CHAPTER 9DENISE
CHAPTER 9
DENISE
It took us almost two hours, but we destroyed everything in that room. From the couch to the cute little knickknacks hidden behind the flat-screen TV. The room was littered with glass, porcelain, and wood chunks.
We’d cycled through all the weapons to find the one that worked the best for us. I found the aluminum bat to be the easiest to use and swing, but Cleo was twirling that hammer around like she was still a drum major. I gazed over and happened to catch her sniffle. She quickly played it off as something that had gotten under her goggles.
There was a lot that she kept to herself. She was always my rock when I needed her to be, but whenever I tried to get her to open up, she’d change the subject. I turned to her as she fruitlessly searched for something more to smash.
“Cleo.”
“Hmm.” She glanced up from around the destroyed corduroy green couch.
“You know you can talk to me,” I said, watching her face scrunch up
“Duh. Of course, I know that.” She waved me off and I grabbed her wrist.
“Cleo. You can talk to me.” I repeated.
Shaking her head, she leaned against the wooden couch frame.
“This is for you.” She shook her head as she eyed our joined hands.
“Cleo...”
“I feel stuck!”
I nodded, encouraging her to keep going.
“I graduated from school, and I’m working, but I’m not going anywhere. Nothing is going right.” Her words all came out in a rush.
“Well, wait. What do you think right looks like?” I asked, rubbing at the back of her hand.
“That same American Dream shit. A house, a fence, a tire swing, two-point-five kids. I ain’t got none of that. I haven’t even started paying off my student loans yet. It’s like I’m in mud and I can’t get out.”
I watched her for a moment. “Have you been taking on your side clients?”
“I haven’t had the time! Now that I head up the team, I’m spending every second coddling these cheap-ass clients and worrying about workloads.”
It seemed like she’d been talking about having her own firm for ages, but it always took a backseat. She’d been at that job for a few years. The stuff that they’d promised her was always just out of reach. She deserved better.
“Is it time to strike out on your own?” I asked.
“With what money? If I had regular clients, maybe? But the way they have me working...” She sounded exhausted.
We’d always talked about our thirties, raising kids together and living next door to each other. But life happened. And we didn’t have it all. Yet , I reminded myself. We didn’t have it all… yet .
I could see what this was: Cleo was scared to bet on herself. She had to move past all that shit because she was right. She was stuck, and she couldn’t go in one direction or another without getting the courage and moving her fucking feet. I knew what I needed to do.
“So, while we’re planning for all this Curtis bullshit, we’re also going to draw you up a business plan. And we’ll work on your website.” I kept talking as she shook her head. “And once you get a really strong portfolio together, I can reach out to some folks that I know need public relations and marketing help.”
“I can’t ask you—”
“Uh, first, you aren’t asking, I’m telling. You’re in mud, right? Consider this me giving you a shove. Secondly, you know this is how this works, right? Once you climb the ladder, you grab onto the bitches next to you and pull them up. Consider yourself dragged.”
Her jaw dropped and I chucked her chin.
“This shit with Curtis is just a test of your skills.”
After a few seconds, she eyed up at me.
“Okay. But you gotta stop sandbagging me and trust the process.”
I grimaced and puffed my face up.
“Den...”
“Fine,” I said, with a roll of my eyes.
“Nah,” she replied, taking off a glove and pulling out her pinky. “Swear it.”
Shaking my head, I removed a glove and locked my pinky with her.
“It’s sworn,” I said.
There was a knock on the door and Naya came strolling back in. She whistled as she glanced around the room and took in the damage.
“How do you ladies feel?” Naya asked, smiling at us.
“Like my body is a leaking bag of tapioca pudding,” Cleo said.
I slapped my forehead and Naya cackled from her belly.
“But is it leaking all the stress out?” she asked. Her hand went around her waist as she laughed.
“Girl, ask me tomorrow.” Cleo was still leaning against the couch as Naya spoke.
“Well, I don’t know about her, but I feel better. Lighter.” I smiled, realizing how true it was. Somewhere between tearing stuffing and foam out of the couch and writing nasty shit about Curtis on glasses and plates before I smashed them, I felt my world getting a little less dull and the weight that had been pressing down on me begin to ease. My shoulders were aching, but it was a good burn—one that made me feel alive.
Naya’s eyes lit up. “I’m so glad to hear that. Since this was your first time, we have a tradition if you’d like to partake. Choose one thing that meant the most to you—”
“The couch.”
Cleo and I spoke at the same time, and we looked at each other. She laughed, rolling around on the wall like she was some creature out of one of those horror movies she loved.
Naya chuckled. “He told me you two were a handful,” she said.
“Of course he did.” I scoffed, pushing to my feet and clutching at my spasming stomach.
“So, this couch harbors everything: your rage, your fear, your frustration. It’s time to let it go and seal it all in. Some people sign it or say a few words to it. After that, it goes in an airtight case surrounded by salt and rosemary out front. You just leave it with me.”
Cleo walked forward and kicked the cushion.
“That’s all I got,” she said before she collapsed against the wall.
“I guess that leaves me.” I straightened my back and inspected the puke-green cushion. Picking at some fluff, my eyes focused on the tattered fabric.
“The couch was the last real argument we had. I wanted to go for something a little more affordable. He insisted on some horrifically expensive cream couch from Scandinavia. He watched me slide my card and was so smug…” I laughed humorlessly. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
I tore off some fabric from the cushion, signing my name on the scratchy fabric and drawing a line underneath my signature. I handed the fabric to Naya and looked up at Cleo.
“We’re gonna bury his bitch ass.”
Cleo smiled wide, her teeth gleamed in the light. “I thought you’d never fucking ask. I have a plan and you’re gonna hate it.”
“I’ll get over it,” I said, my voice rough.
Cleo jumped away from the wall and started to shake her ass, swinging her hips. “Get your back up off the wall, dance. Come on!” She sang as she twerked. Naya silently covered her mouth.
“Naya, this is probably the worst time to mention it, but that girl over there is a marketing savant. Anything you need, she can do.”
Cleo continued to shake her ass, oblivious to the world. Naya studied me and said, “Your man has my email. Forward me her resume.”
I smiled and gestured at my ridiculous and amazing best friend, “She’s only like this sixty percent of the time. Okay, maybe seventy.”
Naya laughed. “I can work with that.”
Cleo was panting by the time she turned around and realized we were watching her.
“Oh, I–I thought we were all dancing… My bad.”