Page 30 of About Last Night

“Yeah. I was shocked Audrey didn’t spontaneously combust from your laser-like focus, but that’s Audrey for you. All business.”

“Yeah,” I say, watching Greta and Audrey. Both remarkably alike in their all-business demeanors. I’ve always found it off-putting in Greta, but damn if it isn’t a bit of a turn-on when I switch my gaze to Audrey. That’s going to take some unpacking with my therapist, i.e. Max, tonight over a beer.

Willa finishes packing her computer. “So how do you and Audrey know each other?”

The question sounds innocent enough. Too innocent. I’m determined not to say anything that would give me the pursed lips and disapproving stare from Audrey again.

“We met Friday night at the Dew Drop Inn. She got on stage and sang a fuck-you break-up song to her ex. Brought the house down.”

“She what?”

Greta and Audrey join us. “Toni, Audrey is going to help you pull together your business plan this week.”

I could kiss my sister right now. “Great,” I say in as professional a voice as I can muster.

“Gather whatever you need and meet me back here once you’re done meeting with Greta,” Audrey says.

I can’t tell if she’s happy about this change in her project timeline or not.

“Sounds good.” I know I have a goofy grin on my face, but I mean, seriously? Spending the next week working one on one with Audrey is a freaking gift. I might just have to kiss my sister. Instead, I follow her down the hall to her office. She tells me to shut the door and drops her iPad on the desk a little harder than she probably should.

“What the hell, Toni?”

“What do you mean?”

“I would say I can’t believe you came to the meeting with nothing prepared, but this is you we’re talking about.”

“Hey. Just a minute. I’ve been out in the field. I haven’t had time to sit at a computer for hours putting together some stupid presentation to go over all the ideas I’ve been telling you about for months.”

“Oh, really? What did you do this weekend?”

“Had fun. It was the holidays. Thanksgiving? Remember the big-ass turkey we ate with Mom and Dad? Let me guess, you worked all weekend.”

“It was Black Friday; of course I worked. And a good thing. Our servers crashed with all the traffic.”

“Our business was just fine before you decided we needed to compete with?—”

Greta holds up a perfectly manicured hand that hasn’t clutched a rock face in at least a decade. “I’m not going to have this argument with you again. Besides, didn’t you just say we would have the biggest adventure business in America in a year? You’re as ambitious as I am, you just have your whole”—she waves her hand—“devil-may-care mountain woman aesthetic to maintain.”

I open my mouth to respond but clamp it shut instead. There is no point in fighting with Greta. Our personalities are night and day. She’s all structure and rules and I’m a hippie dirtbag who knows nature laughs at structure and rules and can adapt to unexpected situations on a moment’s notice. Greta keeps me in line, and I keep her from taking herself too seriously all the time. Or at least we try. We fail more often than not, though.

“Why were you staring at Audrey like a kid with a Christmas puppy?” Greta asks.

“I wasn’t.”

Greta scoffs. “You’ve slept with her before, haven’t you?”

“No.”

Greta sighs and sits down, and motions for me to do the same. “When?” she asks.

“When what?”

Greta gives me the big sister stop with the bullshit expression.

“Friday night,” I confess.

“As in two days ago?”

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