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A thought hits me, and I instantly feel guilty for waiting so long. “Wait, Lena?”
“She’s fine, Nessa made sure of it when she picked up the car. She didn’t speak to anyone, and the police haven’t spoken to her since.”
“Good.” I exhale, relief washing through me.
Becca puts the car in park and we get out. Before we make it to the front door, she rests her hand on my elbow. “Hey, you did the right thing.”
She doesn’t say it as comfort, just a fact. I nod but can’t answer. I know I did, but doing the right thing cost me more tonight than I can even process, and I can’t say it out loud yet.
I walk into my duplex and smell the fresh aroma of rosemary and garlic. Mack has made her homemade chicken noodle soup that she usually reserves for when one of us is sick or hurt—I guess a career crisis counts as hurt.
Nessa walks by with a spray bottle in hand. She’s wearing the same beaded bracelet I saw her in the first time I met her at a catered event for a client. She was part of the waitstaff and we both snickered over the phallic-looking ice sculpture. We’ve been stuck together ever since.
She sees me staring at the bottle and stops.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s cedar spray, very grounding. After a day like today, you need it.” She continues on through the house with her spray.
I take off my shoes and put them in the entryway. Mack comes over, grabs my bag, and hangs it up. “I put your favorite pajamas in the dryer to warm them up. Go put them on and come downstairs for some soup.”
There is no room for argument; my body follows the instructions instinctively. I needed that. I grab my softest pajamas, focusing on the task at hand. Once changed, I make my way over to the peninsula to eat the soup when Nessa jumps in.
“No, on the couch. You need a soft landing.” As my brain starts thinking of the logistics of eating hot soup on the couch, Mack pulls out a small TV tray. Where did that come from?
Mack shrugs, hearing the question I didn’t ask. “I like to be prepared.”
I feel their love surround me and let that give me strength for what is to come. I eat my soup while they make idle chatter, letting me listen but not having to engage. Mack talks about the antics of her boyfriend’s daughter, Reece. Her new coach apparently has a … unique approach.
“A brick, can you believe it? I had to run to the arts and supply store to get brick-specific decorations; she has to carry them everywhere she goes! It is supposed to symbolize the weight of her responsibilities … she is eleven!”
Mack has the unique ability to deescalate a tense situation and make it fun. She displayed that talent the first time we met, standing in line at a coffee shop. I was on the verge of a full breakdown because the barista wanted to cut me off from my sixth cup of coffee of the day. Mack eloquently threw out caffeine quotes, which I think she made up, until the man delivered the elixir.
My friends continue on with their banter until I finish my soup, setting my tray to the side. I take a deep breath in, knowing I owe them an explanation.
“I, uh, don’t know how to do this,” I say, not sure how to let them in on something so vulnerable.
Becca reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Yes, you do; handle it however you need to. Sporadic bursts, or like a court debrief, whatever is easiest.”
I nod in understanding and launch into the entire story. I have a client who shared privileged information with me, which led to a two-week suspension. The veiled threat from Cassandra, and rushing over to Lena.
By the time I get it all out, everyone is silent for a beat, letting the situation absorb us.
“Wait, if it was privileged information from a conversation you had at home, how did Cassandra hear about it?” Becca asks the question I have been trying to avoid.
“Oh,” Mack says softly, covering her mouth, visibly in pain for what she is about to reveal. “The guy you were bringing on Saturday, he knew.”
The room goes quiet. I reach for my phone and turn it face up to see a text.
Jackson
Hey, haven’t heard from you today. Everything alright? You disappeared on me. You haven’t answered any of my texts. I wouldn’t worry about the suspension, I’m sure it will blow over soon.
He was three feet away from me in that hallway. He watched me walk out of that building with my coat over my arm and my career in pieces. And his follow-up is “everything alright?”
I turn the phone face down.
7
PHOENIX
