Page 34 of Back for More
As he’s shutting his office door, he says, “And FYI, this is a classy business. Cock and beaver parties are limited to Friday afternoons only.” Before he shuts the door all the way, I get a glimpse of his dimple.
Damn you, dimple. How’s a girl supposed to get any work done with you around?
* * *
“Dammit, I was seriously hoping you’d gotten fat.” Alecia opens her front door wearing unicorn pajamas and holding an infant boy on one hip.
“I can come back next week. I fully expect to be stress-eating nonstop between now and then.”
“Oh, who are we kidding. You’ll never get fat. Bring it in.”
We give each other an awkward one-arm hug.
“I was going to get all dressed up for you,” she says, gesturing to her pajamas. “But then I was like—fuck it. True story!”
I laugh. “Shall I contribute to the swear jar for you?”
“Nah, we gave up when we realized our kids don’t actually listen to us!” She swings the infant around toward me. “This sweet little monster is Spencer. And this pretty little monster is Charlotte.” She steps to the side, revealing a small curly haired person in a pink fairy costume who’s been hiding behind her legs.
“Hey there, Charlotte and Spencer! I’m Lily. We talked on Facetime once. Do you remember?”
The both shake their heads.
“I see you brought a little cock and beaver to the party. Funny!”
It’s the weirdest thing, being introduced to the offspring of your best friend from school. One minute you’re in her parents’ basement listening to Fall Out Boy before a party and she’s daring you to pound a Kool Aid slushie spiked with tequila, vodka, rum, and whiskey; the next you’re in her kitchen eating butter and cheese pasta while Little Monster #1 sings some ridiculous song about being a gummy bear and your friend is begging Little Monster #2 to swallow a spoonful of organic applesauce while describing in great detail what happened to her nipples when she started breastfeeding.
I’ve been on the edge of tears ever since I first saw them in person—the kids, not the nipples—because they’re so cute and beautiful and look just like mini versions of Leesh and Neal. But after thirty-five minutes, I also don’t understand how anyone can live with these tiny adorable assholes, because I want to set my own hair on fire and run away screaming. Every time I ask their mother a question about her life, Spencer spits out his food and Charlotte has something much more important to ask her—like can she have my yogurt snack if I don’t want it (irrelevant—I want my yogurt snack).
“Well, I should probably start heading back to the office,” I mutter after trying to get Alecia to talk about whether or not she’s gotten any writing done for the fifth time. I think I have my answer.
“Ohhh but wait! We’ve barely had a chance to hang!” she complains and apologizes all at once. “So you’re okay? It’s okay being back? I think about your mom still sometimes. I miss her.”
I feel my eyes sting and my nose tingle all of a sudden. “Yeah, me too. Yeah, it’s fine being back. I mean, I just got here. We’ll see.”
“And—wait—did you tell me about the stage work you did in New York? I mean, I know we texted when you were there, but I’ve lost half of my brain cells since then.”
I sigh. I did tell her, but she was too busy cleaning up spilled grape juice to listen.
She’s trying so hard to focus on me now, even though I know she’s dying to get up to grab a baby wipe for her kids’ messy hands and faces. “I mean, you must have gotten a lot of parts.”
I guffaw, and Charlotte mimics me. “I wish. In New York I was mostly just going to acting classes and waitressing and modeling. I got one part in an off-off Broadway play that ran for like two weeks. But it’s so competitive out there, and I had no stage experience compared to the other New York actors. It was…humbling.”
“But Mrs. Naylor said you were the most naturally gifted actress she’d ever known, and you’re so talented!”
“So are two million other people who went to Juilliard and Yale Drama School or whatever.” I wave my hand in the air. “Enough about that. I’m an assistant now, and I need to get back to my desk.”
“And how is it, working for Wes?”
Suddenly, Charlotte stops tapping at her empty plastic bowl with her spoon, sits up straight, and squeals, “Uncle Weth is coming?”
I raise an eyebrow at Alecia.
“He babysits sometimes, when we need a backup. He’s great with them, actually. The kids love him.”
Oh my God. Can’t there be one person in my life who likes me more than they like Weth Carver?
I feel that sudden, embarrassing surge of competitiveness come over me. Something about living on the same property as Wes made him seem like a sibling in some ways, and that just added to my complicated feelings for him. “Well, I can be your backup babysitter, now that I’m here.”
