Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Molly
“Have I told you lately what a star you are?” Coco stops in front of my desk, perching half of her designer-suited butt on the corner.
Jason’s responding scoff is muted enough that I know Coco didn’t hear it. Jason and Maude have both made it clear that my getting Bobby’s contract is total bullshit in their eyes, and the contentious atmosphere this past week has been brutal. Coco may think she’s helping with this display of loyalty, but I fear it will only make things worse.
I send her a meaningful look that she pretends not to notice.
“We just officially acquired the contract for the Victorian on Newland.”
My responding smile is instantaneous. “That’s amazing!”
“And it’s all thanks to you. Niedermeyer and Associates tried swooping in, of course, but the owner and I had already established a rapport by then.” She returns to her feet and brushes the invisible wrinkles from her skirt. “Well, I have a lunch date, so I’ll be unavailable for the next two hours.” She winks at me. I swallow my laugh, and she sashays to the lobby where she stops to chat with P.J., our receptionist.
“Molly, I’ve been meaning to ask all morning. Did I see you arrive at work in a Cybertruck ?” Jason asks with a little too much interest for my comfort.
Shit. I square my shoulders and turn to face him. “Yes. I had an early appointment with a client.” It’s kind of true, isn’t it?
Maude’s responding laugh is unfriendly, at best. “Is that what we’re calling it now? At least it finally makes sense how you got his contract.”
I swivel the other way, intent on giving Maude a piece of my mind, but I force myself to stop. She wants me to react, and I refuse to give it to her. “I’m going to lunch,” I announce instead, opening the large bottom drawer of my desk to retrieve my bag. Neither Jason nor Maude comments. Good. They need to mind their own business.
It’s not until I’m out the door that I remember I have no car, so I’m forced to sneak back in and grab my packed lunch from the break room. I decide to make the three-block trek to the nearby park and eat there.
When I’m settled at a picnic table, I unpack my carrot sticks and hummus and pull out my phone. My first instinct is to call Ramona, but she’s at work at the hospital. I briefly consider calling Blake, but I don’t want him worrying about me. We’ve finally reached the point in our divorce where he’s gotten over his crushing guilt, and I don’t want him to think I’m struggling any more than he already suspects.
Not letting myself think too hard about it, I open Catnip, scroll to my chat with @ PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer and begin typing.
@singlemomcatlady: Please tell me your day is going better than mine.
The ellipses immediately appear, telling me he’s online.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Well, that depends. Did your boss almost murder you and your coworkers today?
I pop a carrot stick in my mouth with wide eyes.
@singlemomcatlady: You win. What happened? Did you do something to earn it or is your boss just a jerk?
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: He’s not so much a jerk. Just demanding, which is probably a good thing. He’s new and trying to make his mark. He and I don’t see eye-to-eye on some things.
@singlemomcatlady: Ah. I see. I lucked out in that department. My boss is fantastic. It’s my coworkers who aren’t so much.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: When my coworkers are being asses, I usually just tell them so. But our workplace is casual like that. I’m guessing that’s not an option for you?
I brush a curious ant from the wood picnic tabletop and dip another carrot in the hummus while I think about that for a second.
@singlemomcatlady: I don’t love conflict.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but I kind of can’t help speaking my mind most of the time.
@singlemomcatlady: You’ll probably live longer not bottling things up.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Tell that to my boss. And my therapist.
@singlemomcatlady: Therapy? That’s very evolved of you.
And so is admitting it freely to a stranger. I’m kind of impressed.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: What can I say? I’m trying.
If he’s being an open book, I suppose there’s no harm in reciprocating.
@singlemomcatlady: My ex and I did therapy. It was really helpful.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Not to be rude, but the word ex implies your therapist might not be so great at their job.
@singlemomcatlady: Haha. My ex and I are still good friends, and I think therapy made that possible.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Talk about evolved. A healthy relationship with an ex sounds like the height of maturity.
@singlemomcatlady: Well, we share a child, so there’s that. Also, neither of us cheated or anything.
I pause before deciding to hell with it and resuming typing.
@singlemomcatlady: He’s actually gay. That was the nail in the coffin.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: The therapist or the ex? Just kidding. That’ll do it almost every time.
That makes me laugh out loud, and I push my lunch aside so I can use both hands freely.
@singlemomcatlady: Right?
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: I think it’s cool, though, that you’re able to co-parent peacefully and still like each other.
@singlemomcatlady: Yeah. But it’s hard sometimes. You know, not having a partner anymore? We were together for fifteen years. Things started to get strained, and I had no idea what had changed. Then one day, I walked in the door from work and there he was at the kitchen table with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. I thought for a second that he was going to say we should clear the slate and start over, but as soon as I saw the look on his face, I knew it was over. Learning the reason why was almost a relief, you know?
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: I can see that for sure. I mean, knowing that you didn’t do anything wrong and there was nothing you could have done to save the relationship had to help.
@singlemomcatlady: Exactly. But he tortured himself for a long time, and I hated that.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Sounds difficult all around. I can see why you’re not ready to jump into another relationship.
@singlemomcatlady: I’m trying to get there, but I’m afraid of getting the rug pulled out from under me again, you know?
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Makes perfect sense to me. You’ll get there someday, though.
As strange as it may sound, having validation from a stranger outside the situation makes me feel a little lighter.
@singlemomcatlady: Enough about me. How are things with your coworker crush? Did she survive the boss’s murder spree?
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: She doesn’t work for him—she and I collaborate on more of a side project. I did make her laugh this morning, so that’s good, right?
@singlemomcatlady: Definitely. Women love it when guys make them laugh. Sometimes, it can be the most attractive trait in a man, but don’t tell anyone I clued you in. It’s one of our secrets.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Taking notes. What else?
I grin down at the screen while I type. I know Ramona would say I should flirt instead of helping him woo another woman, but I don’t care. I like talking to him.
@singlemomcatlady: Well, let’s see. We like it when you remember things we tell you, no matter how small or inconsequential they may seem. Oh, and good manners still go a long way.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Already ahead of you on the manners thing. My mom raised us the old-fashioned way.
@singlemomcatlady: That’s sweet. Unless, of course, you mean the *really* old-fashioned way.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Let’s just say that anytime I got a tap to the back of the head, I more than deserved it.
@singlemomcatlady: A wild child, huh?
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Hey, I’m working on it. Remember the therapist? She said I’m not even close to the worst she’s ever seen.
@singlemomcatlady: LOL. Thank god for mental healthcare.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Not that I’m a deviant or anything. Don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It’s just time to work on myself, better myself so I can be at my best for the people in my life, you know?
I find myself nodding.
@singlemomcatlady: Yeah. That’s really great.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Oops. Gotta run.
@singlemomcatlady: Your boss hunt you down?
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Something like that. Talk later.
I set the phone down and pack up my things, suddenly ready to take on the rest of the day. I’m even able to successfully ignore both Jason and Maude until they leave to meet clients.
P.J. brings me my Kia keys an hour later, saying a mechanic dropped them off and my car is out back. I dread seeing the total on that bill. Thankfully, I won’t need to pay it until Bobby buys a house.
My phone rings in the late afternoon, and I answer without checking the number. I curse myself when it turns out to be my dentist’s office reminding me that I’m late on this month’s installment for the crown I had to get a few months back. Those things are damn expensive for a little piece of porcelain, and my dental insurance through Farnsworth only covered a small portion of the bill.
I’ve been trying to pay it off, along with all my other bills, but things have been tight. Thus the reason my car never made it to the shop until Bobby interfered—something I can’t think about right now. I take a mental inventory of my checking account and credit card balance and promise the woman on the line that I’ll get the payment in this week.
Looks like the dishwasher repairs will be pushed off indefinitely.
I know my commission on Bobby’s contract might be bigger than all my previous commissions combined, but I don’t feel exactly right about it. It was Coco’s contract, not mine. And, although I may not love Jason or Maude, I can admit I’d probably be unhappy with the situation too, had our roles been reversed.
I honestly don’t know why he insisted on having me as his agent. Coco’s reasons are clear–and delusional. Bobby’s? Not so clear. I mean, he’s obviously a flirt and enjoys making me blush. Maybe it’s a narcissism thing?
No. I don’t think narcissists fix your car or give you rides to work or open doors for you. Dammit! I can’t think about this right now.
My phone rings again, and I start to think God is playing with me when I see it’s Matty’s school.
“Hello. Is this Ms. Sparks, Matthew’s mother?”
“Yes. Is everything okay?” I check my watch and see that it’s four-thirty. School ended an hour ago, and Matty should be home already.
“This is Mr. Finley, the vice principal.”
Shit. I drop my forehead into my hand. “Hello, Mr. Finley.”
“I’m afraid we had another incident today with Matthew, and he has been suspended for two days. It will be an in-school suspension starting tomorrow, and he will be unable to make up missed work for those days.”
Dammit! Matty’s grades aren’t bad, but this won’t help.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Finley. I’ve been trying to talk with him and get him into counseling. What exactly happened today?”
“There was an argument with another student, and one of the teachers witnessed Matthew pushing the other child into a locker with a good deal of force.”
Oh god. My head goes light. I have got to find out what is happening with my child!
“I am so sorry. I...I don’t know what to say except that I am determined to figure out what is causing this aggression.”
“Our guidance counselor did speak with both boys, but she said Matthew was tight-lipped about what preceded the incident. Perhaps you can get him to open up.” He sighs before continuing, “Look, Ms. Sparks, Matthew is a bright kid, and records from his elementary school show no behavioral issues. It’s important we get to the bottom of this so Matthew can return to his usual self. I’m a true believer that there are no bad kids, just bad behavior, and there’s usually a reason behind it.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you. I promise we’ll get to the bottom of it. Believe me, I want Matthew to be happy and well-adjusted more than anybody.”
“I believe you. I’ll have the guidance department get in touch. I’m sure they can be of help.”
“Okay. Thank you again. And I’ll keep you updated.”
“Sounds good.”
Mr. Finley hangs up, and I sit for a few long minutes staring blankly at my phone. Then I get my ass in gear and pack up my things before driving home.
I find Matty in his bedroom, lying on his stomach on the bed, homework spread out in front of him like he’s been innocently slaving away at it for hours. He’s certainly no dummy.
Forcing myself to take a cleansing breath, I approach the bed and take a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Mr. Finley called. Tell me what happened.”
Matty groans but he does turn to look at me, so it’s progress, I suppose. “Raiden was talking crap, and I didn’t want to listen to it.” A lock of hair falls in his eyes, and I have to stop myself from reaching over to tuck it back.
“So you shoved him into a locker? Matty, that is not okay.”
He stiffens and grits his teeth. “It’s Matthew .”
Right. “Matthew, that is not okay,” I repeat.
“I know, all right?!” His head whips back around, and he shoves his homework off the bed, the books thudding loudly on the floor.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I force a calm tone. “What did Raiden say to you?” So help me god, this Raiden kid might have more to worry about than my son if my current suspicions are valid.
Matty’s response comes quickly. A little too quickly. “Nothing! It doesn’t matter. I got suspended and it’s over.”
“Matthew,” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Besides, Mr. Rhodes said you’ve got to pay people back when they’re rude. That’s all I was doing!”
My chin shifts back. “Wait. What? Mr. Rhodes, as in Bobby Rhodes?”
“Yeah.” Matty glances back at me again.
“Bobby Rhodes told you that you’ve got to pay people back when they’re rude?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I draw in a slow breath through my nostrils, my hands twitching in my lap while I fight the urge to hunt the man down and strangle him. So much for nonviolence being the answer!
Fucking. Bobby.
He’s not a narcissist. He’s nothing but a spoiled child .