Nara

The second I was back in the office, a blur of red hair rushed me. “On my gosh! How was it? You stayed longer than I thought you would!” Mimi yapped, out of breath.

“God, girl, calm down. Were you on the edge of your chair the whole time I was gone?”

She trotted after me as I headed to my office that wasn’t really an office and sat across from me once I’d settled in.

“So here’s what you missed while you were gone.” She ran down a list of all we had to do that night before we could call it quits.

I buried my head in my hands, ever so slightly buzzed by the alcohol.

“Don’t worry,” she chirped. “We’ll get everything taken care of. When our beta test mommies come in tomorrow, they’ll never know we were scrambling at the last moment in preparation for their kids’ dirty diapers.”

Just as she was wrapping up, Joi barged in, staring at Mimi until she took the hint and split. With the chair vacant, Joi plopped down across from my desk and pulled her long, blond hair over her shoulder to twist the ends like she always did when she was about to be dramatic.

She plopped her feet up on my desk and took a deep breath. “These wedding preparations are killing me.”

“I thought things were under control.”

She threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. “My mom and Jack’s mom are feuding over seating assignments. My shrink says weddings can bring out bad behavior in people, but I never expected this. I should have just handled everything myself, but I wanted to throw them a bone, make them feel important. Involved.”

While she jabbered on about the wedding, I scrolled through my email. Damn, there was already one from Brodie. He didn’t waste any time. I flagged it for later.

“Nara? Nara? Hey, anybody home?” Joi asked.

I looked up from my laptop. “Oh, sorry. What were you asking?”

“I was asking if you picked up your bridesmaid dress yet.”

“Oh, right. I had the final alterations done a couple weeks ago. It’s probably ready.” I scribbled a note to call the shop tomorrow and returned to my email. Joi went back to her wedding talk.

“Shit.” I sighed. “Another email from Simon.” My husband-not-husband.

“That asshole is still coming around?” she asked.

I peered around the wall of my cube to see who was in hearing distance. “Do you want to get some dinner in a half hour or so? I really want to talk but not here.”

Joi, too, peeked around the corner at the office full of people preparing for tomorrow. I was tight with my crew, but I was the boss. They didn’t need to know everything about my private life.

“I’ll swing by in half an hour. You’d better be ready. No last minute emails or calls,” she said.

I held my hands up in surrender. “Fair enough. I will be ready.”

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Joi poked her head into my cube.

“I came early, knowing you’d need that much prodding to get out the door.” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for my resistance.

And she was right. If she didn’t drag me out the door, I’d never leave. Sighing, I stuffed my laptop into my tote so I could do some work at home later, and on the way out I told Mimi not to stay too late. She would stay late though, god love her, and everything would be ready for tomorrow.

Joi and I walked to Fettoosh, a Lebanese place not far from the office. In true New York fashion, diners were still streaming into the place even though it was nearly nine p.m. It was no wonder. Fetoosh always smelled fabulous, and I hadn’t eaten since my street vendor hotdog.

I ordered my usual shish tawook chicken kabobs, and she ordered the same thing she always did, which I could never pronounce. The owner brought us some nice, light Lebanese wine, and we got down to business. I probably didn’t need any more alcohol. But what the hell.

“Okay,” Joi said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Where to start? Okay, first of all, I met the guy I won at the Avenue A fundraiser. We had a drink just a few hours ago.”

Her eyes widened. Already, she was missing the single girl life. Such as it was.

“Tell me…was he a total douche? You know those guys are always douches...” Her face was clearly hoping for a horror story.

I dug into the hummus the waiter had brought to our table. “Honestly…he wasn’t bad.” It actually was disappointing he wasn’t a jerk. Those guys made better date stories.

Joi frowned. “Wait. What? They’re always douches. Who else besides a conceited jackass would think they’re hot enough to have people bid on them in public?”

“I know, right? I totally agree. But he was pretty cool, asked me some questions about myself, seemed smart and hardworking…”

She gave me her best exasperated look. I knew it well. “C’mon. You know what I’m interested in. What the hell did he look like? Spill it!” she demanded.

I hesitated to torment her further, and then leaned forward conspiratorially. “He was about the most freaking handsome guy I’ve ever seen up close and personal. Thick black hair, a little on the long side, square chin with a dimple in the middle, dark, dark eyes with lashes to kill for.”

Joi practically jumped out of her seat.

“And even in my heels, I had to look up at him.” I demonstrated by craning my neck. “He must have been six-four.”

She fell back in her chair, mouth open. Maybe she shouldn’t have been getting married after all.

“Wow. Who woulda thought? Well, you’ll have to see him again. That’s all there is to it.” She gave one of those “done deal” waves of her hand. Easy for her to say. She’d been with Jack since college and their getting married had been a foregone conclusion since then. She had no idea, really, how to date or what it was like.

“Yeah well, that’s not gonna happen. I’m way too busy with the company.” I looked around for the waiter. I was starving. And I wanted to ignore the speech I knew she was about to give me.

“Oh, that’s bullshit, and you know it. Everyone has time for a date now and then,” she snapped.

Why were people who were in relationship always so pushy about making sure everyone else was paired off? It was as if being single was a disease.

“He did ask me to dinner, which I thought was very nice. But I returned to work instead.” The waiter came with my shish tawook. I grabbed my fork so fast I think I scared him.

Joi stared. “Are you crazy? Why the hell didn’t you go?”

“Just didn’t want to. I mean, I’m sure he’s a jerk.” I shrugged. But on the other hand, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had sex. Maybe there would be a benefit to having won an auction date.

“But you just said…” She shook her head and picked up her fork, resigned to my stubbornness. We’d been friends so long she knew not to waste her breath. I never did anything until I was damn good and ready.

She dropped it. “Okay, okay. I give up. So what else is going on?”

I had to tell her. It had been eating at me for days.

“You know Simon, right?” Of course she did. She tried to talk me out of marrying him way back when. I should have listened.

“Ugh. Why aren’t you divorced yet?” She couldn’t stand him, and thought he was no good from the beginning. But what could I say? I had been nearly broke, and ten grand had seemed like all the money in the world at the time.

“I should be divorced by now. But, he’s turned out to be a major asshole.” I sipped my wine. I wasn’t doing any more work today. Who was I kidding?

I continued. “He wants his ten grand back and is threatening to expose me if I don’t pay him. And make the divorce difficult.” I put my fork down, my stomach soured at the thought of him.

Her forkful of food stopped mid-air. “What? How can he do that? He’d just expose himself. He’d be deported.” She leaned toward me for emphasis. “He knows that, doesn’t he? Or is he really that stupid? And how can he keep you from getting divorced?”

I nodded. “He has got to know that, and yet he’s still trying to shake me down. He knows I won’t let anything get in the way of the company’s success. As for the divorce, I guess he could just make it really hard.”

The color drained from her face, and she looked like she’d lost her appetite, too. I hated that she, the company, and our team could be affected by a bad decision I’d made years earlier.

“Can you just pay him?” she asked quietly.

“That was my thought, too. Just get him the hell out of my hair. But one, I don’t have an extra ten grand. I’ve sunk every penny I have into this business. You know that. And two”—I slapped my hand on the table, causing our wine to slosh—“why the hell should I? He got his citizenship. It was a fair exchange.”

I shook my head. “I never should have broken the law. I’m paying for it now. I should have listened to you.”

“Well, yes you should always listen to me. But you didn’t,” she said. “Why do you think he’s coming after you now, instead of just getting the divorce underway?”

I shook my head. “He seems to think I’m making big bucks or something. Little does he know I’ve maxed out my line of credit and that we’re one mistake away from shutting our doors.”

“Little does he know we’re also one investor away from massive success,” she offered. And she was right.

But we’d been down that road many times, gotten our hopes up, only to have investors back out at the last minute for a variety of reasons—they had found a better investment or had just plain changed their minds. The first few times it had happened, I was devastated. I finally learned, however, it was just business. If they didn’t see the value in Mommy Knows, someone else eventually would.

But the fact that Simon was even thinking about undermining all that I’d worked for made me crazy with rage.

Along with our check, the waiter brought us some juicy, sticky baklava for dessert. But I could only play with mine, peeling off the thin layers of pastry until my plate was a thick mess of honey and ground pistachios.

Kind of how I viewed my life at that moment. A big, gooey mess.