She scrunches her face like she’s doing a hard math problem. “I know that name. How do I know that name?”
I gasp. “Oh, God, have you slept with him?”
She gives me a pointed look. “I haven’t slept with every guy in Portland. But that name is so familiar.” Lacey sits there, trying to figure out how she knows Hudson. “Maybe I worked with him or something.”
I nod in agreement. Lacey works with a lot of clients and seems to know everyone. I guess that it’s possible they have met in passing.
The waiter comes back and takes our order for food. I change the topic and ask Lacey about work. She goes into all the new clients that she is working with, and she’s hoping to get a promotion from work. That way she wouldn’t be on the road as much.
I begin to talk about all the traveling that I’ve been doing from home to Portland. I think I’m spending more time in my car than my own home. We talk more about some guy that Lacey has been talking to. She seems to like him, but she won’t commit to anyone yet. She seems to always have one or two of them around. Even though I know she doesn’t sleep with all of them, she keeps her options open. It makes me feel like a nun, because I can’t even kiss Hudson.
Our food comes, and we eat with some small talk. I tell her about this great book I just finished reading. She tells me about some reality show she has been watching. It’s hard to believe that we are such good friends, because we have almost nothing in common. Then again, maybe that is why we are friends. Our differences seem to bring us together.
When we finish, we head out on our separate ways. I’m exhausted when I get home. I still have work to do, but when my phone alerts me of a text, my breath catches. It’s Hudson.
Hudson: How about dinner when you get off work tomorrow?
Me: I won’t be in Portland.
Hudson: Oh, okay
I want to see him, but I doubt he would come to my house. Do I want him here?
Me: We could have dinner at my house? If you want?
He doesn’t answer back right away. I guess that he doesn’t want to. That’s fine. I shouldn’t push him into anything.
Hudson: I’ll bring the wine. Around 5 okay?
Me: See you then
Oh my God, Hudson’s coming to my house. What the heck am I going to cook? I slap my hand to my forehead. Why didn’t I think this through?
~
I wake up tired the nex
t morning from tossing and turning all night long. Hudson is going to be in my house in less than ten hours. I need to get through work first, then have my panic attack after that.
On my way to the office, I remind myself that I need to purchase some more books on CDs. I flip through the radio stations and all they’re talking about is sports. I finally just shut it off and turn on my Pandora app.
The moment I walk into the office, Jeffrey is yelling for me. I quickly think if I’m in trouble. I don’t remember doing anything.
Jeffrey sits behind his desk, staring at me. If you were walking down the street Jeffrey would be that creepy guy who makes you cross the street. The light in his office is making his bald spot shine.
“There will be a huge fundraiser for the children’s hospital. It’s next month, and I need you there. No excuses.” His voice is stern and husky.
“Jeffrey, you know I don’t do parties,” I say quietly, looking at the floor.
“You’re my top sales rep. God knows why? But your skinny ass will be there. Here.” I look up at him. He’s holding out an envelope for me. I gingerly take it. “Remember to dress like one of those models in the magazines.”
I turn and leave his office, before he can say anything else. I swiftly answer all my emails, finish my paperwork, and call back a few clients. I want to get out of there as quickly as possible, because I need to figure out what I’m making for dinner.
After several hours, I’m done. I didn’t even eat lunch. However, I ate a quick snack at my desk. I gather my things and race home. The second I get in the house, I open my fridge and stare at it. I have nothing in there to cook. Crap! Of course I should have planned this better.
I slam the door shut and quickly think what else I can do in a short amount of time. I have to resort to calling a local diner and order two burger platters. I tell them that I will pick them up in about an hour. I hurry through my house, trying to change, redo my makeup, and make sure I have time to get the food.
By some sort of miracle, I’m able to do it all. I’m fixing our plates, when the doorbell rings. I wipe my hands on the towel and inspect myself in the hallway mirror. I chose a pair of skinny jeans, with a light pink blouse, and matching ankle boots. I left my hair down and tried to tame the frizz as much as possible.