Page 10 of Faker
“We take photos of how the house is coming along a couple times a week and post to social media. We’ll attach the hashtags you came up with to stay on message. People pay more attention when they can visualize progress, even if it’s little by little.”
He nods. “Okay, then.” That’s as close to a “good job” as I’ve ever gotten out of him. I feel myself start to smile, but I pull my lips back into a straight line.
“I also thought we could partner with the local food bank and do a food drive at the worksite. I already emailed one of the coordinators there.” I slide a printout of the email across the table to him, like a lawyer handing over a crucial document to opposing counsel. “Nuts & Bolts folks can bring nonperishable food items to the site. We’ll promo it hard on social media for anyone else in the area who wants to donate. We’ll get some excellent cross promotion with the food bank by doing that, in addition to helping a good cause. I’ll write up a press release about it and send it to local media for more exposure.”
Tate nods. “This could work,” he mutters as he scans the paper.
This is a strange dance we’re attempting and a far cry from our earlier shit-fit. We’re both able to remain even, unemotional, andsuccinct in our exchange. We’ve never done that before, and I want to see how long we can maintain this pseudo-professionalism. It happens so infrequently.
“What other ideas do you have?” I say, keeping eye contact with him.
“Random act of kindness day. We’ll make it a hashtag to encourage Nuts & Bolts’ social media followers to do something nice for someone on a specific day of the week. We’ll tell them to tag themselves in a selfie and post it online. Hopefully, it’ll be a weekly thing followers will look forward to, which will help promote Nuts & Bolts and the homebuilding project.”
I raise my eyebrows. That’s actually a great idea. “That could work,” I say, borrowing his words.
Tate scribbles something on his pad. I jot down notes on mine. We look up at the same moment and say nothing. This must be some kind of record. Fifteen minutes into a meeting and we haven’t lashed out at each other. We’d better quit while we’re ahead.
“If you don’t have anything else, I can head back to my desk,” I say.
“That’s all I’ve got.” When I stand up, I spot a speck of notebook paper hanging from his curls, just above his forehead. “You have something in your hair.”
I stretch my hand out to his face to point it out, but he jerks away.
“I’ve got it.” His lightning-fast movement away from me is a punch to the gut. I know we’re not on good terms, but I was just trying to be decent.
“I wasn’t going to do anything. I was just—”
“I said I’ve got it,” he snaps.
My face heats on the walk back to the desk. Even the most pleasant meeting we’ve ever had still results in hurt feelings on myend. I rub my temples with my fingers, failing to massage away the tension. Faking my way through more weekly meetings with Tate will be a whole new challenge.
•••
FOUR MILES INTOmy evening jog and I still can’t shake my frustration. I can endure almost anything, even a run in ninety-degree heat and ninety percent humidity—but one-on-one meetings with a temperamental Tate for the foreseeable future? Not a chance.
I give up and head back home to my duplex. I’m stripping off my soaking wet clothes in my bathroom when my best friend Kaitlin rings me.
“Emmie! What are you up to?” Her singsong greeting chirps against my ear. No matter how annoyed or angry I am, the sound of her voice always perks me up.
“Just trying to give myself heatstroke by going for a run. How about you?”
“Show-off. Libby’s teething, which means she’s a howling, restless mess. I’m taking her to the indoor playground at the mall to hopefully help her burn off some energy. Wanna come? I need to be around an adult for a while.”
Spending time with Kaitlin and her baby daughter is my favorite pick-me-up. “Let me get cleaned up. Meet you there in a half hour.”
When I arrive, I spot Kaitlin sitting on a bench near the main play area. Baby Libby bounces happily on her lap. I bend down to hug Kaitlin and then scoop up Libby. She squeals with delight.
“I swear, you are the only person she will let grab her out of her mama’s arms,” Kaitlin says.
I scoot next to Kaitlin on the bench while Libby balances her impossibly tiny feet on the tops of my legs.
“I consider that to be the highest compliment a person could ever receive.” I kiss Libby’s chubby cheeks, and she giggles. “You love your auntie Emmie, don’t you?”
From my purse, I fish out a small container of ice cubes and hold one up to Libby’s mouth.
Kaitlin squeezes me in a one-armed side hug. “You’re amazing. I completely forgot to bring the bag of ice cubes I set aside in the freezer.”
“You’re busy remembering a million things every day. I can manage a single cup of ice cubes.”
