The Overlap (17 page)

Anyway, since I had already showered at Zack’s and also grabbed coffee and a granola bar there I only had to put on fresh clothes and do my makeup and hair in my apartment, but I still didn’t have a lot of time before I had to get over to MetroGen. I did my best to force my thoughts away from the poop-storm that would hit L.A. late tonight when Dustin got back in town, and instead concentrate on trying to stay one or two steps ahead of Dave Evers and his bad mood. And even though I was mustering my courage for the confrontation with Dustin, I was also still toying with the idea of asking Dave to send me to some out-of-town project that was in trouble and needed help over the weekend to totally sidestep the showdown. Sure, that would be a cowardly approach but a big part of me still felt like running away from L.A. for the weekend even as Dustin was on his way home.

My morning was filled with – stop me if you’ve heard this one before – one meeting after another, but Kensington, Courtney, and I were able to all coordinate our lunch schedules for the first time in like two weeks. Instead of our regular standby – baguettes from the French bakery – we decided to walk over to
Cerise
for lunch since it was just around the corner. Fortunately I wasn’t subjected to any Dave Evers incidents during the morning – he was in the 9:00 stand-up but none of my other meetings – so by lunchtime at least I didn’t have any fresh angst from that side to deal with.

I wound up with fish tacos again, just like dinner last night, and while enjoying my lunch I caught Courtney up on where things stood with Zack and Dustin. Kensie already knew much of the story first-hand, of course, and she had already related most of that to Courtney. Still, I spent much of my narrative on last night right here with Zack and afterwards at his apartment.

Ordinarily, at least some of our chatter would have veered towards the down and dirty details of sex with Zack. You know: how good; how long he lasted; how big... that sort of thing. But I think with the specter of my impending breakup with Dustin hanging over me, my friends realized I wasn’t really in the right mood to delve into the typical lusty gossip about a new guy. Still, even with the “Dustin situation” looming, I couldn’t help but feel some sense of euphoria as I talked about Zack, his business, our dates, and at least the surface details of sex with him.

As our lunch break neared its end, though, the conversation inevitably shifted to my specific plans for breaking the news to Dustin. Courtney asked me first:

“So are you going to tell him the moment you see him tonight?”

I thought for a moment and realized that I hadn’t actually formulated out a plan yet... and in fact, Dustin’s flight schedule was actually a major complication to what I had decided to do.

“I honestly don’t know,” I replied, “and in fact I think I have a big problem. His flight doesn’t land at LAX until 11:30 which means he won’t get up to Beverly Hills until well after midnight after getting his luggage and car, and I guess he plans to just show up at my apartment.”

Both Kensie and Courtney immediately zoomed in on what I was thinking.

“So you have to break up with him at like one o’clock in the morning?” Kensie asked. Even though we had talked and even sort-of-argued yesterday during lunch about Dustin’s surprise return, I guess I hadn’t mentioned how late on Friday night he was getting in.

“Right when he walks into your apartment?” Courtney added.

I didn’t answer either of my friends right away; my head was whirling trying to formulate a plan as the panicky feeling from this morning that had been tamped down a bit throughout the morning not only returned, it slammed into me like a Category 5 hurricane.

Kensie noticed my panic, and just knew what had specifically jumped into my thoughts.

“If he comes over at 1:00 in the morning, you don’t have a choice but to do it immediately, right? There’s no way you can just invite him in and not break up with him; you know, get into bed with him and then wait until the morning; no
way
will that happen without you having sex with him.”

I still didn’t answer.

“Maybe you should text him right before his flight leaves,” Courtney interjected, “and tell him that since it’s so late he should just go to his place and you’ll see him early Saturday morning. This way you can tell him then.”

What Courtney said actually made sense and in the course of only about two or three seconds, my mind played out that little scenario. The only flaw I could see was that Dustin might insist on coming over anyway, even though it would be so late, because he had been gone for so long and was only going to be back here in L.A. for two nights... which meant that
not
coming over to my place Friday night would effectively cut his time with me in half.

Again, Kensie seemed to be reading my mind.

“Just be firm with him,” Kensie said, as if I had already said that I agreed Courtney’s plan was the way to go... which I hadn’t, even though at this point it was the one closest to being a good one. “Tell him that you had a really bad day or you’re not feeling well or whatever, and that you’ll see him in the morning. But do
not
let him into your apartment tonight!”

Kensington paused, looked at me, and then added:

“Or go over to
his
apartment either,” as if I were the type to look for loopholes in something I told one of my friends. I might be indecisive sometimes, but I had never been one to tell a friend or boyfriend or anyone else that I would do something or that I agreed with some particular point but at the same time choose my words very carefully so as to allow myself a loophole to do exactly the opposite.

I was mildly irritated with Kensie, the same as yesterday, but I could see where she was coming from and that she was only thinking of my best interests.

“I get it,” was all that I replied, accompanying a nod of my head.

Courtney flicked on the screen of her cell phone to check the time. Though she rotated through some really nice watches with her work outfits every day – a Michele, two different Chanels, and a Cartier – even dating back to training in Miami last year none of us ever saw her look at whatever watch she was wearing. Instead, she never failed to check her cell phone for the time.

“We better get back,” Kensie said even before Courtney could offer the same sentiment. We were about fifteen minutes out from our next meeting that the three of us all needed to attend together but we hadn’t paid the check yet, and in fact about half of my lunch was still sitting uneaten. I was hungry but at the same time not hungry; that queasy-stomach feeling caused by nerves and anxiety. I had certainly done the majority of the talking during lunch, which meant that my mouth was occupied with speaking rather than chewing, but truthfully I couldn’t finish the last taco or most of my cilantro rice. I thought about asking for a box and stashing the leftovers in one of the MetroGen break room refrigerators, but instead decided to just leave the rest of my food rather than take it.

Fortunately our waitress came over to bring the check, and when I locked eyes with her as I handed her the money that the three of us had already thrown in to pay for lunch and a tip, for the first time I noticed that she was the same woman who had waited on Zack and me last night. She must have also just recognized me from last night, because she said:

“Weren’t you in here last night with that really good-looking guy?”

I could feel myself blushing a little bit as I nodded.

She was about to say something else then looked at my friends and abruptly stopped talking; as if she wasn’t quite sure if further complementing me on the hot guy I was with, or asking me about him, or anything else was okay to say in front of the other two. For all she knew they could be clients, not co-workers or friends, and personal talk of this nature could be taboo at the moment.

“They’re my friends, we work together,” I nodded towards Kensie and Courtney. “They know about the guy; in fact the three of us were right here together last week when I met him.”

Then I abruptly stopped talking. I had no idea who this waitress was. Maybe she had noticed Zack herself before last night and had her eyes on him. Why give away too much information? With good friends like Kensie and Courtney I might say a lot, but I’ve always been cautious about saying too much about a guy I’m with or interested in to some other girl in casual conversation. I mean, if this waitress was one of those girls who get a thrill out of stealing a guy away who is involved with someone else, why give her any information at all about Zack?

“You two make a good couple,” was all the waitress said, though, as I indicated that we didn’t need any change back from the $50 I had just handed her and she turned to leave. As we got up from the table, Kensie said to me:

“You really do, you know.”

For a fraction of a second I didn’t grab the context of Kensington’s words; that she was seconding what the waitress had just said. Before I could respond, Courtney added:

“Yeah; you do.”

I looked over at Courtney, and then at Kensington, as the three of us headed towards the front door of
Cerise
and the beautiful Beverly Hills mid-day brightness. Even as I was wishing we didn’t have to go back to work for the afternoon, and even as part of my mind was still enveloped in a low-grade panic attack about what exactly I was going to say to Dustin and when, I couldn’t help but feel happy about what my two friends and this waitress who I didn’t even know had just said. My mind took flight to San Francisco and instantly brought up an image of Zack Buchanan seated on a stage with several other polished, articulate movie marketing types, doing the first of his panel sessions that had taken him away from me for the weekend. In this little movie in my mind, though, when Zack’s session had finished and after he was done milling about and chatting with fawning audience members, he exited the auditorium with me on his arm and we walked out into the late afternoon San Francisco breeziness to celebrate his successful appearance.

We
do
make a good couple, I thought as I omnisciently watched myself walk arm in arm with Zack Buchanan. For the duration of our short walk in the real world back to MetroGen, the satisfaction of this imagined stroll with Zack helped keep my anxiety at bay.

*     *     *

Friday afternoon passed uneventfully, even though Dave Evers was in the same meeting between 3:00 and 4:00 that I was. He seemed to be in a better mood today than yesterday – at least he wasn’t being a total jerk today – but by the time 3:00 had rolled around, I had dismissed the idea of asking Dave about some sort of impromptu weekend assignment. Beyond the fact that at this late point it would be nearly impossible for such an assignment to be lined up, I began to think that I would be setting a horrible precedent not only with Dave Evers personally but with the firm as a whole. I really liked my job and all that, but to me my job and career had to be kept in balance with other aspects of my life... particularly relationships. And the last thing I wanted was to acquire a reputation as somebody with no personal life, or someone who will drop whatever Saturday or Sunday plans she has on a moment’s notice to work all weekend...
any
weekend, whenever and wherever she might be needed.

So with that stupid idea off the table, I really had no reason to engage in any discussion with Dave Evers this Friday afternoon past offering a perfunctory “have a good weekend” as the 4:00 meeting broke up. When I said that, Dave did shoot me a puzzled, almost disdainful look as if I had said that because right then and there I was leaving for the afternoon, and he looked like he was going to say something nasty to me. But he must have caught himself when Kensington – who was also in that meeting – came over and asked me what conference room our next meeting was in. I flicked my cell phone to the calendar and showed her the screen, and we left Dave Evers – who I knew wasn’t in that meeting – behind, maybe even thankful he had choked off making some sort of snarky “leaving early today?” remark.

That last meeting did end at 4:30, though, and just like this time last Friday I was free as a bird as I slipped out of the MetroGen offices for the last time this week. Unlike last Friday, though, when I immediately scrambled to see if I could change my nail appointment to a sooner time, tonight I had no immediate plans after work. Kensie offered to go with me someplace nearby for Happy Hour, but I knew from our lunchtime conversation that she had already planned a long drive up to Calabasas to spend the weekend at home with her family since her brother Jeff was going to be there all weekend. She only had 25 miles to cover but during Friday afternoon rush hour, up both the 405 and 101, that could easily take an hour and a half... even longer if there were any accidents, something all but inevitable. And I didn’t like the idea of Kensington making that drive with even one or two drinks in her. Traffic wouldn’t be moving that fast, but reaction time would be very important as the L.A. drivers on the road with her zipped from one lane to another, even in stop-and-go traffic.

I thanked her but declined her offer, and I could tell she was secretly grateful. I mean, all she would really be doing was keeping me company on sort of a death watch for my relationship with Dustin, right? We had talked the whole thing out during lunch yesterday and today; there wasn’t anything new to say. So as much as I would have loved her company as I did my best to gather my strength for what I had to do, the right thing was for her to get on the road and get home to the Valley and help her parents deal with her brother and his problems.

Courtney had a date tonight; some guy she had already gone out with six or seven times before, a stockbroker a year older than her. She had slept with him a couple times already but he sort of ditched her over the summer, always coming up with some excuse or another why he wasn’t available. By mid-August she had written him off but he had called her on Tuesday, asking her to dinner at some new place over in Santa Monica. Both Kensington and I had been on the side of telling the guy to get lost. We were all but certain he had hooked up with someone else but now that other relationship must be over, so he was recycling through girls he had gone out with. But Courtney said that in regards to him she was pretty much interested only in a really nice dinner that he would pay for and maybe some no-strings-attached sex, so why not? Kensie and I each reluctantly agreed that as long as Courtney maintained the upper hand – even if she did wind up in bed with him – and didn’t get herself hurt in the process, then sure; why not?