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Me: You make it special.
Allie: Jesus, sometimes I think you’re trying to make me blush.
Me: I am.
Chapter 20
Allie
You can’t make old friends, but don’t let that stop you from making new ones.-Allie’s horoscope, May 17th
“It looks good right there to me,” I say to Devon, who’s been moving the same chenille pouf around her new office for ten minutes, uncharacteristically indecisive.
“Love you, but you’re wrong,” she replies, picking it up and walking back to the window she first set it under. She and Bea have been working out of this space for the past month, but all the furniture and decor have to be placed to perfection for their grand opening party tomorrow night.
My design skills are sorely lacking, so I’ve been helping by providing coffee and an extra set of hands. “What’s next, boss?”
“The guys from the showroom should have been here an hour ago with the sofa and the rest of the furniture. There isn’t much else today.” Devon twist her almost-white blonde hair together into a clip, before she holds up her wrist, checking her black athletic watch. Most days, she wears a cream-colored leather one,but today she changed it to match her outfit, essentially dressed for a workout in white Adidas, black wide-leg sweatpants, and a fitted brown crop-top that shows off her flat stomach. “Yeah, they said between one and two. It’s quarter after three, I’m calling again.”
While Devon is on the phone, Bea pushes open the front door, balancing a cardboard box on her hip. She’s wearing loose-fitting olive-green pants, tan Nikes, and what I’m assuming is a t-shirt of a band I’ve never heard of. Seeing her outside of barre class and workout gear still surprises me sometimes. Her vibe is much less Workout Barbie, as she calls it, and much more Cool Girl Barbie.
“Hello, angel!” she greets me in her low, sing-song voice.
“Hi, gorgeous! Let me help you.” I take the box from her.
Bea slides off her rectangular orange sunglasses. “You’re perfect. Thank you,” she says, moving to style a bookshelf that holds exactly six books and a bunch of otherstuff.
“I still can’t believe I took your classes for years and never knew you were a designer.”
“I’m a woman of many mysteries,” she says, moving a bronze vase down two shelves. “But my degree isn’t one of them. I just like to keep this part of my life separate from the gym.”
Devon walks back into the room. “I am very stressed,” she says instead of greeting Bea.
“You don’t look stressed,” Bea responds. “You’re playing it off beautifully.” And she’s right. Devon’s moods are often hard to read. She has an enviable poker face.
“Thank you for that,” Devon says. “I just got off the phone with the showroom who sold me the sofa and the rest of the rugs and furniture we need. They over-committed their delivery schedule, and they can’t deliver until Monday.”
“Do you need all that for your grand opening?” I ask.
“Not technically,” Devon says, and I can tell she’s frustratedby the tiniest change in the shape of her mouth.
“We need them,” Bea disagrees. “It’s the grand opening ofFriday West Interior’s first office. It matters. We’ll figure it out,” she finishes, with the comforting authority of someone who knows how to pull a solution out of thin air.
“The showroom closes at five, and they’re not open tomorrow. I’ve got an hour and a half to figure out a way to get it picked up,” Devon says.
“We’vegot an hour and a half,” Bea corrects, pulling out her phone.
“How do I not know anyone with a truck?” Devon asks.
“Oddly enough, neither do I,” Bea says, “but rentals exist. I’ll start calling around.”
“I kind of know someone with a truck,” I volunteer.
“Who?” Devon asks. It’s a fair question. We have all the same friends.
“Luke.”
Neither of them looks surprised. Maybe I’m not playing things as close to the chest with him as I thought, but I haven’t said a word to either of them about him since the day he helped fix my car. I don’t fully understand what’s happening between us. He’s sweet to me, keepsfuckingtaking care of me, and I don’t even blame him for taking the building anymore. So, I guess that makes us friends? But he flirts with me. A lot. And I might flirt back. But nothing could ever happen between us.Right? Right.I’m movingTurbinein a few months. Although I’m still not sure where, which is another—
