6. Saying the Quiet Part Out Loud
6
Saying the Quiet Part Out Loud
I hope people remember that I ensured everyone in this state plays by the rules and that I blocked those who would try to exploit vulnerable people for political gain. If they say I left the system a little fairer than I found it, that’s enough for me.
Jane Coffey, State Attorney General
LUCIE
L ate again, I scanned the restaurant for my friends. Tessa’s distinctive red hair was easy to spot, sparkling copper in the March sunlight near the window. I clutched my satchel and traipsed to the table.
“Lucie, there you are.” Savannah leaped up to hug me. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
I hugged her back. “I’ve been busy.”
“I saw your story in this morning’s paper.” Tessa patted my shoulder. “Nice work.”
I grinned. “Thanks.” Sacramento had been worth the trip. Not only had the immigrants’ story turned into a piece I was proud of, but the migrants were getting their temporary work visas expedited and had found sponsors to help them settle into their new homes. And the state attorney general had launched an investigation into whether the right-wing organization who’d flown them from El Paso to Sacramento would be charged with kidnapping. Take that, Tad. But he’d been on flipping paternity leave, so he’d missed my big-dick-energy at the office.
Carly kissed my cheek. “Sit down. Have a mimosa. You look tired.”
“Good tired, though. While I was in Sacramento, the attorney general agreed to let me interview her for my book. After I turned in my story, I did some work on it.” I’d ridden that wave of energy from my one excellent night of sleep as far as it would go. I was ready to crash. Though some time with my besties might give me a boost.
“That’s fabulous,” Savannah said. “I’m so proud of you, and I can’t wait to read your book.”
“Thanks.” I ignored the gnawing sensation in my stomach. I had months before my deadline in November. I’d finish it on time.
Tessa handed me a mimosa. “You look like you could use this.”
“I don’t look that bad, do I?” I glanced at the window, but my reflection was too ghostly to see properly.
“You’re a little pale,” Savannah said. “And you’ve got shadows under your eyes.”
I smirked. “Maybe I need a product recommendation, Carly.”
“I know just the thing. It’s got vitamin C, and it’ll perk up your skin like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve got a sample at home.”
As Carly extolled the virtues of the cosmetic, I sipped the mimosa. It tasted funny, too acidic. Had the orange juice gone bad? Tessa sipped hers like nothing was wrong, but I set mine down and chugged my water instead.
“Your sales pitch would be more convincing,” I interrupted testily, “if we didn’t know your glowing skin comes from getting good dick on the regular.”
A throat cleared behind me. “Good morning…ladies. Are you ready to order?”
Of course we weren’t, so we sent the server away. Savannah hid her red face behind her menu. “Lucie, have you ever considered not saying exactly what’s on your mind?” she mumbled.
“What’s the point? No one looks twice at a man who’s direct. If I hid behind nice words, I’d be stuck at the Features desk covering who wore what.” I winced. “Shit. Not that that isn’t important, Carly.”
She waved a hand. “It’s not as important as a planeload of kidnapped people. Besides, I do think my skin looks better these days.” She whipped out a small mirror to admire her flushed cheeks.
“Are things still going well with Andrew?” Tessa asked.
“We’re figuring it out. Like the other day, we were walking along the Embarcadero, and I mentioned the old freeway, then I realized he was born after the ’89 quake.”
“No!” Savannah said. “Even I remember that, and I lived in Georgia. I was watching the World Series with my dad.”
“What about you, Lucie?” Tessa asked. “You’re thirty-nine, so you would’ve been little. What do you remember?”
“Nothing at all.” Our house came through fine, and it was just one more memory of my mom sheltering me during a quake. “What about you, Tessa?”
“I was still living out in the Sierra Buttes.”
“Why were you?—”
She shook her head, and I let it drop. Tessa was the mysterious one. I had a feeling there were layers upon layers of history to unearth, like the archaeological site at Troy. But it was up to her to reveal it to us.
The server returned, and we chose our meals. After the server walked away, I leaned toward Savannah. “How are things with you? Are you okay?”
Her smile was lower wattage than usual. “I’m okay. I started temping to get more recent work experience. But it’s boring, you know? I’ve been stress baking every night. In fact, I’ve got bags of treats for you all in my car.”
I lowered my voice. “Is it only the job that’s got you stress baking?”
Her smile wobbled. “I…I moved into the guest bedroom last month,” she whispered.
Carly reached across the table and gripped her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” When Savannah shook her head, her hair hardly moved. “We’re going to go to counseling.”
“You think it’ll help?” Tessa asked.
“I don’t know.” Savannah looked down at her lap. “I need him to understand that I want something different now the kids are out of the house.”
“Like mutual respect?” I’d never met the guy, but from what Savannah said, he was a dismissive asshole. “Oops, did I say that out loud?”
“And we’ve come full circle,” Carly said, “with Lucie saying the quiet part out loud.”
“Hey, it’s why you love me. If I hadn’t said something at that god-awful seminar, we might all be Stepford Wives, worshiping some jerkoff instead of becoming fabulous goddesses.”
“It’s true,” Savannah said. “We do love you for it.”
“Mostly,” Carly muttered.
When our food arrived, I dug into my giant waffle. “Mm. I can’t get enough carbs these days.”
“Really? What’s going on?” Tessa asked.
“Do I need a reason?” I mumbled through a mouthful of crispy, sweet waffle. “I’m tired. Not sleeping again.”
Savannah frowned. “It’s too early for you to be going through menopause, but maybe you’ve got something hormonal going on.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Mom. I’ve been successfully not sleeping for the past fifteen years. It’s nothing new. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’ve been writing like a fiend into the wee hours. And when I get tired, I eat instead of sleep.”
“Still,” she said, “you should go to the doctor.”
Doctor? Shit .
With the story in Sacramento, I’d completely forgotten about that emergency contraception. And now it was too late. Thankfully, my boobs ached, a clear sign I was about to get my period. Defiantly, I stuffed another bite of waffle in my mouth and shook my head.
“You’re just like my daughter,” Savannah said. “Stubborn as a mule. She’s dating this guy, and when she asked what I thought about him, all I said was that he seemed a little…excitable. And now they’re inseparable.”
“Stubborn and”—I pointed my fork at her—“excitable got me where I am in my career. So I’ll eat all the carbs I want, especially when I’m premenstrual.”
“You poor woman,” Tessa said. “Have my toast too.” She handed me the small plate. “Need a Midol?”
“No, it’s probably a day or two away. No cramps yet.”
“Maybe it’s low iron making you pale. Who’s got red meat?” Tessa looked around the table. “Savannah, fork over that sausage.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Really.” But Savannah shoved the sausage link in my face, speared on her fork. “Thanks. And maybe I do need sausage…but the other kind. A good dicking would help me sleep.”
A throat cleared again, and I didn’t have to look to see that our server had snuck up on us again. “Can I get you all anything else?”
I grimaced at her. “Do you have a hot male friend looking for some no-strings-attached sex?”
Her eyes widened. “S-sorry, not that I can think of.”
“Then we’re good, thanks.”
A balled-up napkin hit me in the face. “Lucie!” Savannah hissed. “Behave.”
I wiped a drop of syrup from the corner of my mouth. “Carly, are you going to eat your last pancake? Trade you my cantaloupe for it.”
Carly was such a good friend that she traded her pancake for the cantaloupe, even though it smelled off. Strange that my senses of taste and smell had gone funny. Maybe I should visit the doctor like Savannah said.
I’d make time for it. Next week.