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“I’ll be in the same boat when I come back next week,” she says.
“Hong Kong isn’t as far. It took me nearly fourteen hours and a stopover at Heathrow Airport before I landed at LAX from Stockholm,” I say. “I must’ve slept twelve hours straight when I arrived two days ago.”
“What a pain, but am I ever happy you’re back in California!”
“After gray and dreary cold weather for months on end in Europe, I’m looking forward to the hot Cali sun. I’m sure the warmth will perk me up. There’s a pool—”
“It’s not the ocean, but at least it’s water,” Phoebe says. “The building is pretty anal about keeping the pool clean. Same goes for the entire property.”
“Good to know, but I don’t own a bikini. I’ve been way too jetlagged to leave the apartment since I got into town.”
“I see a shopping spree in your future,” she says.
“Definitely. I’m pasty white and desperate for some color. Over the weekend, I’ll make sure to give my visa card a good workout.”
“Amen to that!” she says. “How’s the apartment?” Phoebe asks, changing the subject. “Is the cleanliness up to your standards?”
“The place works. It seems like the original tenant is even more compulsive than I am. Thanks so much for being my eyes.”
“You’re sure it’s okay?”
“I am, Phoebe.”
“Sorry I couldn’t get you an affordable apartment with an ocean view.”
“You did a great job.”
“Good. I was so nervous you’d hate it.”
She knows me well.
She was instrumental in helping with my move to LA. I live in a color-coded and well-organized world. She doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop me for loving her to pieces. Through her boyfriend, Phoebe caught wind of a sublet in El Segundo. It’s fully furnished, well decorated, comes with floor to ceiling windows, located in a great neighborhood and available for a year. Bonus, I pay half of what I normally would for a place like this. Since I only have three suitcases to my name, this is perfect. For the past two years, my suitcases have been my only possessions in the world after leaving everything behind.
Starting over is a bitch.
“It’s exactly what I need until I find my bearings.”
“I wish you’d stay with us,” she says.
“Phoebe, you just moved in with a wonderful man—a boyfriend I haven’t even met yet. I refuse to be the third wheel.”
“You wouldn’t be,” she says. We’ve been arguing about this since I decided I had healed enough to return to California.
“I’d be in the way.”
“You’re my best friend. Oscar knows that. I’d never allow him to come between us—not that he’s that kind of guy.”
Her loyalty and her friendship mean everything to me.
“God, I’ve missed you so much,” I say, swallowing down my emotions.
“I’ve missed you, too, Ari,” she says, choking up. No amount of text messaging, FaceTime or Skype can replace being close to people you care about the most. “I really wanted us to spend time together.”
“Newsflash. We both live in the same city now. We are going to spend more time together. I’m just unwilling to be in the way of you and copious amounts of sex.”
She laughs.
“Oscar and me have been seeing each other for eight months. We can keep our hands off each other.”
