15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GRETCHEN
W hen I return home after my shift that night, I see a folded note taped to my door. Here’s my number, it reads , so we can communicate more efficiently during daylight hours. -B.
The rest of my day – meaning the space between Brady’s impromptu dance lesson at the studio and the end of the night when I find his note – quickly unraveled into a disaster.
Still, seeing his scrawl on a piece of paper with my name on it teleports me back to our afternoon together, and the past eight, messy hours at Cosmo somehow evaporate.
All that remains are memories of his smile, his touch, his breath on my neck – and suddenly, I’m giddy all over again.
That dance.
After Brady high-tailed it out of there, Miranda came to tow lot to pick up her car, and (other than asking if he was there), we didn’t say much to each other.
I closed up shop once she left and grabbed a few things at the supermarket for a quick dinner, headed back home, ate, and got ready for my night shift.
When I got back to the studio later on, I was surprised to find a very different kind of note inside my locker. It was a Post-It note. From Arrow.
Had to go to Tucson, it read. Not sure how long I’ll be gone.
Since Cherry’s out, I need you to be in charge of bookings and any office business.
All the info is on my laptop. Password is kitten414.
Call Cherry if you need anything. You guys can operate without me for a few days until I return. xx, Arrow
Tucson?
Really?
And she was leaving me in charge? Via directions on a Post-It?
Huh.
I called Arrow in an attempt to get actual intel, but it went straight to voicemail. I hung up before leaving a message, hoping someone else would know what this was all about.
When the girls arrived, I showed them the little yellow square of paper. I tried not to panic at the thought of being down to three girls running an entire party.
“Does anyone know why Arrow would go to Tucson?” I asked.
“I think she has family there,” Saffron said.
“If anyone would know, it’s Cherry,” Indigo added. “She’s known her the longest.”
I debated calling Cherry, since I wasn’t sure when she was getting out of the hospital. I shot her a text instead asking her to call me when she had a free second. No sense in worrying her, since she really couldn’t do anything to help us in her present state.
“Okay, well, in the meantime, we need to figure out how we’re going to get through today.
” I pulled out the laptop, pressed the power button to turn it on, and waited for the welcome screen to load.
Indigo and Saffron sat down by the locker bank seemingly unfazed and before long, became engrossed in something on one of their phones.
When prompted, I entered the password as instructed.
A bunch of windows opened up, and there was a pop-up that read, “Google Chrome did not shut down properly. Restore all pages?” I automatically hit “yes” because that was my brain’s knee-jerk reaction, but I was not prepared for the e-mail that appeared on the screen.
And, because I’m human and the subject line was in caps… I couldn’t help but read it.
“Um, guys?” I said to Saffron and Indigo.
The girls looked up from Saffron’s phone, where a famous pole influencer was demonstrating an advanced move called the Broken Doll on TikTok. “What’s up?” Saffron asked.
“Look at this,” I said, passing them the laptop. I waited quietly while they read.
“Who’s Jennifer?” Indigo asked.
“Arrow’s sister, I’m guessing?” I replied. “I know she has a niece. That's the girl in the picture on the fridge."
“Jeez,” Saffron said. “That explains her vanishing act.”
“She didn't say anything to you guys? Haven’t you been working together for a long time?”
“Yeah, but she never gets personal. At least not with us,” Saffron added.
Indigo shrugged. “She’s only tight with Cherry.”
“She never even hangs out with us,” Saffron reminded me. “Arrow’s not about mixing business with pleasure.”
“But she always says ‘pole is a sisterhood,’” I argued. “I just assumed she was closed off with me but was friends with you guys.”
“Nope.” Saffron shook her head. “And I always thought the girl on the fridge was her daughter. That was why I figured she never did the beach days. I assumed she was doing grown-up parenting things.”
“No one ever thought to ask her?”
“She’s not exactly approachable, Summer.” Indigo laughed.
I nodded. “That’s true.”
“Anyway, I’m guessing she’ll be gone for at least a few days,” Saffron said. “Judging from that e-mail, it could be even longer than that.”
I sighed. “I guess we better get to work, then.”
There were a bunch of Excel spreadsheets on the home screen. One was marked with today’s date, so I opened it.
“Check it out,” I said, and the girls huddled around me.
“Looks like 17 people are coming tonight. Not bad; I think we can handle that on our own. The entertainment is a cowboy. Okay, so it’s a country theme, I’m guessing.
That’s fine. There’s cowboy boots in here somewhere, right? ” I scanned the wall of shoeboxes.
“Yeah,” Saffron said. “A few pairs in different sizes. They’re up top.” She pointed to an upper shelf way above the fridge.
“Cool. I would so much rather wear cowboy boots than regular pole heels,” I added.
“Just keep in mind you won’t be able to climb in them,” Indigo pointed out.
“That’s fine. I’ll stay mostly on the floor. I can take keys, run the shots and handle the front door, and I can teach the choreo in boots. Should be no sweat.”
“What should we do?” Saffron asked.
“If you can cover the music,” I said, “that would be great. And Indie, if you can be the hype person when they first get here, to get the party started, that would help too.”
“No sweat,” she agreed.
“We can all do the money stuff together at the end of the night. But I’ll collect the cowboy’s cash and put it in the envelope for him when it’s time for him to go.” I paused to think. “Is there anything I’m missing?”
They shook their heads. “I guess we’re lucky it’s Sunday,” Saffron offered.
“Seriously,” Indigo echoed.
The evening was smooth and uneventful, minus a little mishap with Between The Lines (a crazy popular food truck that drove all the way out from Sandwich to cater this event).
They got lost on the way to the studio and couldn’t find the barely-marked warehouse space, so I ended up jogging down to Route 6, where I waited at the turn for the truck, flagging them down like a lady of the night on the street corner, a human advertisement for The Village People in my little cowgirl vest, booty chaps and ten gallon hat.
Once they arrived and set up the food, the girls gorged themselves on something called the Sloppy Chopstick, which is a sloppy joe made with brisket, grilled pineapple and Asian coleslaw.
It’s a huge sandwich that smells incredible but ended up all over the ladies as well as the floor.
They should have ordered bachelorette bibs to accompany their fine dining choice.
In fact, so much barbecue sauce and slaw wound up anywhere but on plates or in mouths that the girls and I stayed late to mop, which is something we usually don’t do – but we wanted to make sure we covered all our bases since we had no idea when Arrow would return from her sudden sojourn to Tucson.
I considered trying to call Arrow again after we were done cleaning, but when I checked my phone, I saw that I missed a call from Cherry during the party.
I decided not to return her call so late at night since she was probably settling in at home after being discharged from the hospital.
Instead, I set a reminder in my phone to try her the next day.
By the time I got home, I was exhausted, but as I walked down the hallway towards my apartment door, I couldn’t help but feel butterflies in my stomach.
I half expected Brady to pop out from behind his door as I passed by.
He didn’t, though, which was probably for the best since I didn’t want to go to the beach the following morning looking like a zombie.
But the little note taped to my door with his phone number on it was a pretty sweet surprise.
Now, I fumble with the keys, unlock the door and head inside, where I strip off my work clothes and pull on a pair of comfy sweats and a fresh tank top.
I head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.
I plug my phone in and set it on my nightstand on top of the note, testing every ounce of restraint I’ve got.
I close my eyes, but all I can see is Brady’s face.
Nope. I’m not that strong.
I punch in the numbers and save Brady’s info in my phone. Then, I let my thumbs fly across the flat panel keyboard on the screen.
Hey there. Thanks for your number. Figured you should have mine, too. Hope I’m not waking you.
I hit send, then realize I omitted an important piece of information. It’s Gretchen, btw. Not sure if you tape your number to lots of doors on the reg, but figured I should probably clarify just in case. ??
I see three dots appear. My heart begins to race, despite my body’s exhaustion.
I heard you come in. Glad you’re home safe. Looking forward to our date tomorrow. ??
I smile. My stomach twists up like a pretzel. I’m not sure how to respond, so my thumbs just hover over the screen. The dots come up again, and then this message pops up: And, no. You’re the only person whose door I’m leaving my number on.
Good, I type. Then, I stop before hitting send.
I’m tempted to say something flirty but I don’t want to come off as thirsty.
I delete the word, replace it with Well, that’s nice.
I hope you had a nice rest of your day. That feels more tame, but it’s late, and I’m tired, and my conversational skills are maybe not the best at this exact moment.
I’m sorry for leaving earlier, he writes. I would’ve liked to hang out longer and finish our dance. ??