Novelista Girl

by Meredith Schorr

  I shifted my feet. “Um…” It was moment-of-truth time. Did I lie to Bridget and hope to God she and Jonathan were sitting far enough away from my table and the exit to allow me to escape the venue without her ever knowing I was there with Hannah? Or did I fess up and face the consequences? As I debated my choices for what felt like a dog year, Bridget’s eyes widened before me, and I didn’t need twenty questions to decipher the reason.

  “I should have known.” Hannah stood before us, her slender hands on her hips as she looked from me to Bridget and then back at me.

  “You were gone so long, for a split second I thought you walked out on me.” She laughed. “But c’mon. Why would you do that? Then I worried you were puking or something. You probably have the alcohol tolerance of a child.” She laughed again. “I should have known Bridget would turn up. Some things never change.”

  As I tried feverishly to make eye contact with Bridget, and she worked tirelessly to avoid making eye contact with me, neither of us responded to Hannah.

  Darting her eyes back and forth between us, Hannah frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “I, um…” I was so busted, and the words escaped me.

  Hannah sighed impatiently. “While you two pals do whatever it is pals like you do, I’m going to the ladies’ room.” She sashayed her skinny hips (and tiny waist) in the direction I had come, and I was left alone with Bridget in silence.

  Bridget gawked at me.

  I blurted out, “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Seriously? So you’re not really out with Hannah after telling me…correction, lying to me about having dinner with Nicholas?”

  I bit my lip. “I only lied to you because I knew you’d be pissed. I was planning on telling you later.”

  Bridget’s face turned the color of her hair. “Damn straight, I’m pissed. You don’t lie to your best friend. Ever. Unless Hannah is your BFF now,” she said, mumbling the last part.

  “C’mon, Bridget. She wanted to take me out to celebrate Felicia signing me. I owe her.”

  “You owe her?”

  “If it wasn’t for Hannah, Felicia would never have even read A Blogger’s Life.”

  She snorted. “I’d say it’s a fair exchange for all of her shenanigans in high school.”

  “Yes, Bridget. In high school. As in ten years ago. Maybe it’s time we cut the girl some slack.”

  “Never in a million years would I think you’d sell out and kiss Hannah’s ass because she’s a published author.”

  My heart racing, I raised my voice. “I’m not kissing anyone’s ass, Bridget. But I’m not stuck in the past like you.”

  Bridget dropped her chin. “Remember when we fantasized about all of her hair falling out in the shower after watching The Craft?”

  I smiled. “Of course I remember.”

  Her somber eyes met mine again. “And now you’re hanging with her all shoeless and fancy-free.”

  “She’s not that bad. Although she’s not that go—”

  “And lying to me about it.”

  “I only lied because I knew you’d react like this,” I said between my teeth.

  “Like what?”

  “Like a child. You give Hannah way too much power. Get over it already.” I whipped my head around, afraid we were causing a commotion in the restaurant.

  “You’re such a hypocrite.”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “What are you talking about?”

  “I give Hannah way too much power. When Nicholas said the same thing to you about Daneen, you didn’t take it too well as I recall,” Bridget said, cocking an eyebrow.

  “It’s different,” I said, biting my lip. “Hannah is in our past, and Daneen is in my present.”

  Motioning over her shoulder toward the ladies’ room, Bridget said, “It seems Hannah is in your present too.” She shrugged. “I should get back to Jonathan.”

  “Afraid if you leave him alone, he’ll meet someone else he actually wants to marry?” I pressed my hand against my mouth the minute the words came out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  With a shake of her head, Bridget said, “It’s really sad how small your world is—how you can’t possibly comprehend someone not wanting the same things as you. Jonathan might not want to marry me, but at least he wants to spend time with me. Too bad I can’t say the same about Nicholas.”

  I muttered “Cheap shot” under my breath.

  “When I said you had nothing to worry about with Nicholas, I was being nice.” As Hannah rejoined us, Bridget looked at us both and said, “You girls have fun now,” before walking away.

  “Did I miss something? What’s got your slightly taller Siamese twin’s curls in tangles?” Hannah asked.

  I shrugged and trailed her back to our table, striving to find the humor in the evening’s irony. No matter how many times Hannah had endeavored to drive a wedge between Bridget and me during our secondary education years—with baseless rumors of one’s betrayal and deceit upon the other—our alliance had held strong. Our bond was unbreakable, our trust nonvulnerable to outside interference. Now, when Hannah no longer cared if we took our friendship to the grave or even came out as lesbian lovers, we were fighting over her.

  What little patience I had stored away for Hannah before I went to the bathroom was gone by the time we returned to our table, along with my appetite, and we parted ways less than fifteen minutes later. Hannah said she would try to put in a good word with Felicia to accept my rewrites, and I pretended to believe Hannah’s influence over Felicia had that far a reach. As I made my way outside, I tried to catch Bridget’s eye, but both she and Jonathan had their backs to me. She was no doubt telling him what a horrible friend I was. I hoped Jonathan would stick up for me, but considering it was Bridget who stroked his sausage and not me, my expectations in that regard were managed. Hopefully Nicholas would side with Team Kim, but I didn’t have high hopes of him being around to hear my version of the facts.

  What if Bridget was right about my future with Nicholas? She knew I was uneasy about our relationship at the present time, but whether or not her primary intent was to hit me where it hurt didn’t mean there wasn’t truth to it. Things with Nicholas were not ideal. Maybe I was losing both of them.

  The lights were off in my apartment, and it was quiet except for the barking German Shepard/Siberian Husky mix in the neighboring apartment and the squealing of brakes on the street below. After turning on the television, I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. On the refrigerator was a note from Nicholas: I got out of work early tonight, but since you weren’t home, I called George. Sorry I missed you!

  My stomach sank. I yearned to crawl onto Nicholas’s lap and cry about my fight with Bridget while he stroked my hair and wiped away my tears. He’d gently coax me to make the first move and call her. It was me who lied, after all. And even though her jab about Nicholas was below the belt, I was the one who made the first nasty comment about Jonathan. Bridget and I had argued before, but this was the first time we’d fought, and I was scared. I needed my boyfriend to assure me it would all be okay, but I couldn’t wait for him to come home and hold my hand while I called. I had to put on my big-girl panties and do it without his support.

  She didn’t answer her phone—probably screening my call. I left a message for her to call me so we could talk. Then I glanced around my empty living room, indubitably aware of how lonely I was. Much more so than I ever was when I lived alone. Only one thing could save the night—a message from Felicia saying she loved my rewrites. It had been hours since I checked my email. At least my disastrous night out with Hannah and resulting argument with Bridget served to distract me from constantly refreshing my account. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but I was desperate for a silver lining.

  My hopes soared when I saw the new email from Felicia. As my heart thumped a
gainst my chest, I raised my head skyward, closed my eyes, and repeated, “Please, please, please.” Then I exhaled deeply before clicking on the email.

  Dear Kim,

  Great headway on the rewrites. I was hoping for a bit more conflict though. We want the readers to earn the happy ending, so throw a couple more stumbling blocks in Laurel’s way. You know when you’re in the ocean and crushed by wave after wave, unable to get your bearings? It should feel like that.

  I know you can do it! Call me if you need to brainstorm.

  F

  Fight with Bridget—check, absentee boyfriend—check, dissatisfied agent—check. I was zero for three. Desirous to put the day behind me, I got in bed and was on my stomach, my head buried in the fluffy pillow, when Nicholas got home and joined me.

  “You up, Kimmie?” he whispered.

  Without lifting my head, I said, “Yes,” but the sound was muffled by the pillow.

  Nicholas laughed. “I think that was a yes.”

  I flipped over onto my back. “Hi.”

  On his side facing me, he said, “Hi, stranger,” and softly swiped a finger across my cheek.

  “Have fun tonight?”

  “Yeah. We hung out at Sarah’s friend’s bar.”

  Sarah was George’s girlfriend. Her friend Tim from culinary school was a bartender at an uptown Italian restaurant. “Free drinks?”

  “But of course.” He smiled. “How was your night?”

  “Epic.”

  Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “You seem rather gloomy for someone who had an epic night.”

  “Epically bad. I got in a fight with Bridget, and Felicia said my rewrites weren’t good enough.”

  “I’m sorry. Let’s discuss this more tomorrow. I’m ready to drop, but I’m sure you’ll make up with Bridget. You guys are solid as a rock.” His lips turning up, he added, “Did you know that song only made it to number twelve on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100?”

  My body tensed and through gritted teeth, I said, “So on the one night you don’t work late in God only knows how long, you have enough energy to go drinking with George, but you’ll talk to me ‘tomorrow’? Thanks, Nicholas. Thanks for nothing.” I turned on my side so he was facing my back.

  Nicholas exhaled. “Of course I have time for you, Kim. Tell me what happened.”

  I flipped over on my other side. “Hannah asked me out to dinner, and I didn’t want to tell Bridget—”

  Nicholas yawned. “Excuse me,” he said, covering his mouth with his hand. “You had dinner with Hannah?”

  A painful lump in my throat, I conceded defeat. “Get some sleep, Nicholas. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  “You sure?”

  I longed to ask if he still loved me, but too afraid to risk another disappointment, I said, “I’m sure.”

  Nicholas removed his pillow from the sham and tossed it on the floor before slipping under the covers. Kissing me on the shoulder, he said, “Tomorrow will be a better day” and closed his eyes.

  I nodded. I began to say, “From your lips to…” but Nicholas was already asleep before I could even complete the sentence.

  Chapter 28

  The next morning, I woke to the sound of Nicholas’s footsteps throughout the apartment. I stretched lazily for a moment until the events of the night before came rushing back, and I sat up in a panic remembering my duel with Bridget. Last night was the first time we’d ever gone to bed angry with each other, and we’d both said terrible things. I shouldn’t have lied to Bridget, but she shouldn’t have taken it so badly. She had no reason to be so jealous and insecure. It wasn’t as if Hannah could ever replace Bridget. Bridget was the wind beneath my wings. My comment about Jonathan was royally mean, but she packed a punch with her jab about Nicholas too. As far as I was concerned, we’d both screwed up, but it was no reason to throw away more than a decade of friendship. Hopefully Bridget came to the same conclusion after sleeping on it, and we could put the awful night behind us and lock it away somewhere never to be revisited again. I’d call her again later and make the (second) first move.

  Nicholas was sitting at the table tapping at his phone when I joined him in the kitchen. “Morning,” I said with a touch of apprehension. I ached to confide in him but worried he’d be in a hurry to get to work. Or worse, not remember our conversation from the night before at all.

  “Feeling better today?”

  I released a breath of relief. He did remember. “Not really,” I said, sitting down next to him.

  Glancing at his watch, Nicholas said, “I have a few minutes before I need to leave. What happened?”

  “I had a nasty fight with Bridget last night.” The hollowness in my chest deepened as I said it out loud.

  Nicholas cocked his head to the side. “About?”

  “Hannah Marshak.”

  Nicholas gave me a slow smile. “Well, I’m certain a dispute concerning Hannah won’t mark the end of your friendship with Bridget.”

  I bit my lips. “The thing is…we fought about other things too.”

  “What other things?”

  Jonathan. You. Us. My stomach twitched as I searched for the right words to tell him how I’d been feeling lately—how much I missed him and how afraid I was that by giving his all to work, he was not reserving enough energy to nurture us. If I told him, maybe he’d take me in his arms and vow to find a way to make time for the two of us without threatening his position at work. But what if he didn’t?

  “Kim?” Nicholas glanced at his watch again.

  “Do you have to get to work?”

  “Kind of, yeah.” He stood up and pushed his chair toward the table. Kissing the top of my head, he said, “Call Bridget. You’ll feel better.”

  I gulped. “Okay.”

  I arrived at work determined to right all of my wrongs before they suffocated me. First, I would call Bridget again and put an end to our squabble. Then, I would attack my work in progress by adding more choppy waters to my heroine’s journey and, by doing so, keep my readers guessing and on high alert until the very last page. Finally, I would muster the confidence to instigate a heart-to-heart with Nicholas. My insecurity paralyzed me in the kitchen earlier, but I couldn’t fret silently for much longer.

  The goal was to accomplish all of this by the stroke of midnight.

  Unfortunately, Rob had me running around like a last-minute shopper on Christmas Eve—dashing back and forth between my desk to print out documents, the copy room to make enough sets to supply a baseball team, and the conference room to sort and collate—and by the time I picked up the phone to call Bridget, it was nearly two o’clock. Before I had the chance to complete the call, Rob was upon me once again, this time with Daneen at his side. I slipped my phone back into my desk drawer and looked at them expectantly. “Busy day, eh?”

  “Trial preparation usually is,” Rob said with a shake of his head.

  I offered a half-assed frown. It was hard to take pity on Rob knowing he secretly lived for the frantic pace and the high stakes that came with big cases, but it was part of what made Rob Rob. I glanced from him to Daneen. “What can I do to help?”

  Rob handed me a piece of paper with his mostly illegible-to-the-untrained-eye handwriting. “Hotel and flight reservations. Book us anywhere with a four- or five-star rating within a fifteen-minute cab ride from the Dade County Courthouse. I wrote down all of the dates and addresses you should need. Please take care of the two of us.” He angled his head toward Daneen. “And David.”

  By far, my favorite work-related task was choosing where Rob stayed while away on business. I loved to research different hotels for their business amenities, gym facilities, and on-location restaurants. I also enjoyed the challenge of booking flights with the least layovers and the most points. Ready to work, I sat up straighter and circled my shoulders back. “On it.”

  “Thanks, Lon
g,” Rob said before walking back to his office.

  Following him and with barely a glance in my direction, Daneen mumbled, “Yeah, thanks.”

  Perhaps I would “accidentally” book Daneen at a Best Western.

  I reached my arms over my head for a moment before reading Rob’s note. I read it once and then again, squinting my eyes the second time to better make out the dates Rob had indicated they would be heading to Florida. It had to be a mistake. With the note in my hand, I walked to Rob’s office and stood at the entrance. “Um, Rob?”

  He looked over Daneen’s head toward me. “Yes?”

  “This says you’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

  Daneen whipped her head around to face me. “What of it?”

  Ignoring her, I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. “Um, this is the Orange Essence case, right?”

  Rob nodded. “Correct.”

  “I wasn’t aware the trial was coming up so soon. Is, um, is Nicholas going?” I carefully breathed in and out and then repeated the motion. Surely if Nicholas was joining them in Miami, he would have told me by now. In and out.

  “Yes. He’s going. Why?”

  One side of Daneen’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Yeah. Why, Kim?”

  “No reason.” But the steam coming out of my ears defied the words leaving my mouth.

  As soon as I got back to my desk, I called Bridget. Despite our current circumstances, Bridget was my best friend, and I needed her. Voicemail. “Bridget. It’s me. I know you’re mad and I’m sorry, but I really need you. Please call me back.”

  The afternoon crept by without a return call from Bridget. It took me over an hour to book flights for Rob, Daneen, and David, and to reserve three rooms at the Mandarin Oriental. I finally took a lunch break at three thirty, during which I drafted a broad outline of possible roadblocks to throw in Laurel’s way. I also finished From Tuscany With Love, the latest book in my review queue. But I’d probably need to leaf through the last chapter again before writing my review because the entire time I was reading about the main character’s travels in Italy, my mind was on Nicholas’s impending trip to Miami. Why hadn’t he told me he was going away on a business trip—in two days? It wasn’t as if he didn’t have ample opportunity, like this morning. Nicholas often claimed he didn’t want to bore me with “work talk,” but failing to provide the details on discovery and evidence was one thing; omitting the news he would be leaving the state for several days was another. If there was a reasonable explanation, I couldn’t find it. The answer was with Nicholas, and as I walked the steps to our apartment later to confront him, my heart was jumping in my chest. I had sent him a text asking what time he’d be home, and even though he said he’d leave work at a “reasonable” hour, I was surprised to see him sitting at our breakfast nook when I walked in the door.