Chapter 11
Devon
4:45 – Barre class
5:45 – Shower @ Gym
6:15 – Taco Tuesday
8:00 – Catch up on emails
- From Devon’s schedule, August 20th
“Let’s do a no phones dinner,” Allie suggests, sliding into a round booth at our favorite Mexican place. Bea agrees, happy to switch her phone off completely. She’s on it less than any person I know, partially because she stays off social media.
It’s hard to say if the suggestion was intended to keep me from working or to keep my pink-haired roommate from texting her ex. It took her less than a day to give him her new number, and he keeps finding excuses to text her. He lived there too. He shouldn’t have to ask where the vacuum is.
“Sounds fair,” I say, ignoring the tinge of anxiety that pulls at my chest as I put my phone away without checking the six texts from a client whose floors were installed this morning. An hour and a half of Taco Tuesday shouldn’t hurt anything.
Allie manages to wait until we are in the car on the way home before bringing up her latest favorite subject, the idea of me taking a break from work. “You plan a vacation yet?” she asks as I slide into the backseat of Bea’s car. She insisted on picking everyone up and being designated driver tonight since the rest of us needed to ‘blow off some steam.’
“Not quite,” I laugh, clicking my seatbelt into place in the seat behind Bea.
Sadie sits sideways in the passenger seat, facing me as best she can without her seatbelt choking her. “Have you at least admitted to yourself that you need a real break?”
“What I need is to keep running Friday West, but thanks for your concern.” They mean well, so I keep my irritation from affecting my voice.
“Dev, it’s been literal years since you took a vacation,” Allie says, making an inconveniently good point.
Bea makes quick eye contact with me in her rearview mirror as she’s backing out of her space. “As the only other person working at Friday West, I feel qualified to say that you need a damn vacation.” Her words cut through my defenses, if only just a bit. Bea generally minds her business and leaves everyone else to mind theirs as well, so it’s rare to get such a pointed observation from her.
“Tell me more about that,” I say.
Her answer comes quickly, like she’s been waiting for the opportunity to say it. “You’re doubling work. We finish a presentation, and you spend the next two days reviewing and tightening it up, and I rarely see any differences when it comes time to present.”
“Hmm.” Coming from a measure twice, cut once family, the idea of leaving my work without an extra pass is deeply concerning.
“And you have shit boundaries with our clients,” she continues. This is feeling increasingly like an intervention. “You respond within fifteen minutes at all hours of the day, so they learn that it’s okay to expect that from you. It’s not healthy.”
That is something I could stand to work on. “Going on vacation won’t teach them not to expect that from me.”
“It would be a good start,” Allie adds.
When Bea drives past the turn to Sadie and my house, my suspicions grow.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Sadie’s eyes widen a little, then she smiles exaggeratedly. “We’re going for a little drive in the desert, that’s all,” she says, the words sounding rehearsed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Allie tries to cover Sadie’s obvious lie. “Sadie, wasn’t there something else you wanted to say?” So, it is all rehearsed. Lovely.
“You don’t sleep enough,” Sadie says, still turned to face me from the passenger seat up front. “You always go back to your room and start working again after dinner.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “We live together now, and I still barely see you.”
“Why don’t we start doing movie nights again, like we used to in college?” I suggest. They’re hell bent on getting me to slow down, and while I find the idea of a vacation completely unreasonable, a few concessions here and there in the direction of resting more would probably be beneficial. I can afford to add movie night to my list of regular self-care tasks. “Working late every night is slightly ridiculous, even for me. A movie night would be a nice way to break up the week.”
“That would make me so happy,” Sadie says through a bright smile.
The four of us decide on Thursday for movie night, largely because Sadie likes to celebrate Friday Junior. She’s going to bake cookies every week, and Bea already has a list of movies that ‘should suit our combined tastes.’ There is a little back and forth over whether it should be just us four, or if we want to open the invite to others, and it’s decided to keep it just to us. I would have thought my distraction from the original topic of Devon needs a vacation was working if we hadn’t been on the highway headed away from Palm Springs for the last twenty minutes.
“Does anyone want to tell me where we’re really going?” I finally ask, when Bea turns onto a dirt road.
Allie folds her leg up onto the seat between us, facing me fully. “Okay, so listen to the whole thing before you say no.”
This cannot be good.“I’m listening,” I sigh.
“You need a vacation.” Allie’s ponytail swings forward as she leans in to make her point. “Even if you won’t admit it out loud, I know you’re thinking it.”
That’s not what I’m thinking.I let the look on my face convey my opinion on that.
“Well, if you’re not, you should be,” Allie juts out her chin with a little attitude. “Remember all the good points we made about why you need to take a break? Will you please keep them in the forefront of your mind when I tell you this next part?”
“You haven’t told me any part yet,” I say, drily.
“Forefront, Devon.” She nods toward my forehead and begins ticking reasons off on her fingers. “You work too hard, you repeat your work, you don’t have good boundaries with your clients, you aren’t getting enough sleep, you’re working late every night,” she switches to the fingers on her other hand, “We miss you. And, and,” she tugs down on her index finger, emphasizing her seventh point, “you made me take a break earlier this year. So, now it’s your turn.”
I do as she asks and try to keep an open mind. My friends care about me, and they want me to take a break. They see me in ways I may not see myself.
“We found a way for you to have some time off of your regular work,” she continues. I trust my friends. “So, it’s like a vacation-ish, out of the house, sleeping in a different bed.” Today is Tuesday, so they’re probably expecting me to be off through Sunday. Almost an entire week. I could handle it if I had to, might be nice to work from a hotel room or something. Allie takes a deep breath, “And letting Bea handle all of your current projects by herself.”
My eyes meet Bea’s in her rearview mirror, and she nods, corroborating Allie’s words. She’s more than capable of handling most things that come up at Friday West. But everything, all at once? I wasn’t even capable of handling that by myself. It’s why I hired her in the first place.
“Stick with me, Dev,” Allie says, squeezing my hand across the seat. They want to help me. I try to focus on her earlier words, but more pressing thoughts keep winning out. I don’t need help. Allie leans forward, raising her brows. They’re trying to help because they care about me. But I didn’t ask for help. I give her the best smile I can manage. It’s not much. “You’re going to enjoy a beautiful desert landscape, look up at the stars, take naps, go on long walks.” I don’t like napping.
Bea’s tires hit a rock on the dirt road, sending us all bouncing up in the air, the lap restraint of my seatbelt pulling tight across my hips. What kind of rest is there off a bumpy dirt road? There aren’t any hotels or resorts out this far. Maybe a short-term rental? But there isn’t even a coffee shop for miles. My phone shows I’m down to two bars of reception. Is this place even going to have wi-fi?
“Can you stay off your phone please?” Allie scoffs.
“It’s time to get to the point.” My patience is slipping.
“So, you get to do all those things, rest and rejuvenate yourself, for two whole weeks.” Two weeks. That can’t be a coincidence— “But you also get to work. Just on something different,” Allie says. Thrill and dread battle in my stomach. Two weeks, and I’m working on something different? Naturally, it’s Rhett’s project. Why didn’t I figure this out sooner? “You can get your two weeks with Rhett out of the way. Work on his project—”
I’m done humoring them.“You three are driving me to the middle of nowhere,” I raise my hands up by my shoulders, looking out every window in turn at the admittedly stunning landscape. The orange light of the sun setting behind us shines on the low hills dotted with rocks, sagebrush, and Joshua trees. There is no sign of civilization, unless you count the road we’re on. Which I don’t. “I do not recognize this dirt road.” Allie tries to interject, but I’m not done. “You’re dropping me for two weeks to stay with a carpenter we barely know, in a house that may or may not exist? There’s nothing out here. Do you see a house? Any structures? I’m not even packed.” I slow my speaking, emphasizing each word of my final sentence. “This is not happening.”
“Remember all those things you’re supposed to have front of mind,” Allie says, placatingly.
“No.” I narrow my eyes at her in a glare.
She clenches her jaw, lowering her voice. “You pride yourself on being thorough and prepared, and most of the time you are both of those things. You excel at everything, fucking everything, and I adore you for it. But the cost of that excellence has gotten too high. Your whole business, the entire plan and structure for Friday West is built in a way that doesn’t allow you to take a break—ever.” To anyone else, the next thing she says wouldn’t be an impactful hit, maybe not a hit at all. But Allie understands me, and she phrases it in a way she knows I can’t ignore. “It’s a major flaw, Dev. Your plan doesn’t work.”
Her words hang heavily in the air around us. Sadie shifts awkwardly in her seat. Bea keeps her eyes trained on the road. Allie’s not an intimidating person, but there is a fire she brings out on very rare occasions, and when those times come around— even I don’t like to cross her. Usually. Tonight will be the exception.
“Pulling me out of work with no preparation is a plan that doesn’t work. This is a massive overstep, Al. You know better.” I turn to Bea. “Take me home.”
Bea continues driving. “It is prepared, though. I already have passwords for everything, including your email.” It’s easier for her to have access, but this is the first time I’m regretting that. “We’re two minutes away. Why not see his place, say hi to him, and then decide if you want to go home?”
My anger builds. “I’ve already decided.”
“One of the days is Labor Day, so you would’ve had that day off regardless,” Sadie says, sweetly.
This is getting tedious. “I work on bank holidays.”
“I packed your favorite pajamas,” she adds, like that’ll make this okay.
“That’s not a selling point. I can sleep in those at home. I will be sleeping in those at home. Tonight.”
Bea slows her car to a stop in the middle of the road and pushes the shifter to park. She unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to face me. “If you want me to take you home, I will.”
“Good, let’s—”
“But you’re making a mistake.” Bea’s words aren’t harsh. Her tone doesn’t even flirt with firm. She’s pure sincerity, kindness, gentleness. “This is barely a vacation. We just moved a project up on your timeline. If someone else had won that auction, you’d already have it on the schedule.”
My jaw clenches. “If someone else had won that auction, they wouldn’t have cornered me into spending two full weeks at their house with them.”
“Rhett’s not cornering you into anything,” Allie’s quick to contradict me. No, quick to defend him. “You agreed to stay with him, didn’t you?”
Barely. I don’t respond.
“It’s absolutely stunning, Dev. You’re going to love it here. He showed me pictures, and I thought it looked like a place where you would be happy. Where you could rest.” She points behind me, at the desert hills. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Yes,” I answer through gritted teeth.
“So, we’re just moving up the timeline,” Sadie adds. “He’s got work to do. He probably won’t even be here the whole time.” Oh, he’ll be here the whole time.
They’re doing this out of love. It’s meddling and invasive, but buried beneath those offenses, they have a couple good points. I do need to take a break, and at some point, I have to get Rhett’s project done. But the idea of taking two weeks off from my regular Friday West work when I’m on the verge of losing it is, frankly, terrifying.
Of course, none of them know about that—not even Bea. Only Rhett does. And now I have to spend two weeks alone with him in the middle of nowhere. What they don’t realize is they’re forcing me to face the thing I need a break from the most.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll see it.”
Bea shifts the car back into drive, and after two more minutes on the increasingly bumpy dirt road, she reaches a gate, which Sadie jumps out and swings open, closing it before we pull away. We follow the road around the base of a low hill, revealing the unmistakable shape of an Airstream trailer, the last light of the setting sun reflecting off the rounded silver top as Rhett swings open the long oval door. He steps down onto a small wooden staircase, wearing a gray t-shirt, torn jeans, a dark blue rangers baseball cap, and a self-satisfied smile.
“You thought a trailer was a stunning, beautiful place for me to rest?” I ask.
“Actually, I only saw pictures of the landscape,” Allie’s mouth pulls into a wide-mouthed, apologetic grin.
“Isn’t that the coolest option as far as trailers go?” Sadie asks. “I think it’s awesome.” Then you stay here.
Rhett opens my door the second Bea has the car in park.
“You have any trouble finding the place?” he asks as I ignore the hand he offers to help me out of the car and walk past him toward the trailer.
“Your directions were excellent,” Bea responds. All three of my friends start telling Rhett how beautiful the property is. It is stunning out here. Not a power line or a building in sight I think as I walk away to inspect my home for the next two weeks.
The trailer doesn’t look like it’s moved often. Bistro lights are strung up all the way around the perimeter of a wide paver-filled patio that more than triples the living space. There is a fire pit in the center, surrounded by Adirondack chairs, a large daybed, and a picnic table—presumably all crafted by Rhett. I resist the urge to inspect the details. The wooden staircase that leads up to the door is far sturdier than whatever came standard with the trailer, complete with a wooden handrail. And, as a finishing touch, there are two tacky, plastic pink flamingos standing sentry on either side of it.
“How long have you had it?” Sadie asks, her voice carrying over the short distance between the car and me.
“Bought it a few years back. Towed it out here from Texas right after New Year’s,” Rhett responds.
Crossing my arms, I lean back against the picnic table as I watch the sun disappear in the distance. Two weeks.
“Do you hate me?” Allie asks, stepping in close and speaking quietly enough that no one else can hear.
I take a deep, grounding breath. “Ask me again in the morning.”
She laughs and when she wraps her arm around me in a hug, I can’t help the little smile that curves on my lips.
“Where are her bags?” Rhett asks, followed by the sound of the trunk opening. This is really happening.
“Don’t pretend you’re not into him,” Allie whispers.
Should have known that just because I never told her about the night I almost hooked up with him didn’t mean I could hide the way I feel about him from her. Still, I deny it. “I don’t have to pretend.”
“Bullshit. You want him so bad.” Blessedly, she keeps her voice quiet. “I see the way you look at him.”
“How’s that?” My voice comes out sharp.
Allie tsks. “Like you want to kill him. None of that indifference you show to everyone else.”
I sigh.
“You know I’ll come get you, right?” Allie asks. “You change your mind, and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and be here.”
“I know.”