Chapter Three
The Proposition
“What the hell does a man need so many bottles of fucking shampoo for?” Bell asks as she drags her orange rubber squeegee down the glass shower door.
“I don’t know; he’s a model,” I respond, as if that in itself is a plausible explanation. “I’m going to get started on the kitchen, you can finish up in here.”
“Sure thing, boss lady,” she says. “See? This is awesome. Us taking on the world one piss stained toilet at a time.” She holds the squeegee in the air like a baton.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t leave any streaks,” I grin, turning towards the door of the luxurious en suite in the condo that we are currently cleaning.
After I got home from Tully and Dan’s on Saturday morning, I spent most of my day running errands and picking up supplies. Because Dust Bunnies doesn’t technically have an office, I rent out an extra storage room in the basement of my building and keep extra products in there. Each of my employees has their own caddy and is responsible for keeping it well stocked. I’ve lucked out in having stellar employees so far and I hope to keep it that way. Three of them are college students and able to work around their class schedules to accommodate our clients and the other two have been with me since I first started. They’d both had hotel experience and wonderful recommendations when I was first hiring.
I pull on my yellow rubber gloves and open the fridge, taking everything out and placing it neatly on the counter when the front door opens.
“Who wants non-fat vanilla bean lattes?” Kyle sings with his southern accent as he walks through the door and kicks it shut behind him.
He’s the owner of the condo and also a friend. I started cleaning for him about four months ago. I was leaving the apartment across the hall one day when he was just leaving his. At first glance I remember thinking he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. His hair was perfectly styled, his intentional scruff groomed to perfection. His gorgeous green eyes held me frozen in place until he broke the silence by telling me that I had a wad of dirty paper towel stuck to my shoe. We chatted briefly and one thing led to another. Of course, Kyle turned out to be gay. So instead of getting married and immediately having five gorgeous babies, he offered me a job cleaning his condo and we became friends.
“I do!” Bell shouts from the bathroom. “And you better have some full fat muffins too!”
He sets the tray of coffees and the paper bag containing the requested muffins on the counter and slowly surveys me head to toe.
“Poppy, honey, I know y’all are elbows deep in my filth right now, but you really need to get all of this together,” he says, gesturing to, well, all of me. “You still look so damn sad all the time.”
“Ugh, tell me about it,” I say, plucking a chocolate chip muffin from the bag and taking a very un-lady like bite. “I’m working on it,” I mumble.
“Kyle, what’s with all the damn shampoo? You don’t even have that much hair,” Bell says, entering the room.
“Different shampoo for different moods, my love,” he says thoughtfully. “Hold that thought,” he pulls his vibrating cell from his pocket and steps into the other room.
“It’s such a shame that man is gay,” Bell says, her eyes plastered to his ass as he walks away.
“Down girl,” I snort, taking a sip of my coffee. “You might as well help me out here while he’s in there.”
“Slave driver,” she mutters, setting her coffee down.
I chuck a pair of gloves at her and we get to work. We’re just packing up when Kyle finally emerges, a look of doom resting on his handsome face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as he shuffles to the island and drops into one of the black leather bar stools. He rests his head on the countertop and whimpers.
“My family,” he mumbles.
I set my caddy down on the kitchen floor and take the seat next to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. Kyle doesn’t often talk about his family but I know they are wealthy and very conservative. Apparently they come from a long line of old southern money. His father recently retired from the law firm that his great grandfather founded, giving Kyle’s older brother the reins as senior partner. None of them know that Kyle is gay. His father apparently had a hard enough time when Kyle ditched college to take up modeling and he’s afraid that if he adds being gay to the mix, it’ll just be too much. His parents and older brother live in Georgia.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s my Mimi’s eighty-fifth birthday this month and my parents want to take her to Maui. They want the whole family to go,” he says, lifting his head up.
“What’s a Mimi, and why is going to Hawaii a bad thing?” Bell asks.
“My grandmother. And vacations are always a bad thing when it comes to the Edwards family. No one knows how to relax, and I have to watch everything I say. My father throws jabs at me whenever he can, my brother has a stick up his ass the size of Kansas and my mother will just pretend everything is fan-fucking-tastic. It’s exhausting,” he says. “Not to mention the ever present criticism for being single. Because I’m not in an office working eighty hours a week, I apparently have no excuse for not being married to a sorority princess and impregnating her with the Edwards seed.”
“Ew,” Bell says.
“Can’t you just say you have to work?” I offer.
“Ugh, I can’t. I made the mistake of telling my mother last time we spoke that I don’t have another job lined up until next month in Paris. She’ll know I’m lying and then begins the guilt trip,” he sighs. “Adding to all of this, the minute my mother sees that I’m still single, she insists on setting me up. She means well, but I swear to God if I have to gently let down another doe-eyed debutante, I am going to rip my face off.”
“Well, maybe you could take George with you and just pretend you’re friends. He could offer moral support and at least you’d have someone to enjoy the sights with,” I suggest.
George has been Kyle’s boyfriend for the last two years. He’s a social worker and the sweetest guy on the planet. He comes from a large Mexican family and he’s also very openly gay. I know it’s put a strain on their relationship at times that Kyle hides his sexuality.
“The last time I dragged George to a family function was last Christmas in Aspen. My mother tried to set us both up the entire time we were there. You should have seen his face while my mother was handing him Post-it notes with phone numbers of family friends that have single daughters. He told me he refuses to pretend we aren’t a couple and he won’t come to any more family events unless I come out. He just doesn’t get it; his family is so laid back.”
“So take Poppy with you,” Bell suggests with a shrug. “She can be your girlfriend. That’ll keep your family off your back about being single.”
“What?”
“Yes!”
“No way,” I deny. “I can’t just up and leave! And as if your family would buy us as a couple; I’m way too old for you.”
“They totally would,” he scoffs. “And you’re not too old. Please do this for me, Poppy. I can’t go alone,” he pleads.
“I’m a terrible liar; they would see right through me,” I reason.
“That is true. You are terrible at lying,” Bell agrees.
“See? You should take Bell. That’s far more believable,” I argue.
“No way,” Bell says. “You’re the one who needs a facelift on their life. Besides, I’ve got gigs lined up for the next two weeks.”
“You’d hardly even have to speak,” Kyle says. “The Edwards family is like a group of cyborgs. You could just sit and smile, occasionally show me a little P.D.A. to make it believable, and that’s it.”
I can’t believe it, but I feel myself beginning to waver.
“I’ll pay for your trip,” he says. “I’ll fly you first class.”
“She’ll do it!” Bell says.
“What? No, I need to think about this.”
“What’s to think about, Pop? You said it yourself, you’re in a slump,” she says. “You need something; this could be good for you.”
I look at the two sets of puppy dog eyes staring back at me. “I will think about it. Okay?”
“Yes!” they say collectively before high fiving.
“Just let me know as soon as you can,” Kyle says. “We’d be leaving next Sunday.”
“Great,” I mumble.
*
After I drop Bell off at her apartment, I decide to take the long way home. Driving always helps me clear my head. I turn on café classics, feeling the need for something moody. Ani DeFranco wafts through the speakers as my mind rewinds all the way back to the day I like to refer to as “the day I realized Todd is a lying piece of shit.”
I hang up my phone after reminding Bell for the ten thousandth time that she needs to pick up her bridesmaid dress from the seamstress as I walk into the lobby of the building where Todd’s firm is located. I go through security and make my way to the elevator, I’m so excited I can hardly contain myself. After weeks of back and forth, I finally got a confirmation today from the manager of the jazz band that Todd wanted for the reception.
As I take the elevator up to share the news with my fiancé in person, I realize that we are officially in crunch mode. Two months doesn’t seem like that long when I think of all the things I still need to accomplish before the wedding. Final fitting for my gorgeous wedding dress, seating charts, guest favours, bachelorette party. Just thinking about everything exhausts me. But it will all be worth it, because in two months I’m going to be married to Todd and we can start our life together.
The elevator chimes, removing me from my mental to-do list. I step out and turn down the long corridor until I reach the reception area.
“Hey Jana,” I say, smiling at the main receptionist. “I’ve got some good news to share with Todd, is he in?”
“He should be,” she says. “If not, Tanya can track him down for you.”
“Perfect, thanks!”
I head down the hallway, towards Todd’s corner office. I see Tanya’s desk is empty, she probably just went to the bathroom. I knock on Todd’s door and poke my head in. Empty.
“Hey Poppy, are you looking for Todd?” Mark, one of the new interns asks.
“Yeah, is he in a meeting?”
“I saw him in the copy room ten minutes ago, he’s probably still there if you don’t catch him on his way back.”
I know my way through the office, having been here for numerous functions and holiday parties. I’m surprised to find the door to the copy room closed, since it’s usually propped open. I reach for the handle and pull the door open. And that’s when I see it. My entire world shatters around me as I watch my fiancé jack hammer his assistant Tanya, whose naked ass is resting on top of the big white copy machine.
Bile climbs up my throat as unshed tears burn my eyes. I want to look away but I can’t. I want to cry, but the tears won’t fall. A pathetic noise makes its way up my throat and that’s when he looks over at me. His face red from exertion. Shock flashes across his features. Features that I once thought were handsome but in this moment make me sick to my stomach. He stops jack hammering Tanya but it takes her a good couple of long seconds to realize why. She looks over at me and doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. And that’s when I have what I can only describe as an out-of-body experience. I begin to pick up random items from the shelf beside me. Scotch tape dispensers, cubes of Post-its, anything I can get my hands on. I violently hurl the items one by one. I can vaguely hear Todd yelling at me to stop amid Tanya’s shrieks of horror. I don’t stop until Todd’s head snaps back and blood begins to pour from his nose.
“What the fuck, Poppy?! You’ve lost your damn mind!” he shouts.
I wordlessly turn on my heel and leave. I shut the door behind me and manage to keep my expression neutral until I make it back to my Jeep, where I fall apart.
Later that night, Todd came by my apartment with his brother. For protection, I assume. I sat silently on the sofa while he gathered the few belongings that he kept at my place. When he reached for the boxed DVD set of Lost sitting on the television stand, I growled at him like a wild dog claiming a bone. Fuck you, asshole. If anyone is going to finish binge watching the last two seasons, it’s me. He sighed and turned to face me, his eyes dark and his nose swollen beneath a white bandage.
“How long?” I ask him.
“A while.”
“Why? Why did you propose? Was any of this fucking real, or was it just in my head?”
“Look, I’m just not ready to be tied down,” he says.
“But why did you ask me? At least give me that.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he says.
There’s no apology, no assurance that I’m not to blame. There’s no Band-Aid to make this better. Todd doesn’t want to marry me. Maybe he never really wanted me at all.
“Get the fuck out of my apartment before I rip your dick off.”
Not my finest moment, but in my defense, I was in shock. The days that followed were a blur of cancellations and trying to reclaim deposits. When I think back on it now, I realize that had I been paying closer attention to my relationship and less attention to wedding details, I would have noticed the distance between us. I would have noticed that despite being engaged, we still weren’t living together. And I would have noticed that it had been months since we’d last had sex. I was wrapped up in a fantasy with a man who didn’t give a shit. Maybe he loved me at some point; maybe he didn’t.
And that was it. The beginning of the end, I suppose. The day I fell flat on my face and couldn’t remember how to pick myself back up.