Chapter 16 Lucy
Lucy
Eman peeks over my cubicle while I’m mid-bite of a pretty gnarly breakfast burrito. “Lucy, the clicks to your story this morning are insane.”
“Really?” I say through a mouthful of Tater Tots and bacon.
“The team has been so happy,” she emphasizes. “And brands have reached out about some sponsored posts to your column.”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “That’s amazing, Eman.”
“The timing is just incredible. I know last time we talked things were kind of new but…” Eman swings around the cubicle and sits in an empty chair. “You two are really official?”
“It’s official.” I smile, trying to match her energy. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Lucy!” Eman squeezes my hand. “Congratulations, that’s huge!”
“It’s not that huge.” I laugh. “It’s just a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but like, you haven’t been official with anyone since I’ve known you. This guy must be someone great. I mean, he sounds great from what I’m reading.”
I smile. “He is.”
“What’s his name?”
“Mar—” I hesitate for a moment. “K…Mark.”
“Mark,” Eman repeats. “Hot.”
“Mhm,” I agree.
“How did you meet? What does he do? I’m so invested.”
“We met at a bar…” I say slowly, hoping Eman doesn’t ask too many questions.
“Do you have a photo?” Eman asks directly.
I frown. “I, um, do not. But he’s tall? Brown hair, glasses…”
“I’m going to be impatiently waiting for you two to post a photo,” Eman prods.
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon.” I shake my head. “I’m enjoying keeping things private right now. Being in our bubble.”
“I get it.” Eman stands up. “I’m just so happy you’re happy! And, Lucy, thank you for writing about it. Navigating the dynamic of a new relationship isn’t easy, and the fact that you’re willing to put it all out there is really appreciated.”
“No worries, Eman. I’m happy to,” I say. “There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for my job.”
“I know there isn’t,” Eman says sincerely and then starts to head down the hall.
I wait for her to leave and then pull up my work instant messages. I look for my conversation with Marsh and send over a document.
Lucy Reid:
Here are the notes from Brixley Carter’s interview if you want them. I also added Christina Logan’s notes so they’re all in one place.
Marshall Oakley:
Morning, this looks great. Thank you.
Lucy Reid:
Also, did you get Jonah’s invite for tonight? Happy Hour?
Marshall Oakley:
Yeah, I’ll be there.
Lucy Reid:
Excited! See you later.
Monthly happy hour at the Arts District Brewing Company is a tradition at The Journal.
The invite always goes out to the company-wide instant messaging group so that every employee is welcome.
I spot Jonah at a high-top with Aisha from health and wellness, Shanna from sports, Marsh, and a man who looks familiar, but I haven’t officially met. “Hey!” I squeeze beside Jonah.
“Hey,” Jonah says. “Where were you?”
“Parking has gotten worse around here,” I say, taking a sip of my five-dollar beer.
“That’s why I validated.”
“The cost to validate just offsets the happy hour,” I say.
He grabs a mozzarella stick from the basket of communal appetizers on the table. “I think of it as money I would’ve spent anyway.”
I take a sip of my beer and try not to look at Marsh too long from across the table. It’s weird being out in public with him and not acting like we’re together. Ironically, it’s been easier to pretend that we’re a couple. I want to stand beside him, have him put his arm around me.
“Lucy”—Marsh gestures to the man beside him—“this is Sam. He’s on the news team.”
Sam tips his beer my way, earning a smile. “Nice to meet you, Lucy.”
“Lucy writes the sex and relationships column at The Rue,” Marsh says.
“How are you liking it?” he asks.
“It’s good. I’ve been here for almost four years, so I guess I’m liking it?” I laugh. “How long have you been at The Journal?”
“About two years now?” he says. “It’s been crazy, but thank god Marsh came in. He’s been churning out stories like a machine.”
Marsh bashfully sips his beer then changes the subject. “Also, Jonah, I read your interview with Anna Wintour. Loved it.”
“You did?” Jonah says, the corners of his mouth tilting up in surprise. “Wow, thanks. Are you into fashion?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Marsh replies. “But I try to read everything.”
“Speaking of,” Shanna interjects, “I read your story this morning, Lucy. It was good! It’s different from your usual stuff.”
“In what way?” I ask.
“The relationship part of it all?” Jonah offers.
“Well, that, but also, I don’t know, your voice feels different. It’s like…” Shanna drifts off.
“It’s like what?” Jonah raises an eyebrow.
“It’s going to sound bad,” Shanna winces.
“Okay, well now you have to tell me!” I say.
“You seem really happy!” Shanna says as delicately as possible. “Not that you don’t normally, but it just feels different in a good way!”
My cheeks start to feel a little warmer. “I am happy.”
Aisha nudges me not so subtly. “So, who’s the guy?!”
“Oh, uh…” My eyes briefly land on Marsh’s, and he looks down at his beer. “He’s just a guy.”
“Ha,” Aisha says. “From what I’m reading, he’s not just a guy.”
“Maybe some things Lucy needs to save for the articles,” Jonah chimes in, for which I’m relieved.
“Are you going to write about the sex?” Shanna asks and Marsh starts coughing.
I shift. “I think I need to give some privacy to my boyfriend.”
“No, totally,” Aisha agrees. “But if you’re connecting with this guy on an emotional level, I can’t imagine how good the sex must be.”
“You know”—Jonah looks at me, the wheels spinning—“it would make for good content…”
I think about the other day in the car. Marsh whispering the dirtiest things in my ear and how I haven’t felt that level of desire in…
possibly ever. I’ve been with men who have satisfied my needs sexually.
They’re good at sex and they know it. But with Marsh, it’s almost like anything erotic, we’re doing it together.
It’s a journey with the two of us; we’re on the same page, exploring what the other person wants and needs instead of just doing the tried things from before.
Pushing all the right buttons, touching all the right spots, saying all the right things. It feels more exciting with Marsh.
For the first time in my life, I don’t want to kiss and tell.
“In a surprising turn of events, I am actually not going to talk about my sex life tonight,” I say regretfully.
“She’s a new woman.” Shanna laughs and clinks her beer bottle to mine.
Aisha then leans into the group, her voice lower. “Okay, so I’ve been dying to ask…Has anyone heard anything about layoffs?”
The word causes my breath to shake. My eyes quickly scan everyone else’s, desperate to find a hint of insight.
“There are layoffs coming?” Sam asks.
“They’ve been saying that for the past year,” Jonah adds, trying to put Sam at ease.
“Yeah, and you didn’t hear it from me…but Bridget in payroll said it’s coming at the end of the year,” Aisha says. “Before anyone gets their bonuses.”
“They can’t do that!” Shanna counters.
“I think they can do whatever they want,” Aisha says regretfully. “Because they’re a corporation and don’t care.”
We all are stumped and stunned into silence.
“Nowhere is safe,” Sam groans. “We should’ve all become doctors.”
“I don’t even know if that would help.” Marsh lets out an exhausted scoff. “Everyone is getting hit.”
“Well then, I’m buying everyone a round of shots to celebrate the start of a recession.” Sam smacks the table and then Shanna follows him toward the bar to help.
After our depressing cheers, the conversation transitions into separate chats around the table.
I especially clock an obvious connection between Shanna and Sam.
I’ve seen her laugh too hard at his jokes and touch his arm way too many times in the last thirty minutes.
Jonah and I grab one last round of beers before happy hour is over and find a spot outside, away from everyone.
“Close call earlier,” Jonah says, alluding to my latest story.
“And you were helpful until you weren’t!”
“What did I do?” Jonah puts a hand on his chest.
“Oh, it would make for good content,” I mimic him in a much lower voice.
“It would!” He laughs. “You’re really going to keep these stories PG?”
“I was going to…” I say. “But now I feel like a fraud if I don’t talk about my sex life. What if I lose my readers?”
“I don’t think you’ll lose readers,” Jonah muses. “But you’ll probably get unhappy ones. You write a sex column. It’s kind of expected at this point.”
I stomp my foot. “Ugh, you’re right.”
“Side note”—Jonah looks over to the inside of the brewery—“I really like Marsh.”
“Right?!” I get a little giddy hearing Jonah’s opinion. “It’s only been like two and a half weeks, but I’ve never worked with anyone like him before. He respects me. He thinks I’m a talented writer.”
“Because you are a talented writer,” Jonah says. “Don’t let that be the bar.”
“But there’s just something different about him. He’s shrewd, and really witty. He’s just someone that has his shit together, you know? Like that’s really cool—”
“Oh my god,” Jonah says slowly, enunciating every word.
I stop. “What?”
“You’re so into him,” he whispers.
“No…”
“Yes, you are! I know you, Luce,” he says, and then his demeanor switches. “How are you feeling? Does this all feel too complicated now?”
“It’s fine,” I respond, dismissing him. “We have an arrangement.”
“And he feels the same way?”
“Okay, well.” I brace myself. “We had a moment…We’ve kind of had multiple moments. But he always stops it before things go too far.” I think about this. Being turned down by a man on multiple occasions doesn’t look great on paper. “Maybe this is all just a moot point and he’s not even interested.”
“I think that just means he respects you and respects his job,” Jonah says. “He’s new to the company, he probably doesn’t want to risk it all for a piece of ass. No matter how nice that ass is.”
“I do have a nice ass,” I agree.
“He’s also friends with Nadia Lewis, right?” Jonah adds. “I’m sure that makes it complicated.”