Page 5 of Just Business

Josie

Call me.

Well, that’s not super ominous or anything. I tap the call button, putting it on speaker. She picks up after four rings.

“Bad news. Jay started vomiting about an hour ago. Abby followed soon after, and my stomach is killing me. I think Abby caught it at the sleepover last night.”

It’s good that Josie isn’t FaceTiming me because I’d hate for her to see how my face just fell. We’re way past due for a night out together, a night we both desperately need. Between my hectic studio schedule and her Etsy orders, it’s been over two months since we’ve had a girls’ night out. Our lives have, quite literally, become bullet points on a to-do list with very little living in between. Obviously, she can’t help a stomach virus, and God knows I can’t afford to get sick, but I’m still disappointed. I wanted one night out with my best friend to have a little fun. Plus, my birthday was last week. After spending it alone with a slice of store bought cake, I’ve been looking forward to a late celebration with my best friend.

“No, Jo. It’s fine, I swear. There’s no way you could have prevented this. You stay home and take care of them. Do you need anything? Gatorade, crackers, Lysol?” She doesn’t have a lot of help, so even if she says no, I’ll be making a run to the grocery store.

“I think we’re good. I’ll scrounge up what we need,” she replies.

“Headed your way in fifteen.”

“Penny!”

“Josie!” I volley back. “I know good and well you probably have stale crackers and Lysol left over from 2020. I’ll run and grab a few things.”

She sighs but gives in after a second. “Fine. But next time we get together, I’ll buy the wine.”

“Deal. I’ll leave everything on the porch and text you.”

My hair is still damp, but I grab my purse and keys and head to the store. It only takes a few minutes to gather everything she might need, and I grab her a pack of paper towels and toilet paper at the last minute, too. You can never be too careful where a stomach virus is concerned. Once I’ve paid, I jump back in my car and head her way.

Smudge’s barking yaps can be heard as soon as I get out of my car, alerting Josie I’m here. Hooking the bags over my arms, I run up her steps, lay them on her porch swing, and head back to my car to text her.

Groceries are on your swing. Feel better soon, boo. Love you.

Josie

Thanks. BTW I definitely have it. Love you too.

Ugh. I’m sorry, Jo. Stay hydrated. Call me if you need anything else.

Hey, Jo?

Josie

Yeah?

Thanks, Chad.

Josie

lol Fucking Chad.

Chad is Josie’s ex-husband, otherwise known as the sperm donor. When he realized parenting was hard work, he just up and left. He worked out of town, and one day, he literally went to work and never came back. No letter, nothing. A month later, she was served with divorce papers. That’s why she has to handle stomach viruses—and everything else life throws at her—all on her own. We have an unspoken agreement that whenever something doesn’t go our way, we blame Chad, even if it's not remotely related to him.

Her hair dryer stops working?Thanks, Chad.

The drive-thru gets our order wrong?Fucking Chad.

Right as I’m pulling into my driveway my phone pings with an email notification. Glancing down, I see it’s from the BookMe app that I use to book musicians for studio time. I click it and the app opens up.

“Noooo,” I groan, resting my head against my headrest. A cancellation from my three-week booking is not what I need right now. This session would have covered a month of bills, with enough left over to do some much needed repairs on the studio. It seems like with every step forward I manage to take, two steps back immediately follow, and this dance is wearing on me.

In the note’s section of the cancellation notice, their manager explains that the lead singer had an emergency appendectomy. I blow out a breath, puffing my cheeks out. Okay, well, that’s understandable. What kind of person would I be if I was salty about an emergency surgery? They still paid the non-refundable deposit, but that’s nowhere near enough for all I have coming due.

---