MADELEINE
I forgot to ask Adam what he needs me to do for him. I just accepted his proposal and hung up before he could go into details. Armed robbery, midnight séances, free tax preparation—I’m prepared for anything. I even consider for a moment that he might be asking for help at the veterinary practice, so I watched a cow birthing video on YouTube and only threw up in my mouth once. That’s how badly I want to sell him a house.
Friday night, I’m sitting at Daisy’s house with Mouse, watching old movies and scrolling through Tinder profiles. Daisy likes doing it with me since she never used dating apps herself.
“Oh, God no!” she says, swiping past yet another prospective mate.
“He wasn’t half bad!” I snap, trying desperately to claw the phone out of her hand.
“He was posing in front of a cherry red Corvette in his profile picture. What kind of guy does that?”
Sure, his picture screamed insecure douchebag, but if I swiped past every guy who didn’t perfectly meet my specifications, it would just be me and Mouse growing old together.
Daisy doesn’t believe me.
“There are going to be better prospects, you just wait.”
My phone buzzes in her hand with an incoming text and from the look on her face, I know it’s not from my mom. Since I’m currently with her, I know it’s not from Daisy, and that rules out the only two people who text me on a regular basis.
“One new text from Adam Foxe?!” she exclaims.
I try, yet again, to snatch the phone away from her, but she holds it over her head. Mouse leaps to his feet and starts to bark, assuming this is all some spontaneous game.
“Hand over the phone, Daisy,” I snap in a very authoritative, very no-nonsense tone.
It only makes her laugh as she starts to read the text aloud.
“Hey Madeleine, it’s Adam. I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow around 11:30 AM.”
I pretend not to care, sitting very still with my arms crossed on the other end of the couch. She can read all the text messages she wants; she’s not going to get any information out of me.
“Adam is texting you.”
“Yes.”
“Adam the vet?”
I shrug.
“Why is he texting you? And why is he picking you up tomorrow?”
I’m very good at the silent game—being the younger sister to a brother as annoying as mine meant it was an absolute necessity as a child.
“And why did he put a kissy-face and heart-eyes emoji?”
“Really?”
“Ha! That was a trick. So is he taking you out on a date or what?”
I pretend to pick dirt out from beneath my nails. Then I shine them on my shoulder.
“You’re not being funny,” she says, finally tossing my phone back to me.
“Ha!” I snap as I open the text again and read it for myself. It reads exactly as she’d recited, sans kissy-faces. I’m slightly disappointed that he isn’t revealing more information.
I decide to push my luck and text him back.
Madeleine: What if I’m busy tomorrow afternoon?
Daisy leaps off the couch and leans over my shoulder so she can try to read what I’m typing. I block her view just as my phone vibrates again. He replied quickly, faster than most guys usually do. Normally I have to sit and stare at my phone for at least thirty minutes before guys get around to texting me back, usually more. It’s torture, and I’m glad Adam doesn’t try to play those stupid games. Then it hits me that maybe he does play those games with girls he’s actually interested in. It’s not like we’re texting about an actual date after all.
Adam: Then unfortunately, there’s no deal.
Madeleine: Wow. Is this like a Chicago mobster thing? Are we sinking a body into Lake Michigan?
Adam: No. Sorry, I just really need your help.
Madeleine: Care to elaborate on it then?
Daisy shakes my shoulders, trying to get me to show her what we’re saying. Naturally, she makes me send Adam a string of gibberish by accident.
Madeleine: [email protected]#
Adam: What?
Madeleine: Ignore that.
Adam: I can’t go into much detail. It might scare you away.
The cow birth video plays through my mind again and my stomach turns over. It’s definitely that. I’m going to have to put my arms up a cow’s vagina tomorrow just so I can sell him a house. Do other agents have to go to these same lengths to earn a commission?
Madeleine: Okay fine. I’ll send over my address.
Adam: Great, see you then.
Madeleine: WAIT. What should I wear? A dress? Jeans? Hazmat suit?
Adam: Just something casual that you wouldn’t mind getting a little dirty.
Oh sweet Jesus.
Adam: Oh, and Mouse is invited too.
“Ha!” Daisy shouts just as she tears my phone out of my hand. She also takes the top layer of skin off my thumb. Very polite.
“Have you ever heard of a little privacy?!” I shout, but it’s no use. She’s already reading our text exchange, no doubt inserting feelings and double meanings where none belong.
“Did he ask you out on a surprise date or something?” she asks, tossing me back my phone once she’s finished.
I shouldn’t reward her terrible best friend behavior, but there’s no point in being stubborn. Daisy will wear me down eventually, just like she did with my brother.
“No, as a matter of fact, it’s not a date.”
“So…you two are hanging out as friends?”
I narrow my gaze on her, taking in her perfect skin and bright blonde hair. Sure, now she’s in pajamas, but normally she’s put together in fancy business clothes underneath her crisp white coat. Daisy has her life together. She’s a doctor and she’s married. She has her own house, and pretty soon she’ll probably start popping out my nieces and nephews. It’s because of this that I can’t tell her the honest truth—that I, Madeleine Thatcher, have hit an all-new low. I am all but prostituting myself in the name of real estate. Daisy won’t understand. She’ll tell me to quit, to get a new job. She thinks I’m talented and “going places”. She doesn’t seem to understand that the only place I’m headed is the poorhouse if I don’t earn a commission soon.
“It’s nothing,” I say, standing and finding Mouse’s leash. “Can we just drop it?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I’m surprised she’s willing to cooperate—my expression must look particularly desperate. On my way to the door, she can’t help but ask one more time, “You’d tell me if it was a date, right?”
Fortunately, she can’t see me pinch my eyes closed in distress. “It’s definitely not a date.”