25. Jenna
JENNA
Y es, the showers in the Prism office are for bikers, but, like, it’s an emergency, okay?
“I didn’t know you rode bikes. Do you wear one of those cute little stretchy outfits?”
I bite back a yelp as Stu, Bethany’s husband, surprises me outside the bathrooms.
What the hell?
He doesn’t move. To scoot past him, I’d have to brush up against his belly. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I wish McCarthy were here.
“Does Bethany need something?” I finally ask.
“Oh no.” He chortles, like it’s perfectly normal to surprise your wife’s employee coming out of the locker room. “Just wanted to make sure you’re hanging in there. I know Bethany’s been a little difficult lately with the pregnancy and all. ”
“Yeah, big change,” I say weakly.
“A few more months, then I’m a dad to a little girl.”
God help us.
He nudges me playfully.
“I’m trying to convince Bethany to name her Jennifer.”
“Right.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Jennifer’s a great name! Well, I have to go to a meeting…”
He finally lets me past.
Hannah’s commandeered an out-of-the-way conference room for us and bought pizza and pasta from the Italian place down the street.
“Hopefully it’s not too early for pizza.” She slides a box to me.
I open up the two-liter of Diet Coke, pour most of it into my Stanley cup, and take a long sip.
“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.” I take a big bite of a gooey pepperoni slice.
“Bring up the first victim—I mean, who’s the lucky winner to be McCarthy’s one true love?” Hannah clicks the remote with a flourish.
“One true love?” I swallow hard, the soda acidic. “It’s just a fake date; he’s not marrying one of these girls. He promised.”
Hannah gives me a weird look.
The lineup of pretty young women appears on the big TV screen, along with names, ages, and interests.
“Stanford master’s degree in astrophysics.
Miss Washington. This girl worked at Buckingham Palace for eight months.
” Hannah marvels at their details. “How are these girls all under twenty-three? When we were that age, we were arguing on Tumblr about the various merits of Dramione fan fiction and impulse buying inflatable unicorn costumes on Amazon. How do they have their lives so together? Also, their skin is, like, amazing.”
“It’s not even Photoshop. I’ve met them in person,” I croak. “Their skin is literally that flawless.” The pizza is no longer giving me warm fuzzy feelings. I set down my slice.
“I bet none of these girls eats pizza for breakfast,” Hannah adds.
I’m good at my job. I know I keep saying it, and I know it doesn’t look like it, but I am.
And these girls? The ones I’ve chosen? They are all perfect for McCarthy.
I interviewed them myself. They are the right blend of pliable yet interesting.
They’re all pretty and athletic, and their coloring will match McCarthy’s cool undertones.
They’ll look amazing together in photos.
Any one of them could be his perfect woman.
Because they look nothing like me.
Because they aren’t going to squat in his car or leave their shit all over his house so he has to dump it in front of said car.
McCarthy’s not going to taunt them with ex-boyfriends during meetings, since all of the girls are too young to have a messy dating history. Also, they won’t even have meetings because their lives aren’t already overly enmeshed.
The tears threaten to start.
I think about the horror on his face when he thought he’d hurt me, the way he cupped my face, searching my eyes.
Is there something there?
Only Jenna losing her mind.
“Definitely too early for pizza.” I grab a napkin that smells like grease and blow my nose .
“Jenna!” Hannah cries, wrapping me in a hug. “You don’t wish it was you dating McCarthy, do you? I know how you fall for guys too hard too soon.”
“Way to call out your best friend.”
“It makes you charming and empathetic. Also, I live for the messy stories.”
“I’m not,” I protest as Hannah hands me my cup of sugary soda. “I slept in his car last night, and he found out, and it was awful.”
“See? That’s the Jenna mess I live for. Sleeping in the car of a guy you’re not even dating? That’s a new low for you.”
“I am dating. Not McCarthy,” I add hastily. “I’m going to find another guy.”
“To live with and mooch off of?”
“No, to fall in love with and marry and have a stable marriage where we both die in each other’s arms in our nineties.”
“And you think you’re going to find him online?”
The Meat Market dating app pings.
“Look, found one!” We peer at the notification. The guy has a nice, almost-familiar face. He’s older and bearded, but hey, beggars living in their clients’ cars can’t be choosers.
“He wants to meet for dinner.”
“Why do I feel like I’ve seen him before?” Hannah squints.
“Maybe he was someone’s date to a work function?”
“We haven’t worked with him before. At least I haven’t.”
“I’m lining up another date after it just to make sure,” I promise. I swipe right on another picture, this one of a younger guy. “One for drinks and apps, one for dinner. ”
Hannah bows. “Teach me your ways, master. We are not worthy. We better check that he’s actually single, because no one is more single than a man in an unhappy relationship.”
I wipe at my eyes. “I don’t actually need either to be single.”
“Ooof, Jenna…”
“No, not like that! I’m dating him because of McCarthy.”
“This is healthy…”
“I need to get him out of the house, and this is the only way.”
Jenna: Got a date tonight! He’s amazing. And we’re already hitting it off.
Jenna: Will be out of your car soon! *kissy face emoji*
McCarthy: …
Suck it, Bethany. I do know how to manage a difficult man.
Yes, I lied to McCarthy. There was no way he was going to show up to a blind date.
And if maybe I find the love of my life and don’t have to sleep in McCarthy’s car anymore? Even better! Because I mean, yeah, what am I going to do when I’m on my period?
From Cher, Zephyr and Granny Mavis drop off more of my clothes that afternoon, along with loaves of fresh-baked spelt bread, mead, and goat cheese.
I’m ballin’.
I’m freshly showered and shaved and have my glass of wine as I sit looking cute at the bar. The gay bartender gives me an approving nod and tells me he likes my shoes .
He does side-eye my Stanley cup.
No, I didn’t bring that purse. I took it to a consignment shop. As soon as that thing sells, I’m moving into a hotel.
McCarthy’s right. Nathan never bought me a purse or anything nice. Maybe I should keep it… Maybe this is the last time a guy ever buys me a present.
I will not give in to negative thoughts.
My date’s not here, but that’s by design. McCarthy has to be managed first, then I’ll sort out my housing situation.
The CEO blows into the restaurant. Both my new bartender bestie and I watch appreciatively.
McCarthy pulls up short in front of me and looks me up and down.
I raise my glass at him. “Gotcha!”
“Where is he? I bet he’s one of your exes.” McCarthy grabs my arm. “Just admit it. Admit you were wrong.”
“I believe you actually wanted me to get on my knees and beg?” I sip my wine.
The hostess smiles at me as she heads toward us.
“Here we go!”
McCarthy turns as the hostess leads a pretty young woman with a model-esque walk over to the bar.
“This is Juniper.” I introduce the young woman to McCarthy.
The corners of his mouth curl down slightly.
“She does art therapy for traumatized children.”
“So you just take corporations’ money and don’t actually help children. Bartender.” He signals. “Can I get a scotch, neat?”
“Which bottle, sir?” The bartender starts trying to upsell McCarthy, and McCarthy lets him so he can fully ignore his date .
Great.
Juniper blinks her long lashes at me. She is pretty. She’s what I have always aspired to be.
She also has the mean-girl smile and dismissive look down pat—you know, the one where her eyes flick from your blowout that you did in the work bathroom to your thrifted shoes then back up with a perky jaunt of her head?
Yeah.
“Usually, the assistants try to score the billionaires for themselves.” She laughs through her nose. “Guess he rejected you?”
“I’m not an assistant. I work in PR, you know, being paid for my expertise.”
“Wow, a nine-to-five, hm? Well, I want to actually be a mom before I’m your age, so I treat dating like my full-time job.” She smirks at me. “And you know, taking care of myself.”
McCarthy turns, pricey scotch in hand.
“On that note, enjoy your date, kids!” I clap my hands.
“This place is vegan,” he hisses to me.
I pinch his arm. “It won’t kill you to eat some lettuce.”
“You’re coming with me to get steak after this,” he whispers, then, chameleon-like, his whole demeanor switches when Juniper trails a perfectly manicured finger up his arm.
“I’ve been vegan for years, but you might be the man who inspires me to put a piece of meat in my mouth.”
McCarthy seems intrigued. Lust at first sight?
He doesn’t look over at me once as he leads Juniper to a table.
“Good.” I drain the rest of my wine. “Maybe I can cross this off my list. ”
A clammy hand rests on my shoulder when I’m accepting another glass from the bartender.
“Jenna?”
“Oh shit.” I gape at the older man in front of me.
“I thought that was you.” He chortles then rubs his clean-shaven face. “I shaved off my beard. Actually, my little girl got gum in it. Bet I look more like you remember me now, huh?” He grins.
When I’m too frozen to spin away, he leans in to plant a wet, sucking kiss on my cheek.
My ex-stepdad, a.k.a Mom’s fifteenth boyfriend, give or take, from when I was in high school, reaches out to wipe at my cheek with a laugh.
“I always thought you were hot.” He rubs my upper arm. “You really did grow up,” he says appreciatively. “I knew there was something there between us, some spark, and then you swiped on me on the Meat Market app.” Another sly grin.