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“Man, that’s a relief,” she’d said, sipping her beer and lounging back in her chair.
“A relief?” I’d repeated. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or offended by her reaction.
“Yeah, you almost got married to that asshole. Oh for sure it sucks you were with him so long. And BFF Cheryl sounds like a bag of soggy dicks. But think about it — you were about to settle into the marriage doldrums with a complete piece of shit. Not to mention that from the sound of it, you haven’t even lived yet!”
“I don’t know about that,” I said defensively.
“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” Mickey challenged. “Name a time you’ve closed your eyes and leaped.”
I couldn’t. I tried, but the highlights of my life up until this point have all been professional and academic achievements. My personal life has always dragged along a fairly predictable path. Brent was successful and handsome and from a good family. I’d supposedly had it all. There’d never been any reason to get wild.
Mickey listed off things on her fingers to further prove her point. “You’ve never had a one-night stand. You’ve never run from the cops. Hell, you’ve never even been to a music festival. And no,” she said over me, “Warped Tour 2009 absolutely does not count. So not only did you dodge a major backwards-ball-cap-wearing bullet, but now you get to try all that stuff you might have regretted missing out on!”
She had a point.
So, as unlikely as it had seemed in Boston, between Mickey’s enthusiasm about my future and hot memories of Nick, I’m starting to feel a bit better about losing Brent. I’m still far from fine, but I’m definitely not checking Instagram as much as I was before. There’s just too much else to think about.
Like our current bagel conundrum.
“Why was I getting a cab?” Mickey repeats my question. “I wasn’t getting a cab. An old lady was. I was helping her into it because the stupid cabbie was rushing her. And then he got mad at me. And then I flipped him off. And then he left and I had to help the lady get another cab which is surprisingly difficult at this time of day. Oh and she was mad at me too.” She considers and says, “You know what? I think your sexy mystery man might actually be right about this city. People are wound way too tightly here.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Don’t even mention him. I’m still annoyed.”
“And I’m still trying to find him on Facebook,” she says. “I need to see if he’s as hot as you’re describing because I’m a little doubtful.”
“It’s true!” I insist. “Like if Pierce Brosnan and Tom Selleck had a baby.”
Mickey’s eyes widen. “And, in this baby scenario, which one of them is, ya know, the carrier?”
I throw a pillow at her but she gracefully dodges around it and flees into our attached kitchen.
“You didn’t get the bagels!” I call after her.
“Room service is bringing them up,” she says, reappearing with a couple coffees and setting one down by my computer. “I guess we’ll take them to go.”
I pull a face. “I’m not sure Dan is going to be happy about us charging the room,” I say.
Dan is our middle-aged boss. An energetic and cheerful man, he’s been in advertising for decades. He’s notoriously tight-fisted though, the side effect of running a shoestring operation.
“Just blame me,” Mickey says. “How was I supposed to know? I’m just a stupid intern. Besides,” she adds, flopping down on the couch next to me, “once you get this pitch in the bag Dan is going to be kowtowing at your feet. How’s it going, anyway?”
My stomach shifts unpleasantly as I picture going up in front of the CEO of Madison Enterprises and trying to sell him on why a small, Boston-based advertising agency is the right choice for making the Seafarer’s maiden voyage a successful one.
“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s done at least. Or as close to done as it’s going to get.”
I know the pitch inside and out but I still can’t shake my nerves. After everything that’s happened recently, I just want this one thing to go well. A successful deal would do wonders for me getting my mojo back, not to mention the four months I’d have to spend in New York would be a welcome break from all the reminders of Brent and Cheryl that are scattered around Boston.
“Evie.” Mickey actually sounds serious for once. She can hear the worry in my tone and she may be irreverent but she’s certainly not unfeeling.
“Hey,” she says so that I look her in the eye. “Did you know that I jumped at the chance to go on this trip with you? And believe me, it’s not because I love fighting with cab drivers. It’s because Evie Davis is a legend at the firm.”
“Oh, come on,” I mumble.
“No. This is not the time to be humble! Who made the reopening of the South Bay Mall the social event of the year? Who’s the reason Stockington Pies are practically synonymous with Boston? And when tourists come to our city, which bar do they go to first?”
“Uh, the Cheers bar?”
“Okay, second.”
