Your Big Break (18 page)

“I'm close.” Sean lowers his voice conspiratorially. “There are a lot of encrypted files on Dad's computer. Here's what I've found out so far: Dad placed a personal ad on
Match.com
last November. Between November and January, he got six responses.”

“A whopping six responses. I guess Father's not too popular with the online ladies.”

“This isn't a time to joke, Dani,” Sean says, and for the first time I realize how hard all of this is hitting him. My brother has always been a goofball who cracks jokes and makes light of every situation. Now we seem to have switched places. I'm the one who's acting like a child, and Sean's the one being mature.

“From what I can tell, Gretchen is the youngest person who answered his ad.”

Typical. He went for the ripest piece he could find.
“What about the chat rooms?” I prod. “Did he meet many women there?”

“I don't think so. Ever since January, his efforts have been focused solely on Gretchen.” Sean pauses. “I think he's in love with her.”

I freeze. “No, that can't be right.”

“Dani, I've read their e-mails. He calls her his soul mate.”

This is much worse than I imagined. “You think he's being serious?”

“Yes.”

“Then we've got to tell Mom. We can't wait any longer.”

“I know.”

It's as if someone's knocked the wind out of me, as though I've been run over by a truck. For a long moment, both of us are too depressed to speak. “How are we going to do it?” I finally ask.

“I'll confront Dad, and you come clean with Mom. That way, neither of them will feel like they're being ganged up on.”

Confronting Father is arguably the tougher of the two tasks. “When would we do it?”

“The sooner the better,” Sean says. “When's your coworker going to dump Dad?”

“Friday,” I tell him. “Day after tomorrow.”

“Then we do it tomorrow.”

“But we're supposed to have our Thursday family dinner!” I say. “The first one in a whole month!”

“It's now or never, Dani.”

“When you put it that way, never!”

Sean sighs. “I know you don't want to do this, but it's necessary.”

“I know.” I feel my eyes well up. “But part of me wishes we could just ignore this and hope it goes away.”

“Life doesn't work that way. Besides,
after
Dad gets dumped, his whole demeanor may change. It'll be easier to deny the affair once he and Gretchen have officially broken up. We've got to reach Mom before it happens. She needs to have all the facts so she can make an informed decision about whether she wants to work to save their marriage.”

“How are we going to tell them we found out?” I ask. “We can't mention Your Big Break Inc.!” I don't want to come clean about my job now. No way.

“We'll tell them I was on Dad's computer and I stumbled across the files.”

That's not bad.
“What were you doing on his computer? You've got one of your own.”

“His Internet connection's faster. I'll say I was downloading med-school applications. Mom gets so excited whenever I talk about becoming a doctor.”

“True.” I lower my head, focusing on an invisible spot on the floor. “I can't believe we're going to do this. It would have been nice to have one last family dinner,” I say. “Before the world as we know it comes crashing to an end.”

“Trust me,” Sean says, “it already has.”

19

Seeing Other People

I feel like a cop who knocks on someone's door and tells them their loved one has died.

I barely slept last night. I'm bogged down with second thoughts, sick with anxiety.
Why did I make this deal with Sean?
Initially, I thought I had come out on top, agreeing to have The Conversation with Mom. But the more I mull it over, the more I realize I got the short end of the stick. True, Sean has to confront Father. He has to tell him point blank that he knows about the affair. Not an easy task, but if you break it down, it's not so bad: Father will be shocked, angry, defensive. But he won't get hurt. He won't feel betrayed.

Mom, on the other hand, will be devastated.

She will totally break down. There's a good chance she'll become physically ill.

I grab a bottle of Pepto-Bismol on my way out the door and shove it into my purse. I arrive at the office forty minutes late. Fortunately, no one's around to notice. That's good. I don't really feel like seeing anyone. I sit down at my desk and listen to my voicemail messages. The first one's from Evan Hirschbaum, informing me that he's got a new job for us. He's grown tired of his latest love, a nineteen-year-old salesgirl from Urban Outfitters. His taste is getting younger by the day. If his pattern holds, the next gal pal will be in junior high school, and he'll be beyond our help.

I have messages from other clients, and one from Krista. Normally, I'd take care of business first, personal calls second. But my mind's so scattered that I just don't care. I call Krista back.

“Fintane Catering, Krista speaking.”

“Hi, it's me.”

“Hi, Dani! Guess what?”

I massage my forehead in an effort to ward off a budding headache. I'm at a total loss. My brain is fried. “Honestly, Krista, I'm drawing a blank.”

“Jason Dutwiler called this morning and asked me on a date!” she squeals. “We're going out this Saturday.”

“That's great!” I say, leaning back in my desk chair. “Where's he taking you?”

“To see an exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts. Afterwards, we're going for dinner in North Boston.”

“Not bad, not bad at all.” I'm impressed. Jason Dutwiler's stock just went up.

Her tone changes. “I'm almost afraid to ask you this.”

“Ask away.” I twirl the phone cord around my fingers, tangling and untangling it.

“I want you to give it to me straight: What's wrong with him?”

I'm exhausted. I need a giant cup of coffee. I look to see when my first breakup of the day is scheduled. Can I wait that long? Krista intrudes on my thoughts.

“He seems too good to be true,” she says. “He's sweet, funny, smart. What am I missing here? Why is a great guy like Jason still on the market?”

“He's only been on the market a few weeks,” I remind her.

“He's got a great job, he's well traveled, and he
recycles
,” Krista argues.

“I didn't know you were so passionate about the environment,” I say and stifle a yawn. “Look, Jason's a decent guy. There's nothing wrong with him.”

“Are you
sure
?”

“He's clingy,” I admit. “That's the extent of it, as far as I know.”

“Dani,” Krista hesitates, “there's something else. A favor I need to ask.”

“Okay, shoot.”

She gulps. “I like Jason a lot, and I want things to go well. We've gotten along on the phone, but sometimes it's different in person. What if we run out of stuff to talk about? What if we just sit there and stare at each other all night?”

“That's not going to happen,” I assure her, rubbing my head.

“I just wish I knew a little bit more about him.”

Here we go
. I've got a pretty good feeling where this is headed. “Let me guess, you want me to give you an inside scoop?” I rub my temples harder. My head's killing me.

“Well, I know you've got a file on him—”

“It's confidential,” I jump in. I reach into my desk and grab my bottle of Advil out of the top drawer. I take out two pills and pop them into my mouth, downing them without water.

“I know Jason's file is confidential,” Krista says. “I don't want you to read it to me or anything. But I thought maybe you could casually glance at it and, you know, if your eyes just so
happen
to land on anything interesting, you could share it with me.”

I don't say anything.

“Please, Dani! I
swear
I won't divulge where it came from.”

On autopilot, I boot up my computer and open Jason's file. Krista's my best friend, but client confidentiality comes first. I'll just give her something innocent, harmless. I read over the notes from our first meeting. “Jason loves Red Sox baseball,” I say. “And he's not into the New-Age, vegan lifestyle. That's the best I can do.”

“Thanks, Dani!” she sounds genuinely pleased.

“I've got a lot of work to do.”

“Is everything okay? You sound kind of down.”

I debate whether or not to tell her about having The Conversation with my mom. I don't want to ruin her mood. “I'm tired,” I lie. “That's all.”

 
 
“How are you gonna do it?” I ask Trey later that afternoon.

“Do what?” Trey asks.

“You're handling Gretchen Monaghan's case, aren't you?”

Amanda abruptly stops typing. Trey motions to me, and we walk down the hall to his office. I follow him inside and shut the door behind me. “I thought you might want a little privacy,” he says. “Amanda's been nosing around through all my client files.”

I make a face. “That's annoying.”

“She's eager. Craig likes that.” Trey sits down on the corner of his desk. “So is it true? Is she really your father's girlfriend?”

“Mistress,” I correct. “My parents are still married.”

“That's what Craig said.” He folds his hands in his lap. “Don't worry. Gretchen doesn't have any idea about the connection.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

We stare at each other for a moment, and then Trey says, “I'll show up at Merriwether Payne Investments tomorrow afternoon and let him have it.”

I wince.
Let him have it
. I shake the guilt out of my head. My father's getting only what he deserves.

“I'm going to be honest,” Trey continues. “Tell him she's leaving because he's married.”

I chew on the corner of my nail. “Are you going to be tough on him?”

He laughs. “No more than usual.”

Trey and I have different philosophies when it comes to ending relationships. I try to let people down easy, sugarcoating the truth so it doesn't hurt so much. Trey doesn't hold any punches. He believes in being brutally honest. “People can spend their whole lives wondering why their lover left,” he told me once. “If I'm in the position to give them the real reason, I've got an obligation to do it. People deserve to know the truth, no matter how ugly it is. That's the only way they can move on.” I see where he's coming from, but I just don't have the heart to be so in-your-face honest.

“I wonder how my father will react,” I say.

“No telling,” Trey says. “Everyone's different.”

“You've got that right.” Being the bearer of bad news all the time wears you down. It's strange to see people's expressions when you dump them: shock, horror, anger, fear. Sometimes, it really depresses me.

“I'll go easy on him as much as possible, seeing how he's your dad,” Trey promises.

I shake my head and walk out of the office. “Don't bother.”

 
 
The day goes by in a blur. Before I know what's happening, I'm in the car on my way out to my parents' house. I can't believe how fast I get there; it feels like ten seconds. Then the instant I arrive on their doorstep, time slows down to a painstaking crawl.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, greeting her in the living room. My heart's beating so forcibly that I'm afraid it's going to jump right out of my chest.

“Hi, hon.” She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Nice outfit.”

I'm wearing a pair of black pants and a dark purple top from The Limited. “Thanks. You look great, too.” Mom's in some gray slacks and a Gap button-down shirt. She looks classy, reminiscent of Diane Keaton. She grabs her purse and heads toward the door. “I'm so glad you invited me out for coffee and chocolates!” She stops to check her appearance in the hall mirror. “This is great, Dani! When you promised we'd have a girls' night out, I honestly didn't expect you to follow through with it.” She smiles and puts her arm around my waist. “This means to so much to me. Do you know that?”

I nod solemnly and force a smile. I want to kick myself for being so cruel.
My God, why didn't I propose a
real
girls' night? Why didn't I invite her out to a movie last week or something?
Instead, I've opted to play grim reaper. I'm only hanging out with her because I have bad news.

“You ready to go yet?” I ask.

“Am I ever!” she enthuses. “Your dad and Sean are having some sort of guys' movie marathon. They've been bugging me to get out of their hair all evening.”

Movie marathon
. I imagine what feature film Sean picked. What gets across the message:
You're Cheating on Mom, You Lying Jerk
?

The last thing I want is a run-in with Father, so I hightail it out the door and down the steps. Alone in the car with Mom, I'm so nervous I can't think of anything to say. The drive out to Back Bay seems to last for hours. Time is screwed up.
Why do uncomfortable silences stretch on endlessly, while amazing moments evaporate into thin air? Is this what Einstein meant when he said time was relative? I should have paid more attention in the Survey of Physics class I took freshman year
.

At long last, we arrive at Starbucks. “What do you want, Mom?” I ask as we make our way to the front door. “I'll go get our orders.”