Totally Worth It, page 19
Natalie came out from the back of the salon, walked over behind Meg’s chair. “Meow!” She raised her eyebrows and bit her lower lip. Then she handed Meg a slip of paper containing the words Club Fenimore 9 p.m. in big bubbly handwriting.
That evening, Meg broke her cardinal rule and didn’t show up until nine forty. She even had a drink at the hotel bar to try to relax a little beforehand. Her nerves were unwarranted. Natalie spotted her as soon as she arrived and dragged her over to the rest of the group, which included David and his boyfriend, who were lovely. Natalie’s friends were nice, and they vied for her attention. Meg gave it almost exclusively to Natalie though, who was sweet and even a little shy.
Meg drank, she danced. She even made out with Natalie both on and off the dance floor. It was way more of a public display than Meg would ever engage in at home, but then, she wasn’t home. She was clear across the Atlantic, partying with a group of people that she would, in all probability, never see again. She let her hair down, proverbially of course, and had a blast.
The next day as she crossed her ankles and relaxed into the aisle seat en route to New York, she thought about the last six days, the last six weeks, the last six months. She felt exhilarated. Smoothing her hands along the back of her newly exposed neck, she chewed the inside of her cheek and suppressed a smile, wondering if it was possible to feel like an entirely different person simply from a haircut.
*
Still riding the high of the last few days, Meg headed straight for her sister’s house after getting off the plane. She’d missed Shannon and Matt more than she’d thought possible in the last few months. She had souvenirs for them—purchased at the airport of course, but it was the thought that counted—and she was eager to spend some quality time with them. Deirdre would be turning one soon, and Meg felt like she had missed half of her niece’s short life already.
It was so easy being in their presence that Meg ended up spending the entire weekend there, gorging on takeout, cheesy movies, and good wine. Shannon and Matt went crazy for her haircut, and they made Meg reenact for them exactly when and how she came to the decision to chop it off.
Once or twice over the weekend she considered telling them about hooking up with Natalie. At least it would keep them off her back about Lexi. Since the day they’d met Lexi shortly after Meg moved in, both Shannon and Matt consistently harassed her about why they weren’t together. They were completely dissatisfied with the truth: while Meg and Lexi were both gay and attractive, they were simply not attracted to one another. They fit as friends. Perfectly, actually. It was an answer her sister and brother-in-law were routinely disheartened by. Meg knew it came from a good place, so she didn’t blame them. They wanted her to be happy. Meg didn’t dare tell them about Mia. As close as she was with Shannon, there really was no way she was going to tell her that she basically had a fuck-buddy.
In the end, she didn’t tell them about Natalie, even though there wasn’t much to tell—they’d only kissed. In a way, the secrecy of it was nice, kind of like having her own personal memento of London.
She finally went home after dinner Sunday night. She was in no rush; there was no feeling that she had to beat the clock. She wondered if this new sense of calm was because her work in London was finally complete, giving her the time and freedom to enjoy her home. She would be lying if she didn’t admit she thought it was at least marginally possible that her new look contributed to her positive attitude change. Over the weekend, the thought had occurred to her more than once that perhaps by cutting her hair off, she had somehow chopped away all of the pent-up tension in her body. She knew it didn’t make sense, but rather than analyze it to death, she simply went with it.
The Monday after she returned from London, she marched into Anne Whitmore’s office with a speech fully prepared, ready to accentuate her accomplishments of the last half-year. She planned on pointing out she was well aware that Sasha Michaels made more money than she did. She was even going to be truthful as to how she came into that particular bit of knowledge.
Before she could even begin, Anne cut her off.
“Megan, your hair looks fabulous. Turn around, let me get a good look.” Anne made a circular motion with her index finger.
“Thanks, Anne,” Meg said through a smile, obliging with a quick spin, before she started. “What I really want to talk to you about today is my performance over the last six—”
“You want a raise, Meg.” Anne beamed. “You deserve one. We’ve already discussed it. The partners voted on it at the last meeting, in fact.” She wrote down a figure on a piece of paper and handed it across the desk. “This salary will be reflected in your next paycheck.”
It was identical to Sasha’s. Meg was thrilled. She was also more than a tad relieved to avoid an awkward negotiation.
“So what prompted this?” Anne asked, still focused on Meg’s hair.
Meg folded the piece of paper over and over in her hand until it was a small square and slipped it into her pocket. “I don’t know. Just something I’ve been thinking about doing for a while.”
“Well, it looks great.” The older woman crinkled her brow. “You really are a risk taker. But it absolutely pays off.”
Meg knew she was referencing her work now, more than her hairstyle. It was funny, Meg mused inwardly—she would never have described herself that way, but reflecting a little, she realized she had taken some unorthodox approaches with her projects and they had universally panned out.
Anne continued. “I knew you would be good at this. I really did.” She nodded in agreement with her own assertion. “There was never a doubt for me. But I can’t stress enough how proud I am of you anyway. Now come around here and give me a hug.”
They had known each other for years. Anne was, without question, Meg’s mentor. Her idol, even, in some ways. Meg stepped around the desk and wrapped her arms around her boss. Despite her best efforts to will them away, Meg felt her eyes well up with tears of pride.
Later that day, as she ambled her way home, Meg mentally ticked the items off her to-do list. Spend time with family, check. Ask for raise, check. Now all she had to do was work things out with Mia. That was going to be a tricky one. Even with her newfound self-confidence, she worried about her ability to pull it off successfully. She took a deep breath, drinking in the warm night air. She looked up at the rooftops and was drawn into the beautiful blood-orange sunset that lay beyond them. When she turned her gaze back to street level she noticed Teddy up ahead, sitting on her stoop, thumbing through a magazine and drinking a beer. As she got closer, Meg saw her actually do a double take before she tossed her glossy mag aside.
“Girl, come here.”
Meg knew where this was going. None of her friends had seen her new look yet. Meg strolled over and leaned up against the handrail. “What?” she teased, faking ignorance at Teddy’s reaction.
“Look at you. Wow.” Teddy nodded, clearly approving the change. “Sit down, have a drink with me.”
“Sure.” Meg sat next to the brawny woman. “I think I’ll pass on the drink, though.”
“Water, soda, anything?” Teddy offered.
“Nah, I’m good.” Meg waved her off.
Teddy leaned back into the step behind her and gave Meg a once over, not even trying to hide her assessment. She brushed over her own short black buzz cut that was speckled with gray. “I cut mine off when I was about your age,” she pondered aloud. “Feels good, doesn’t it.”
Meg breathed out a small laugh. “Yeah, it kind of does.”
They talked for easily half an hour about mundane stuff—the weather, summer plans, the Mets’ chances at postseason play. Then Teddy nodded in silence, pushed her glasses up, and said through her thick Dominican accent, “You know, Meg.” She gave a dramatic pause. “You look like you.”
Meg squinted in question, but Teddy answered her before she could actually ask anything.
“Come on, you know what I’m saying. New do, sitting out here so relaxed, chatting away with me. This is you.” She leaned over and mussed Meg’s short locks. “It’s like the real you was hiding under all that hair. Now it’s gone, and I gotta say”—she hummed in agreement with herself—“you look like you.” She smiled a broad toothy grin.
“Thanks, I think,” Meg said cautiously, but she knew it was a compliment.
Teddy reached over and patted Meg’s knee. “Now, when are you going to let me introduce you to my cousin?”
Meg rolled her eyes. She should have seen it coming. She leapt to her own defense. “It’s not that I don’t want to meet her, it’s just that—”
“I know, I know. You don’t want a setup. I remember.” She took a swig from her beer. “Wait a minute, though. We’re doing an open house next month. Over at the Commons.” She tossed her head in the general direction of the center of the development. “That’d be perfect.”
Meg eyed her suspiciously.
“You been to an open house yet?” Teddy asked.
Meg frowned. “Honestly, no. I’m not even sure I understand the concept.”
Teddy licked her lips. She was clearly about to give one of her famous lessons. She was truly a trove of information on Bay West and Meg was grateful for it. Plus she loved Teddy’s rich expressive voice. Meg could listen to her talk for hours.
“Well, you’ve been to a social, so you know what that’s about. Really no different from going to The Kitchen.” Teddy looked up at the sky searching for the best description. “Opens are completely different. For starters, they’re only open to people who live here.” She paused and shook her head. “Scratch that. What I mean is that all open houses are open”—with one hand she mimed quotation marks around the word—“to any resident of Bay West and their invited guests. You don’t have to know the people sponsoring it. But you can’t just walk in off the street, like you can at a social.” She looked at Meg to make sure she was absorbing it all. “So what usually happens is that it’s a much smaller crowd.” She touched Meg’s forearm lightly. “It’s still a crowd though, don’t get me wrong. Think of it as the difference between a big club and a neighborhood bar. It’s a much more chill vibe if you ask me.”
Meg tried to grasp it all. “Why are you having one?”
Teddy leaned back on her elbows and kind of shrugged. “We decided to throw one because our anniversary is in June.” She nodded toward the house, where Rose presumably was. “But really it’s just an excuse to have a party with our friends. People have them for all sorts of reasons, or no reason at all. See, it started back in the beginning. All of us who lived here were having actual open-house parties. Then Kam Browne came up with this idea.” She took another long drink from her beer and wiped her mouth. “Listen, I know she did it as a moneymaker, but so what? For a few bucks, I’m happy to go to the Commons, throw a party for my friends. It’s just gravy that I don’t have to buy shit and then clean it all up. Worth every penny, in my book.”
Meg thought it sounded pretty cool.
With her explanation finished, Teddy got right back to business. “So, like I was saying. Come to the open house in June. My cousin Reina will be there. It won’t be a setup, you have my word.” She thumped her chest twice with three fingers and then held them up stiffly in some kind of massacred boy-scout swear. “You two just meet each other, see if anything clicks. If not, no harm done.” She looked out over the top of her glasses. “Deal?” Teddy held out her hand optimistically.
Meg smiled and rolled her eyes blatantly as she stood up. She returned Teddy’s handshake even though she was still not sold on the idea.
“You roll your eyes now, Meg,” Teddy said as Meg descended the few stairs. “But I guarantee you’re going to love her.”
Meg waved without turning around. “We’ll see,” she called out behind her.
From the corner of the block, Meg could make out Lexi standing in front of her own doorway. She picked up her pace in the hopes of catching her before she went in. As Meg reached her, she realized that Lexi hadn’t moved. She was completely still in front of her door, clutching a half-crumpled piece of paper.
“Hey, Lex.”
Lexi startled at her name and turned to Meg. “Hey.” Having not seen each other in over a week, Meg expected a warmer welcome.
“Oh my God, you cut your hair.” Lexi nodded with a sullen expression. “It looks really great, Meg,” she added with sincerity, if not excitement.
“Yeah, thanks.” Meg was certain Lexi was upset—she’d known her long enough to recognize the signs. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing, I’m fine.” She wiped at her eyes. “Just…nothing. Long day. I should go in.” She motioned to her house. Without looking up again she asked Meg, “You around tomorrow? I’ll stop by.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Meg barely got the words out before Lexi closed the door firmly behind her. Meg reached for her keys and wondered what the hell that was all about.
Chapter Twenty
Lexi successfully avoided just about everyone for almost a week. She dodged Meg’s calls in particular, employing excuse after excuse when Meg tried to pin her down. It had been tricky, but luckily Meg had a busy week at work, so that bought Lexi some extra time. Meg knew something was up, Lexi was sure of it. But now that she had finally made a decision, she would come out of hiding.
It was getting better. Today she hadn’t cried at all.
But her strength was weakening each second she remained in her room. As a matter of fact if she didn’t leave right now she was certain she would reread the letter again, break down again, change her mind again. No way. Today was a turning point. She had decided that when she woke up this morning.
Lacing up her sneakers, she called up the stairs, “Hey, Mush, I’m going down to the boardwalk for a run. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Really? It looks like it’s about to pour,” Chris answered, her voice full of doubt.
Lexi frowned at the gray sky out the window, knowing her mother was right. She stood still for a second and considered the alternative. “I think I can get it in before it rains. I’m gonna try, anyway.”
Chris dangled a set of keys over the railing to Lexi. “Here. Take the car in the driveway. I’m not finished with your gaskets yet, so this will have to do.” Her mom was always doing that—hijacking her car to do some routine maintenance.
Lexi grabbed the keys and gave a small smile of thanks. In moments like this, the favor was marginally inconvenient but a small price to pay. Plus, Chris always provided a loaner. Lexi had to stifle a laugh as she opened the front door and checked out the two-tone maroon and tan 80s-model Ford in the driveway. The thing was the size of a boat.
She slid behind the massive steering wheel and resisted the urge to look over at Jesse’s house. It had been over a month since they’d slept together and Lexi’d had absolutely no contact with her since then. No phone calls, no texts, not a single sighting.
There was only the letter she had received three full days ago, offering a permanent position at Stanton Ducane—the letter that wasn’t even really signed by Jesse. Her signature had been imprinted on the page using the hand stamp Lexi had seen hundreds of times on routine correspondence that required both partners’ signatures. At least Laney Stanton had bothered to take the four seconds out of her day to grab a pen and scrawl her name across the page in earnest.
That small detail spoke volumes. For days Lexi had pored over the letter, looking for hidden messages, clues that she wasn’t crazy, she hadn’t imagined all the little moments they had shared. And then out of nowhere, on what was probably her thousandth rereading, it hit her. Running her index finger over the names at the bottom of the ivory bond paper, it dawned on Lexi—Jesse didn’t care about her, not even enough to sign her conditional offer of employment.
What had happened between them had simply been a one-time thing. She had been an idiot to think even for a minute that it could ever possibly be anything more. Last night that discovery had devastated her, leaving her sobbing quietly under her covers for hours before falling asleep. But this morning she had woken with new resolve. She’d made a mistake, yes. But there was no way she was going to let it destroy her career.
As soon as she got home she would stop procrastinating and call the firm to accept the position.
She was working through just what she might say when she called as she pulled into the lot at the beach. She was more than a little preoccupied and just missed the curb as she made the turn into the parking area. Exhaling a sigh of relief at the near miss, Lexi decided to park the huge car in the corner of the lot, a safe distance away from the few other cars there. She didn’t need to cap off the week from hell with a fender bender because she wasn’t used to driving a monstrosity.
Without stretching, she jogged through the parking area up to the boardwalk entrance, passing by people heeding the warning signs from the looming clouds and thundering surf and heading toward their cars. The sensible thing would be to turn around and go home, she knew it. But even though she had finally made up her mind about the job, she still didn’t trust herself to go back to the house and not do a one-eighty. Even now as she strode up the wooden ramp, defiant in the face of the storm, she felt the nagging indecision edging its way into her mind.
She pushed back against it, running as fast as her legs would carry her, consciously forcing out all thoughts of Stanton Ducane.
Just over half a mile in, the sky opened up full force. There was no drizzle, no light mist. The rain came down hard, pounding into her face and chest. She took pleasure in the pain, imagining that it was the universe doling out her just punishment for being so goddamn naïve about everything. The lightning came next. She saw it make contact with the beach near the edge of the water. The rain was heavier by the second, the boardwalk getting slippery. Her sense of reason took over. Even though she was enjoying her run—the physical exertion was a welcome release after her week of obsessing—it was stupid to risk the lightning, however unlikely her chances of getting struck were. There was an exit ramp a hundred yards ahead. From there she could duck under the boardwalk and take cover until the worst of it passed.
