Chapter 12
“The book can’t be set anywhere else. It needs to be California and it needs to be a more sleepy, less populated area of California. You’ll see why later,” Kari said to me on the phone the next day at work. She’d called me almost immediately when I sat down at my desk, iced tea in hand.
“I trust you,” I said. “Maybe do some more Google Earth searches, then, because I want to feel like I’m there but I don’t.”
“Have you been to Paso Robles before? Near the central coast?” she asked. “It’s wine country, but the place I’m setting it is just outside there but similar terrain: rolling hills and farmland.”
“I haven’t,” I said. “I’m a Southern California girl. You should book a flight. It’s a good excuse for a vacation.”
“I wish I could. I don’t have the time right now. Maybe this summer. My son is about to graduate and it’s all-consuming.”
“Congratulations! I didn’t realize Bryce had gotten so old. I swear he was a freshman yesterday.”
“You’re telling me,” she said.
“This summer works. You have time to get it right.”
“If I can get Rob’s eyes on this, I don’t want him to have any excuse not to love it. I’ll work on setting. And, Margot, thanks for the suggestion. You’re not wrong.”
“No problem.” I woke up my sleeping computer. “Do you have more pages for me? I’d love to read more. It really is amazing, Kari.”
“Let me apply your notes to the next section so you can tell me if I’m succeeding, and I’ll send it soon.”
“Sounds good.” I hung up the office phone, then checked my cell phone. No notifications or texts. Not even from Oliver. A tinge of disappointment settled in my chest and I tried not to read into it. We’d decided we were hopeless, after all.
I got to work on my daily tasks. They seemed more mind-numbing, more tedious than they ever had before. Now that my goal was in reach, it was hard to focus on building someone else’s business. I was ready to get to work on my own.
It felt like I had been in the office all day when the bell on the front door jingled at ten A.M. I looked up to see Rob walking in. It was the first time he’d been in this week, and by the way he avoided my eyes, I could tell he wouldn’t be in long today.
Following close behind him was Rebecca. They rarely arrived to work at the same time.
Had someone asked me if they were close, or even friends, before today I would’ve said, No, just business partners.
But there was something about the way she looked at him, about the way her hand brushed along his arm as he held the door open for her, that made my stomach lurch.
He said something under his breath and she laughed.
Not some polite chuckle or airy sound of amusement but a full-on laugh.
They both practically floated through the lobby.
The only form of acknowledgment was a nod from Rebecca in my direction.
I froze, staring after them. Was I being paranoid?
They were coworkers, after all. Maybe they’d almost hit each other in the parking lot or run into each other at the coffee shop and were recounting the story.
Or maybe Rob is screwing her too.
Those words came to me in Sloane’s voice, but my brain had come up with them all on its own.
Just because I thought the words didn’t make them true.
It wasn’t that I was jealous. I actually found I wasn’t.
At all. But I was worried. Had Rebecca told him about the meeting?
What kind of support would she give me Friday if Rob had prepped her with his opinion?
I scooped up my purse from beneath my desk and carried it outside, freeing my phone and dialing a number while I did.
“Go for Sloane,” she said, answering.
“You’re a dork.”
“I should answer my office phone like that.”
I stepped around our brick building and leaned against the wall. “You really shouldn’t.”
“Guess what happened today?” she said.
“What?”
“My favorite director is interested in one of my scripts.”
“Cindy Farrow?” She’d only talked about wanting to attach her to one of the scripts she repped for years.
“Yes!”
“That’s amazing!”
“Wait, you called me,” she said. “What’s your news?”
I looked over my shoulder even though I knew nobody had followed me outside. “I think Rob is sleeping with Rebecca.”
She gasped audibly. “I thought she was married.”
“She is,” I said.
“That asshole. Did you catch them doing something?”
“Walking into the office laughing together.”
There was silence. “Tell me that’s not the end of your sentence.”
“There was a vibe.”
“You’re projecting.”
“There was a shared look.”
“You’re overreaching.”
“There was a lingering arm brush.”
“Margot, you’re killing me.”
“Should I tell her never mind about backing me up Friday? Should I ask Mr. Maxwell instead?” A car passed by the street to my right, its radio blaring.
“Crusty Maxwell? Isn’t that what you call him?”
“Only behind his back!” His name was Dusty Maxwell and he was really old, like, he should’ve retired twenty-five years ago old, so it made sense.
“You will not ask Crusty Maxwell, who only reps nonfiction. And you will take a deep breath and start putting positive vibes into the universe. All this negativity is going to make the universe angry. It’s going to grant your wish to fail.”
“I don’t wish to fail.” I closed my eyes, the brick wall behind me rubbing against the back of my arm.
“That’s not what you’re telling the universe.”
She was right. If the power of positive thinking was real, the power of negative thinking was too. I squared my shoulders and opened my eyes. “Okay, positive thoughts starting now.”
“Not just positive thoughts; you need positive actions to undo this damage.”
“Okay… let’s do a celebratory lunch after my meeting and subsequent promotion to agent on Friday.”
“Better! Yes, do that.”
“Put it on your schedule.”
“Oh, you meant with me?” she said. “Sorry, I’m out on Friday. I have a meeting with the previously mentioned director.”
“You suck.”
“But I’ll get together a group for Friday night at Pinky’s.”
Pinky’s was our favorite bar that often hosted karaoke and trivia nights and poetry slams. It was where we went when Cheryl got engaged and when Laurel broke up with her boyfriend. It was our celebration spot.
“Deal,” I said.
“You should double up on positivity, though, and go out for a celebratory lunch as well. I’m sure you can think of someone who would be willing to celebrate with you.”
Oliver’s face immediately came to my mind. I knew that was who Sloane was implying I ask as well.
“You’re right,” I said. “It’s time to defuse the three-year bomb. My brain has been building up our car makeout into far more than it was, I’m sure of it.”
“So you’ll make out with him again to test this theory?”
I laughed. “It wouldn’t hurt. I mean, the best celebrations involve makeouts, right?”
“Maybe it won’t be as awkward this time and you’ll see that you have both chemistry and compatibility. The perfect combination.”
I rolled my eyes. “We don’t. He’s too uptight for me, I think.”
“Opposites attract?”
“Too regimented.” I shifted on my feet and almost stepped on a piece of chewed-up gum on the asphalt.
“Maybe that’s why he’s so good with his hands,” she said. “His regimented study of the art of sex.”
I gave a sarcastic laugh. “You really want the universe to deliver me everything on Friday. The perfect job, the perfect man.”
“So you admit Oliver is the perfect man?”
“Stop,” I said.
“If you had met him in any other way but on the apps, you would be giving him a real chance.”
“I gave him a chance!”
“ Past Margot gave him a chance.”
“I would trust Past Margot with my life.”
“Fine, fine. Keep looking for your meet-cute, and in the meantime, get yourself a fun makeout partner because, yes, I do want the universe to deliver you everything. You deserve it. Do you hear that, Universe?” Sloane yelled. “It’s the era of Margot!”
“Are you alone at work today?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “And my coworkers agree.”
I heard a couple whoops ring out behind her.
Then she repeated, “The era of Margot.”
The era of Margot. The era of Margot.
I had repeated that phrase multiple times throughout the day. And now, home again, changing out of my work attire and into my lounge attire, I repeated it again, hyping myself up for the phone call I was about to make.
Positive vibes. “I’m going to celebrate big-time on Friday, Universe, because I’m getting this promotion,” I said out loud.
I didn’t know why I was nervous to call Oliver.
Maybe it was just that I was proposing a change in our dynamic.
We hadn’t tried to meet each other again for three years.
He had been on the same date I was; what made me think Oliver even wanted to hang out?
I had my complaints about him, but I was sure he had some about me too.
After all, he’d had every opportunity to initiate something like this. He hadn’t.
I moved the stack of clothes off the overstuffed chair in the corner of my room and onto my bed and took a seat. These weren’t positive thoughts. These were the exact opposite.
I shook out my hands but my nerves stayed firmly intact. I pushed the call button next to his name and held my breath. His phone rang several times before it went to voicemail. I disconnected the call and typed out a text instead. I need a midday celebration partner Friday. You in?
I paced my bedroom for several lengths, then picked up the book on my nightstand and carried it back to the chair. I turned to my spot near the back and read the same line a dozen times but still had no idea what I’d read.
“Lord Leopold, do your job,” I muttered to my book.
My phone buzzed from where it had settled between my thigh and the chair and I let out a surprised yelp. In my attempt to pick it up, my book tumbled to the floor. “Hello,” I answered as I scrambled to rescue the lord from his page-bending, open-faced landing.
“Hi,” the deep voice of Oliver sounded. “You okay?”
That was the second time he’d sensed my distraction from just my voice. “Fine, yes, just dropped my book, hello.”
He chuckled. “I got your text. What are we celebrating?”
“Does that make a difference?” I asked, curious.
“Sure. Puppy murder, house fires, cavities. Out. Anything else, probably in.”
I laughed, but responded, “Cavities are on the same level as puppy murder and house fires?”
“I didn’t rank them.”
I pulled my feet up onto the chair with me, my nerves from before squelched. My eyes narrowed in on my work shoes, laying sideways by the bed where I had just discarded them. “Shit. I stepped in gum earlier.”
“That doesn’t seem like something to celebrate.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll have to find someone else to celebrate with me.”
“I hear ice and/or peanut butter works for removing gum.”
“Did you minor in gum-removing techniques in college?”
“Yes, UCLA is known for that program.”
“You went to UCLA? My sister went there. Maybe you knew her,” I deadpanned. “You probably ran together.”
“It’s true, all the people who ran at UCLA knew each other,” he said, returning my sarcasm.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Oh, and real celebration: I’m getting my dream job on Friday! Apparently, the universe requires positive energy or it takes things away… according to Sloane.”
“You did it? You faced your fear?”
I had forgotten I’d told him about being afraid to go after the promotion. “Almost. Friday.”
“This is way better than animal cruelty or house fires.”
“What about cavities?”
“Slightly better than cavities.”
I laughed but then realized he hadn’t actually committed to lunch. “So? Can you come celebrate with me then? Friday. Noonish?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Okay, cool.”
“Margot?” he said.
“Yes?”
“I’m excited to see you again. Finally.”
My heart galloped to life in my chest. “Me too.”