Chapter Eighteen #2
Once safely in the mudroom of the Lawsons’ brownstone, Cierra pulled off her sneakers and took a moment to breathe.
Upon looking at her dripping grayish-brown socks that were white when she had put them on, she opted to take those off as well.
Cierra let herself in and found Zelda in the living room, deeply reclined into an over-sized couch, staring at the ceiling, or maybe nothing at all.
“Did you bring the goods?” Zelda asked in a monotone voice, without taking her eyes off the ceiling.
“It might be a little wet, but yes. Got it all right here. Even grabbed some pastries.”
Zelda didn’t seem to notice Cierra’s drenched clothes or labored breathing. “Thank God, at least one thing is going right today.” As she took a sip, her lip gloss left a sticky pinkish imprint on the cup’s lid.
She frowned at her latte. “This tastes like pure milk. Did they even bother adding any espresso?” She looked disgusted but continued sipping.
“Christ, I’m gonna have to make my own fucking coffee now.
Anyway . . .” She focused back on Cierra, smiling the way Cierra had seen her before addressing a crowd.
“Thanks for coming. I know we were supposed to wait until later, but I’ve been thinking about this event nonstop and realized we have a lot to go over. ”
Cierra pulled out her notes app and tried her best to jot down the various points Zelda was making, but it was difficult.
Her boss rapidly switched from worrying about different guests, to the weather, to dietary restrictions, to other details that didn’t seem to require an emergency meeting on a rainy Wednesday morning.
And the more Zelda talked, the more it became apparent she just needed to vent.
Cierra nodded along with appropriate timing while Zelda rambled on.
She was in a plain black button up and acid-wash jeans, and a couple of violet strands had made their way out of her make-shift bun.
With hardly any make-up on, she looked younger, Cierra thought, and wondered what her boss would look like with regular colored hair.
What about a rich chocolate brown? Did she hold on to her hair as a sign of resistance from her youth?
Or was she signaling to others that she had an edge, and that losing it would be like losing a superpower?
“. . . and anyway, it’s not like half the people are gonna be eating anyway, now that they’re all on the magic weight-loss shots,” Cierra heard Zelda say, throwing her hands up in exhaustion.
“Tell me, are you worried about the future of the culinary industry, now that there seems to be a war launched on eating?”
Cierra squinted her eyes, trying her best to seem like she took the inquiry seriously, although she was fairly certain that Zelda didn’t know the first thing about what real people went through when it came to weight management; it’s not like everyone had a private chef meal prepping for them.
She opened her mouth, hoping that something would come to her, but when Zelda got into these moods, discerning which response was going to appease or trigger her even further was a gamble.
“Um, well . . . no?”
“Hm, well, I guess you kind of have to think that way. You know, self-preservation and all that.”
“Sure . . .” Cierra said, before setting her phone down and looking more directly at her boss, whose bloodshot eyes were shadowed with light purple crescents underneath them. What’s up with this woman today?
“Are you feeling all right?” Cierra asked, her tone revealing more annoyance than she intended.
“Why would you ask that?” Zelda shot back quickly, “Do I seem not okay to you?”
“You’re right, sorry,” Cierra replied. She went to pick her phone up again, the ends of her hair still dripping onto her shirt, which Zelda noticed for the first time.
“No, no, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Zelda got up, haphazardly tossing the little blue pillow that had been on her lap back onto the couch, and began pacing on the hand-woven area rug. She dragged a hand through her hair and then raised her arms high above her head in a yoga pose.
“You know, I don’t even like apps,” Zelda said matter-of-factly, and completely off-topic.
“That’s interesting. So then why do you—”
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing.
Like, Zelda, what are you doing? Hello!” She started laughing.
“It’s like one day, I’m making my clothes and doing my thing .
. . and now I’m going to North Carolina to talk to investors.
Like any of them need an extra vacation.
” She took a sip of her coffee, which was no doubt cold by now.
“Why do I need to keep begging people for money? It’s so exhausting.
You know, I haven’t designed anything in over four years?
When I first assumed the role of CEO, I was still sketching here and there, but now .
. . nothing but meetings. Oh! Look at us!
We found a way to streamline, to create synergy.
I don’t think anyone knows what that word means, by the way. ”
Cierra had done her best attempt at active listening, but she felt like she was watching something that wasn’t for her eyes. It was also difficult to track any kind of logic.
“Don’t you like being CEO? I guess I’m just a little surprised. I mean, you seem really passionate about it.”
“I do like it. Did like it. I don’t know.
Some days I see myself posted somewhere and think, damn, you really did it.
You know? But then I have mornings like this, where all I want is to be back in my studio apartment in Seattle.
No meetings or investors or responsibilities. Just me, Elliot, and my fabrics.”
Cierra sat quietly, waiting to see if Zelda would go on before saying anything else.
“So, what keeps you going, then?” she asked finally. After all, it’s not like anyone just fell into running a start-up valued at millions of dollars.
“Hmm,” Zelda pondered. “I don’t know, the reason any of us do anything?
It feels good to be recognized. I thought, I’m not sure .
. . it’s like I thought if I reached a certain point I’d have ‘done it.’ Reached my full potential or whatever.
But,” she said dramatically as she slapped her legs and stood up, “that’s a myth.
And if this weekend doesn’t go as smoothly as possible, I’m going to have a lot of angry investors out millions.
And I don’t feel like getting sued. So . . .”
She was back in business mode. “Let’s make sure it goes off without a hitch, okay?”
Cierra smiled at her boss. She knew the vulnerable moment had passed but wanted Zelda to feel comfortable all the same.
“I know I only started working for you a few months ago, but I see the way your employees — hell, even the way your other co-founders — look to you. Everyone wants to be you. Or at least, to impress you. Including me, even. I know this trip is high stakes, but you have a great team . . . and you’ll have amazing food, I promise you that.
You’re gonna crush this. There’s no way this summit won’t be a success with you in charge. ”
Zelda laughed. “You’re a good person. Even if you’re a suck-up.”
“Thanks,” Cierra said, rolling her eyes. The moment was definitely gone. “Do you feel a little better?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” She winked at Cierra with a sheepish grin. “Thank you.”
At that moment, a rustling noise coming from the basement diverted the attention of the women.
Erik came walking up the stairs, carrying a small cardboard box and a backpack.
He must have hurried to move out, Cierra assumed.
Her brief sense of relief at the thought of not having to see him every day was quickly followed up with melancholy.
They had grown close over the summer, and often his warm, steady company had helped pass the time.
The thought of being in the Lawsons’ home without him felt like visiting an old school — where a place of comfort had now become lonely.
“Who’s feeling better?” he asked, and then paused slightly when he saw Cierra, equally surprised to see her there.
“Cierra’s just listening to me whine about the summit,” Zelda said, patting Cierra on the shoulder and standing up.
She looked outside, where in the past hour it had gotten brighter.
The storm had passed as quickly as it had come.
“I think I’m going to go on a walk before getting back to work. Thanks for coming over, Cierra.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Cierra said, hurriedly getting her things together.
“Oh, no need to rush,” Zelda said, slipping on her alien-looking sandal sneakers. “Besides, I think your socks are still soaked. Feel free to borrow a pair of mine.”
In a low voice, Erik said, “I was actually wondering if I could talk to you?” Before she could protest, Zelda was calling out goodbye, leaving Cierra alone with Erik in the spacious living room. Her departure was so sudden that it almost felt like she’d left them alone together on purpose.
Cierra tilted her head to the side and bit the corner of her mouth. Erik was wearing a light blue T-shirt and funky athletic shorts — shorter than maybe the average pair. Being unsupervised with him felt . . . precarious. Erik Lawson was not safe for work.
“Hey, Erik,” she said, as if nothing was amiss.
“Hey, Cierra.”
“What’s up?”
“Well, we haven’t really talked since last weekend.”
“Sure we have. We were just talking, like, yesterday.”
At this point, Cierra and Erik were now in a couple of different group chats together, and out of habit, were still sending each other videos on social media, but without the normal daily banter surrounding them.
Especially since her date with Julian, Cierra was being more avoidant.
She didn’t want to stop being friends (or whatever they were) with Erik, but how was she supposed to tell Erik about her resuming things with Julian?
Maybe he wouldn’t care, but it was awkward all the same.
“You know what I mean, Cierra. We haven’t talked about us sleeping together.”
When he raised the issue she had been so deliberately ignoring, she felt a sudden jolt. Like she had jumped into an icy pool.
He searched Cierra’s face for answers while she thought about what she was going to do next. Why was he pressing this issue? To make her feel worse than she already did?
“I don’t know what there is to say, really. Is there something that’s been on your mind?”
He narrowed his eyes and put his hands in his pockets. “It feels like . . . you’ve been avoiding me? I know you don’t want anything serious, but are you sure we’re okay? I feel like something’s different.”
It struck her as odd that Erik was suggesting she was the one who wouldn’t want anything serious. As if Erik . . . did? But that didn’t matter, because she needed to keep this job until the end of summer. And things were different: She was with Julian now. Focus, she told herself.
“I do feel weird about it . . . and it’s fresh. I just need a week or two. And . . .” She took a breath, knowing that she needed to get it out sooner rather than later. “And Julian and I are back together.”
“Oh,” he said, putting a hand behind his neck. “I . . . was not expecting to hear that.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t still, you know, be friends. I just need some time to—” Cierra paused, feeling herself getting a little flushed. “I just feel like kind of a mess right now?”
“Okay, well . . .” His eyes scrunched, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Thanks for letting me know about you and Julian. Glad you guys worked it out.”
“Thanks,” she said, even though she didn’t like that answer. Not that she had a right to care about Erik’s reaction toward her relationship status.
Focus.
“Are you going to be at Mia’s birthday?”
“Yeah, still planning on it. Randy’s coming too.”
“Cool, then I’ll see you there. Mia will be stoked you two will be there.”
“Great.”
“Yeah.”
With nothing left to say, Cierra gave a polite smile before gathering her things again, this time putting on the moist socks without hesitation. A fitting end to possibly one of the most uncomfortable conversations she’d ever had.
There was no telling how she and Erik were realistically going to manage their friendship going forward — they both knew that.
But she needed to keep herself on track.
Julian had opened his heart to her and was making genuine changes.
And she was really into him. Maybe even falling for him.
Entertaining this thing she had with Erik was only going to get in the way.
There were only four weeks left until the end of her contract with the Lawsons. Four weeks until she could send her sister the last of the overdue loan payments, and the guilt of putting Lisa in an awful position could finally lift off her shoulders. She just had to make it. Four. More. Weeks.
But seeing Erik again, even his way of handling things and his valuing of her privacy, reminded her of why they became friends. Why she’d been so drawn to him that night in the Catskills. He made her feel safe, like she could let down every wall and just exist as herself in his company.
“I’ll see you,” she said, before heading out into the street, now filled with couples enjoying the sunshine.