Page 8 of No Such Thing as Serendipity
“Jesus.” I dramatically put my arm over my eyes. “Are you trying to blind me?”
“Eek.” She let out an exaggerated sound of horror. Apparently, melodrama ran in the family. “What is all this shit?”
I assumed it was a rhetorical question since my pile of discarded clothes lay in a pile by my desk, surrounded by two days’ worth of Grubhub offerings. She picked up the Armani blazer I’d worn for my meeting with Terrence from the floor and shook it out.
“This is your favorite suit jacket. Why is it down there?”
“Salvation Army,” I mumbled. At least that was where I planned to send the unlucky garment once I found the energy.
“Maybe you should put it on.” She thrust the offensive clothing toward me and nodded toward the open blinds. “Everyone doesn’t need to see you in your bra and underwear.”
“We’re on the thirty-eighth floor. I doubt anyone can see.”
“Except the creeper with the binoculars in the building next door.”
I raised my arms and turned slowly in a circle. “Feast your eyes on this,” I said, raising my voice.
Emma snorted. “Yes, aren’t the dark circles under your eyes and greasy hair sexy? When did you last shower, or sleep for that matter?”
Maybe I hadn’t taken a shower since I returned home on Wednesday, but I had slept—some.
As I formulated my response, Emma picked up the tiny throw pillow sitting on my desk. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping here.”
In protest, I pulled the blinds back down before I plopped into my desk chair. Emma was making me tired, and I doubted she’d let me get away with not answering her questions.
Emma’s expression softened, and she dropped the blazer back onto the pile of clothes. “Blake, what’s going on?”
How could I tell my sister that I’d failed? That this was another item I couldn’t check off my list. I glanced over at the balloons she’d set down.
“Do you have a pin?”
She crinkled her nose, the way she always did when I said something stupid. “There’s one right there on your desk.”
“Pin. P-I-N. Not pen.”
“Why do you need a pin?” She was now talking to me like I was a confused child.
Time to say something a child wouldn’t and wipe the look off her face. I swept my hand toward the balloons. “So I can pop those fucking things.”
A crease lined her forehead, and then understanding showed in her eyes. “Oh, Blake, you didn’t get the promotion?”
To show she was close, I tapped my nose.
“What the hell does that mean?” Exasperation returned to her tone.
“Charades. Remember?”
“God, we haven’t played charades for twenty years. I walk into this dark, hot dungeon and find you half naked, looking like you’ve been on a weeklong bender.” She glanced down at the empty sacks. “Or at least, a food binge, and now you’re responding in charade gestures. Would you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Fine.” I glared at her, deciding not to prolong the humiliation I’d feel at her disappointment in me. “Not only didn’t I get the promotion, I was let go.” It sounded too benign, so I added, “Cut loose. Terminated. Fired.”
Her face fell, and her eyes filled with sadness. Before I had time to react, she rushed to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Oh, Blake, I’m so sorry. I know how important it was to you.”
I wasn’t a hugger by nature, even if my sister and her family were. On major holidays and at the end of our monthly sister meetings, I humored her. This wasn’t one of those occasions, so I stiffened and pulled back. “Jesus. That’s creepy. I’m half naked here.”
She leaned back but continued to hold on to my shoulders. “Oh, for shit’s sake.” Leave it to Emma to be unable to say,for fuck’s sake.“I’m your sister, not some stranger trying to get into your panties.”
“Eww. Touching my bare shoulders and saying panties while doing it is even creepier.”
