The Fix Up

by Kendall Ryan

  Nausea rolls inside me as I watch the first woman slip inside the door. I can just picture the sultry smile on her red-painted lips, her come-fuck-me eyes as she bats her lashes at him.

  Anna has to clear her throat again for me to realize I’m once again staring off into space as the next girl stands before us.

  We manage to get through a couple more in line, sending some to stand in the line that’s now formed outside Sterling’s door. A few we sent back downstairs, as they weren’t a match.

  Brittany emerges from down the hall, done with her mini-date, and waves her middle finger straight at me and Anna. “Good luck getting him married off. He’s obviously hung up on somebody else.”

  I barely have time to process her words because we’re so slammed with applicants. Bodies are packed wall to wall, and the line grows longer and longer. I’m sweaty and growing agitated, and we’re barely ten minutes into our day.

  Shrugging off my suit jacket, I motion the next girl in line to approach the table.

  Somehow, we make it through the hour or so and a couple of hundred girls. I have no idea how things are going for Sterling, whether he likes any of the women he’s met. Other than a text from him an hour ago that said he had something he needed to tell me, we’ve not had any contact since this began.

  Suddenly, Anna rises to her feet and stretches her arms over her head.

  I glance up at her, wondering if she needs a bathroom break. We joked with each other about wearing adult diapers today so we wouldn’t need to visit the restroom.

  “You know what?” she says, fixing her skirt. “Life’s too short. You only live once, right?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If you’re not going to grab life by the balls, I will.”

  “Anna?” I ask, my mouth going dry.

  “First you let that douche David walk all over you, and now you’re just going to sit back and give up on Sterling too?” She shakes her head.

  My stomach fills with lead, and I watch in stunned horror as my supposed best friend straightens her shoulders and struts all the way down to Sterling’s room, waiting until the security guard opens the door and lets her in.

  The fuck?

  Did Anna just quit her job for a chance with Sterling?

  “Hello? Hellooo?” The blonde standing in front of me wearing stripper high heels waves a hand at me. “Are you okay?”

  My heart is slamming against my ribs, and I’ve broken out in a cold sweat. No, I’m definitely not okay. I just watched twenty years of friendship be thrown away for a shot at a guy. A hot, British, soon-to-be millionaire, but still. If you asked me yesterday if anything could rock my friendship with Anna, I would have sworn on a stack of bibles that nothing could. We were as solid as they come. She knows all my darkest secrets and failures, and she’s been there beside me through them all, just like I have for her. And in an instant, that’s all over.

  “Hello?” Bitch Barbie repeats.

  “Just go.” I motion her down the hall, feeling like I’ve now truly failed at everything. At my job, at being a friend, at winning over Sterling. I can feel the edges of a deep depression that’s standing at attention, ready to take over the moment I let my guard down.

  I send a few more girls away, wondering if Sterling was as thrown off as I was at seeing Anna toss her hat into the ring. I wonder what they could be talking about, and if they’ll click.

  Finally, Anna emerges from down the hall. She walks straight past my table, her eyes forward the entire time. It’s as though she’s fighting to hold her head high and make a graceful exit, but I sense that things didn’t go quite as well as she had hoped. Oh, darn. Then she disappears down the escalator, and I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.

  I wave the next few girls through without bothering to check their names or pull their information cards. I feel like the world’s biggest idiot for setting all this up for the man I’ve fallen for.

  At just before lunchtime, I send a girl in a red dress through to meet Sterling, somewhat aware that she looks vaguely familiar. Maybe she goes to my gym, or then again, maybe I’m just losing it. My entire goal at the moment is to just survive the next few hours and get home, where I’ll enjoy a large bottle of wine.

  Several minutes later, I check my phone for the time again, annoyed that the girl is going to cut into our one break today. Not that I have any interest in actually eating lunch, my stomach is too twisted up in knots for that, but I just want to go hide away from the crowd for thirty minutes and attempt to get my fucking shit together.

  I suspect Sterling’s request to talk over lunch will be the breakup conversation I’ve suspected was going to happen all along. I was just a fun distraction, nothing more. And it’s not a conversation I’m ready to have. Now or ever.

  Realizing she should have been out by now, I rise from the table with a huff and head back to Sterling’s room. The security guard is nowhere to be found.

  What the hell? Guess he decided to take an early break.

  Pulling open the door, I’m struck by several things at once, and my brain struggles to make sense of it all.

  First, there’s a red dress lying discarded at my feet, along with a tiny black thong. Second, there are soft moans—both male and female—in the otherwise silent room. I keep my eyes cast down on the dress, knowing I’ll never be able to un-see Sterling’s heart-shattering betrayal.

  Just as quickly as I opened it, I pull the door closed and stand there, my mouth hanging open, hot tears staining my cheeks.

  The fact that we made love last night makes this moment ten thousand times worse. I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest and forced through a meat grinder.

  With horror, I realize why that girl in the red dress looked familiar. That was Rebecca, Sterling’s ex. The lawyer from his firm. The one he dated for eight months last year.

  It seems he’s found his Mrs. Right, someone who can give him exactly what he wants.

  The contents of my stomach rising, I run for the bathroom. As I dry heave over the toilet, a cry slips from my lips.

  Fuck.

  That shit with Anna surprised me earlier, but if I thought that was shocking, it was nothing compared to this moment.

  Hot tears sting my eyes as I sink onto the cold tile floor in the stall, sobbing. When that first girl came out of the room, she said he was still hung up on someone. I guess she was right.

  Has Sterling been hung up on his ex this entire time?

  With disgust, I realize that last night meant nothing to him. I was just a cheap, easy fuck, one last plaything for the manwhore before he’s forced into settling down. I fell for his act, the one where he pretended to be a decent human being—funny, humble, and kind—but that’s all it was. An act.

  Pushing myself up off the floor, I dry my eyes with tissue and make a hasty exit. I make a brief stop at the banquet table, just long enough to grab my purse and cell, and leave all the folders scattered on the table, ignoring the whispers in the crowd as the women still waiting wonder what’s going on.

  Then I haul ass away from the hotel, needing to be as far away from Sterling Quinn as possible.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Camryn

  “What’s wrong?” Olivia says the second she opens the door.

  I headed straight here to the apartment home of my best friend and boss after leaving the disaster of a PR event I was running.

  “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  Her gaze drifts to the glass bottle in my hands. “Vodka for lunch is generally a bad sign, no?”

  I make a sound of agreement, a sad acceptance of her truth. “Can I come in or what?”

  She opens the door wider and motions me forward. “Only if you promise to tell me what’s going on.”

  I nod. I showed up here in a similar fashion six months ago when David and I broke up, and while wine had been my elixir of choice for that breakup, I knew today called for something much stronger.

&nb
sp; She leads me into the kitchen to get me a glass of ice and a can of lime soda from the fridge. I open the bottle of cheap vodka because in addition to everything else, now I won’t get my bonus, which means my money situation is fucked. The headache I’ll have later will be punishment for my stupidity. Pouring a healthy splash into the glass, I fill the rest with soda and take a long sip.

  “Come on. Let’s go talk,” Olivia suggests, leading me out to the living room.

  We sit down, me on the sofa and her in the leather recliner across from me. She props her feet up with a smile.

  “Sorry. My feet are so swollen, they look like bear claws.”

  I take another sip of my drink, wondering where I should start. Sterling’s betrayal? Anna’s? Or the fact that I’m probably going to be fired when Olivia learns what I’ve done?

  “Wait a second.” Olivia’s eyebrows pull together. “Isn’t the event for Sterling today?”

  I nod, looking down at my hands. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve fucked up, Liv.”

  My voice cracks, and I can’t hold it in even one second longer. A bitter cry bursts from my throat, and tears began to spill down my cheeks. Setting my drink down on the table, I hug a pillow to my chest.

  Then I spill all of it, every ounce of truth that I’ve kept buried in my heart. I don’t stop until I’ve told her everything—that I went and fell in love with him like a world-class idiot, that we made love, that it was the most perfect earth-shattering sex of my life, that I met his mother, all of it. And Olivia sits quietly listening, her hand on the round bump of her belly.

  “It felt so real,” I whisper.

  She looks at me with a sadness in her eyes. “I was worried about this.”

  Then I remember her stark warning at the nail salon that day all those weeks ago. She warned me not to fall for him.

  “Are you pissed about me ruining the recruiting event?” I was half-afraid to show up here and be turned away, that I’d be told I was going to be fired on Monday.

  “No,” Olivia says. “Of course not. His behavior was outrageous. And besides, I should have known better than to pair you up. You two have always had amazing chemistry. It was probably a recipe for disaster from the start.”

  That little admission makes me feel the tiniest bit better, like maybe falling for him somehow wasn’t my fault. It was predestined or something.

  “Anna’s behavior is entirely unacceptable. I’d recommend that we let her go on Monday, if you’re on board with that,” Olivia adds.

  I merely nod. There’s nothing about losing a friend and watching her get fired that I find satisfaction in.

  Just then, Noah walks into the living room, a red apple raised halfway to his mouth.

  I quickly wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Hey, Noah.” Taking a sip of my drink, I try to compose myself.

  His gaze slides from me to Olivia, and he lowers the apple. “Is this girl talk?”

  Olivia nods.

  “It’s fine; you can come in. This is your house,” I say.

  Noah still looks wary, like he wants to make an escape but is silently checking with his wife to be sure it’s okay.

  “Actually,” Olivia says as she drums her fingers on the arm of the chair, “we might be able to use your opinion.”

  I groan inwardly that my very embarrassing truth is about to become public news. This is why having married friends sucks. Nothing is sacred.

  “Is it okay?” Olivia asks.

  I take a large gulp of my drink, polishing it off. “As long as you keep these coming.”

  Noah chuckles. “Coming right up. What is it?” he asks on his way into the kitchen.

  “Vodka soda, and mix yourself one too, mister,” I shout back.

  Olivia’s eyes widen.

  “I’m not drinking alone, and since you’re in no condition to partake, that leaves lover boy.”

  Olivia merely rolls her eyes. “You two are going to be fun to deal with later.”

  I give her a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get my payback one way or another.”

  Noah returns with two fresh cocktails, hands one to me, and then sits down in the chair next to his wife. “Now, what in the fuck is going on that we’re drinking hard liquor at twelve . . . thirty-eight,” he says, glancing at his wristwatch.

  God, it hasn’t even been an hour since I discovered Sterling fucking his ex in the conference room. It feels like I’ve aged sixty years since that time.

  While I concentrate on putting a dent in my second cocktail, Olivia fills Noah in on the basics. She spares me the embarrassment of repeating the delicate parts of my story, but Noah’s expression goes from neutral to angry, but never seems surprised.

  “You knew,” I say when Olivia finishes.

  “Fuck.” He pushes his hands into his hair. “I knew something was going on. But this shit with Rebecca doesn’t make sense. He likes you; he really does.”

  That revelation doesn’t mean much. Sterling might have liked me, but not enough apparently.

  “Has he ever been known to . . .” Olivia pauses, looking at me with concern.

  “Go ahead,” I say, encouraging her.

  “Has Sterling ever been known to hook up with someone like that, randomly, practically in public?”

  The look on Noah’s face says it all.

  “Spill it, Noah. The truth,” Olivia demands.

  “In the past, yeah. There was this time several months ago when we volunteered at a soup kitchen. He banged a girl in the bathroom.”

  Olivia’s face twists in disgust. “He fucked a homeless person? Does the man have any standards?”

  Noah shakes his head. “No, she was another volunteer there for the day.”

  “Guys, this isn’t helping.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Noah rises to his feet. He returns with a bottle of vodka and a fistful of takeout menus. “We need to turn this into a proper post-breakup pity party. Pizza or Chinese?”

  I laugh despite the crappy mood I’m in.

  “Both,” Olivia says, grinning.

  Later as we sit there, eating plates of egg rolls, lo mein, and pepperoni pizza, Noah offers a solution.

  “I could just call Sterling. Find out the truth of what the fuck happened today.”

  In my buzzed state, I consider it for a second. It’s not a half-bad idea.

  “No way,” Olivia says. “He’ll try to talk his way out of it, then he’ll want us to put Camryn on the phone. So, no,” she repeats. “He needs some time to sit and ponder what he did wrong. There’s no redemption for him tonight. Let him suffer in silence.”

  She already made me turn off my phone earlier, and then hide it somewhere in her kitchen where I won’t be tempted to see if I have any missed calls or voice mails.

  Noah and I have put a hefty dent in the bottle of vodka, and I know later I’ll eventually be faced with the decision to cab it home or stay the night in their guest room. But there’s something about being inside their happy home that makes me feel out of place.

  Maybe it’s just that they’re married, and their love is a real, visceral thing I can feel in the space around us, or maybe it’s just because I’m so far from anything similar in my life. It hurts when I pause to think about it. Which is why I need to just keep drinking.

  I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I only know that I won’t be working with Sterling on his search for a wife ever again.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Camryn

  I managed to keep my phone turned off all weekend, and now I’m back at work on Monday morning without knowing whether Anna or Sterling tried to contact me.

  I almost caved a thousand times. Not that I would have contacted him. But I stood at the kitchen counter, my finger poised over the power button to my cell for a long time on Sunday. The pull to know if he’d tried to contact me was so strong. Would there be a text from him to say he was sorry? Would there be an explanation that, after facing all the women, he dec
ided he wanted to get back with Rebecca after all?

  It was better not knowing. For now, at least.

  Navigating my way through mass department e-mails and other things of nonimportance, I stifle a yawn as I try to unclutter my in-box. The comforting morning ritual, paired with a steaming cup of coffee, makes me feel halfway human again. A long weekend spent sulking wasn’t healthy. My work gives me purpose, so at least there’s that.

  I’m still wondering if Anna’s going to be brave enough to show her face here today. And I have no idea what I’ll do if she does, since I’m assuming clawing her eyes out and calling her a cunt is against the employee code of conduct.

  At a few minutes before eight, Anna enters the office. Rather than the confidence she radiated on Saturday, holding her head high as she strutted past my table, today she wears a subdued expression.

  “Hey,” she says sheepishly. She enters the office but stays near the door.

  My gaze lifts to hers, but my fingers remain on the keyboard. My hope is that this is quick and painless, that maybe she’s just here to pick up her belongings.

  “Can we talk?” she asks.

  I tip my chin. “Sure. Say what you need to say.” It’s not going to change a damn thing.

  I have too much respect for myself to be like Hey, you betrayed me? That’s cool. I may forgive her in time, but the trust is gone. And friendships without trust are like bachelorette parties without alcohol—they’re not something I want any part of.

  “I got caught up in the excitement of the event. I mean, really, that’s a compliment to your skills as a publicist.”

  When she gives me an awkward smile, I think I throw up in my mouth a little, but I keep my expression neutral, still willing to hear her out.

  Since I don’t say anything, she presses on.

  “The idea of marrying a multimillionaire, and not to mention that he’s hot and British, I just couldn’t let all that pass without at least trying. I hope you understand that.”