Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Naomi tapped the taco emoji a half dozen times and then sent the message to Abby.
ABBY: I’m leaving right now! I’m going to need an extra-large margarita. Becca is blaming me for not fixing her marriage.
This time Naomi went with a long string of drooling emojis.
ABBY: Are you too hungry to communicate with words?
A line of one hundred emojis rounded out the conversation.
Except Naomi wasn’t hungry at all.
She was too nervous to be hungry. Too nervous to type out full sentences. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that tonight was the last night of The Plan.
The Plan.
Riley had brought it up repeatedly since first suggesting that they should intervene in Abby and Freya’s relationship, if it could even be called that.
But when the talk never evolved into anything remotely concrete, she started to think maybe Riley had forgotten.
And then, a little over a week ago, Riley and Will had appeared at her door, arm in arm with tipsy smiles and unsteady steps.
She knew that Will and Riley had been forming a friendship that existed outside of the friend group but until that moment, she hadn’t realized it was already at the point of drunken, late-night schemes.
“We commence Friday!” Will had declared.
“Commence what? What are you two up to?” she asked.
“The Plan,” Riley said ominously. “With Abby. And Freya. And …” They finished their sentence by sticking out their tongue and emulating a very messy make-out session.
For the next half an hour, the two of them stumbled over each other to explain The Plan, which involved an actual, well, plan, including set dates, times, and even a script.
The Plan made her anxious. She wasn’t good at lying.
She wasn’t good at acting. She wasn’t good at keeping secrets.
She had struggled enough trying to keep quiet about Simon—although lately, he had made that a lot easier.
Since Rosh Hashanah, he had disappeared.
Despite saying he wouldn't give up, she hadn't received so much as an errant text message.
As the weeks passed and still no word from him, she found herself becoming more comfortable in her relationship with Will and her decision to leave Simon out of it.
The future with Will was bright, perhaps infused with the sparkle from an engagement ring somewhere down the line, and darkening it with problems from her past would serve no purpose except to hurt Will.
Of course, that bright future would be even brighter if it wasn't constantly interrupted by his boss and her best friend fighting like two beta fish dropped in the same tank.
Which is why she had continued to go through with The Plan, which Will and Riley had separately, and then together in her apartment, assured her would be quick, painless, and with no bad outcomes.
Despite her reservations, last Friday night, she and Will and Riley and Becca had all gone to the WNO Tower under the guise of a spontaneous tour of Nightly Global News.
Freya had been there, working late as Will said she would be, and after saying hello to her, they had walked into the recording studio where the news anchors sit and put on a performance that was “accidentally” piped into Freya’s office.
“That woman is smitten beyond belief,” Riley had said, midway through the script they had taught to the rest of the group as if they were passing down an ancient folktale. “I’m not the only one who has noticed this—ask her best friend and her sister.”
Becca had even participated, saying that anything to do with Abby made her feel better about her own life.
“Totally. Abby’s been acting weird lately.
Weirder than usual. For her,” Becca had recited, going occasionally off script to throw a few extra digs at her sister.
“Not eating, not sleeping, looking like she belonged on the set of a post-apocalyptic movie.”
“Sure,” Will had replied on cue. “That could be for a lot of reasons.”
“True,” came Becca’s line. “Except Naomi and I asked her about it one night. Didn’t we, Naomi?”
Her mouth had gone dry as everyone turned to her, expecting her to say her part.
“She confessed the whole thing,” she managed, desperately trying not to look at the red light on the camera that threatened to unravel what little nerve she had left.
“That she was madly in love with Freya and couldn’t think of anyone else. ”
With Part One of The Plan completed, now it was time for Part Two: Abby’s Pocket Dial.
It was simple enough. Unlike with Freya, she didn’t have any lines.
In fact, she didn’t have to do much, really.
She only had to go out to dinner with Abby and make sure she answered her phone when The Pocket Dial from Will, Riley, and Becca came in.
There were only two small flaws in the plan:
A) She wasn’t good at lying, acting, or keeping secrets
B) Abby could read her like Neo could read the Matrix
She saved the Excel sheet she had been working on and stood up from her desk, affording herself a full-length stretch before walking out of her office. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps into the hallway before her phone rang.
“Are you prepared?” Riley said when she answered.
“You made me practice for two hours last night.” She grabbed her coat from the closet in the lobby and headed to the elevator.
“Considering my job is to go to a restaurant, I’d say I’m over-prepared.
You’re the one with the important job. Shouldn’t you be studying your script with Will and Becca instead of checking up on me? ”
“We’re trying! But Becca is insisting we help her pick out her outfits for some kind of couples counseling session with Peter. I’m not sure I’m following everything she’s saying.”
“You think she’s up for all this? With everything going on with Peter?”
“This is exactly what she needs. Don’t worry about her. Worry about yourself. Make sure Abby picks up her phone and, for God’s sake, don’t under any circumstances do that little tongue bitey thing.” They paused. “You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?”
She released her tongue from her teeth. “I still can’t believe we’re actually going through with any of this. It’s not too late to back out.”
“Naomi Hoffman. You’ve already laid half the trap, and you’re about to go seal the deal. You’re in far too deep. Now go and do Cupid’s bidding. We’re all counting on you.”
Riley hung up before she could respond, so she said it to an empty elevator instead, “No pressure.”
The restaurant, a ten-seat spot located in the garden unit of a lingerie store, was a few blocks from her office, so it was a short walk there.
She and Abby had spent a good portion of their twenties devouring their addictively delicious yet somehow affordable food.
In the last few years, particularly as she navigated her divorce with Simon, they had gone out less and less, opting for the safety that their sofas provided.
Which is why she was more than a little bewildered when she opened the door to the restaurant and wasn’t greeted by the din of a handful of customers but the roar of voices from a crowd of people.
The entrance was so jam-packed, she had to shimmy her way to the host to put their name in.
There was one, perhaps only one, upside to this tragic loss of their hidden joint. For tonight at least, the chaos would hopefully distract Abby and provide her some cover.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Naomi said when Abby walked in a few minutes later. “It’s a forty-five-minute wait.”
Abby looked as dismayed as Naomi felt. “Apparently, it’s not our secret spot anymore.”
“I’m happy for them,” she said, trying to give it a positive spin. “They deserve the success.”
“Yes, yes, obviously good for them. But in the meantime, I’m devastated for us. I don’t mind waiting, but what are we going to do when we’re drunk and desperately need the yummiest tacos in the city right away?”
She smiled and shrugged. “Wait, like the plebs we are.”
Abby mimed grasping the hilt of a knife with both hands and stabbing herself in the chest. “My heart.” She moaned.
Naomi stared at Abby’s hands. Her empty hands. Where was her phone? If it was in her purse, there was a chance she’d miss the call. She started to panic but then remembered they’d discussed this scenario last night. If Abby wasn’t holding her phone, then she had to…
“You okay?” Abby asked.
Dammit. She needed to be more careful. She instinctively started to bite down on the tip of her tongue, but caught herself and opted for an effusive smile. “Oh, yeah. So what were you saying in your text? Why was Becca blaming you?”
Step one, get Abby talking and distracted. Her sister was easy bait.
On cue, Abby rolled her eyes. “I guess she and Peter finally went to see that therapist I recommended to her. Which, don’t get me wrong, gave me this funny feeling I’ve never felt before.
Something akin to feeling proud of her. I can’t be sure.
But then she needed to take time out of her day to tell me how terrible it was and make it sound like it was somehow my fault. ”
Three minutes to go.
Step two, ask to use her phone. “Uh huh, listen, could I borrow your phone for a second? Mine is almost dead and I forgot to check the, uh …”