Page 34 of Is This for Real?
“Yes, since college.”
“And no sparks back then?” Myrtle is like a dog with a bone.
“Well, there were sparks on my side. How could there not be?” “Adventure of a Lifetime” by Coldplay is playing. I can’t help but sway to the rhythm of it.
“Indeed.” She gazes appreciatively at Rory.
The discussion among the men looks intense. Rory’s brow is furrowed, but he’s nodding.
“What do you do?” Myrtle takes a sip of her cocktail.
“I’m a writer. What do you do?” We move away from the center bar to the corner of the room near Rory and Bernie. Some younger employees are laughing in a circle next to us.
“What do you write?” she asks.
“Romantic comedy.”
She looks surprised. A passing waiter offers us Thai chicken skewers. I take one.
Bernie comes up. She says, “Penelope writes romance.”
Bernie says, “Myrtle has read me some of those sex scenes. Hubba-hubba.”
Lovely.
“What do you do?” I ask.
“I’m a yoga teacher now.”
That explains her sinewy body.
“I really should do more yoga,” I say. She agrees and raves for several minutes about all the benefits of yoga. Then she suggests that Rory and I come for a couples’ yoga session. She just convinced her husband to try it, and it has strengthened their relationship. I don’t want to alienate her, but I really don’t want to do a couples’ yoga session with her supervising. Or even a singles’ yoga session under her direction.
Rory joins us.
She hooks her arm into Rory’s, saying, “I’m trying to persuade Penelope here that you guys should come do a couples’ yoga session with me.”
I’ve been outmaneuvered. Rory looks at me.That look I understand.Channel Willow.
I try to unbutton his sleeve so I can stick my hand up his sleeve, but the button refuses to come undone. Also, she’s still got his other arm. I am just inexplicably messing around with his shirt sleeve. Or we’re having a tug of war over him.Go “all in.”
I hug him tightly. Which is awkward because she’s holding his arm. It also feels very public. I say, “I’m all in for couples’ yoga. Is there a hugging pose?”
“No.” Myrtle purses her lips and pulls her arm away from Rory. “But you do lean on each other.”
“Sounds intriguing.” Rory hugs me back. “Maybe we should try it in the privacy of our own home.” He winks at me. “At least initially anyway. Especially if you’re going to be wearing a yoga leotard.”
Myrtle excuses herself to refresh her drink.
I can’t imagine wearing a yoga leotard.
“The question is, what are you going to be wearing?” I ask.
Rory whispers in my ear, “A suit of armor, especially if Myrtle is supervising.” We separate. A waiter offers us s’mores. We each take one. I manage to eat mine without dropping any on my dress.
Rory’s boss and Bernie return with drinks to discuss the logistics of shooting the campaign in the UK. I try to look gripped by the discussion of permits, but I can’t help looking over at the party scene. I frown. The ad boards have been moved.
Oh no.The “All In, All Good” slogan is hanging above a board for the petroleum gasoline, which has a picture of the gasoline nozzle stuck into a car. It looks like an ad placement fail. That gives the “all in” a sexual connotation that I hadn’t thought of before. I need to move that easel.
