romeo and Juliet?"
"Odette!!"
"Sheeeeesh, fine. I didn't say anything. I just came in and she was there and I asked her what she was doing there, and then she ran off."
"Yeah, I know your mouth. What exact words did you use, and how did you say it?"
She shrugs, and plays with the notepad on my desk, avoiding my eyes. "Um. Probably super nicely."
"Odette."
"Ugh, fine!” She sinks into one of the guest chairs. “Look, I let myself in and I didn't know she was there, and I said "Hi, honey, I'm home!" Like we always do and then... I may have... been... a little ... acerbic in my questioning.”
My eyes narrow at my assistant, not for the first time wondering how hard it would be to find a replacement. "And you didn't think to clarify?"
"Why would I clarify? I thought you were hoping I'd come in and shoo her off."
“Did you not recognize her from London?"
"You mean at Bottle when your big nose was in my way? No. I didn't."
"Okay, fine. Go away. Go finish the notes. I want them in ten minutes."
She stands, one hand twirling small circles in the air. It's her tell for when she's formulating a thought in her mind and wants to get it right.
"Spill.”
