“Ok, how do I look?” I ask Aria, who’s scrolling through all of my photos on my phone. They’re 99% Lennox and 1% scenery of the foreign countries that I pass through but don’t get time to explore.
“You look like a woman who should be fucking this sex god,” she holds up my phone showing a photo of Lennox peeling off a sweaty race suit, “not David the douche.”
“I’m not fucking him.” I correct her.
“Yet.”
“Yet,” I smile and agree.
“Oooo, who is this?” Aria asks and rotates the phone. It’s a great photo of Lennox and Matty laughing in the garage in Australia.
“That’s Mattias, Matty. The physio.”
“Good lord, are they all this hot?”
“Yes, do you see now how powerless I am to resist this? They’re a walking, talking trifecta of Big Dick Energy. All swaggering and smelling good all the time. Ridiculous.”
“And this one?” Aria asks, showing me another photo.
“That’s Jack. He’s funny and sweet and gay, so don’t get any ideas. How some lucky man hasn’t snatched him up yet I don’t understand.” I suspect Jack has been seeing someone in the paddock, actually, but he’s going to have to keep my secrets, too, so I haven’t pressed for info. He, Matty, and Lennox tell each other everything but there’s no way they would betray Lennox and tell anyone about us. I still think the world would love how loyal Lennox is to his friends, but oh well.
“Ugh, shame for womankind. Tell me more about the blond.” Aria taps my phone.
“He’s Finnish and super
blunt and stoic. It comes off as rude a lot. I’m not actually convinced he isn’t just rude yet. I don’t think you would like him.”
“I don’t need him to talk,” Aria jokes.
“He said personal training is not a real thing and all you do is give aerial yoga lessons to bored housewives.”
“What!” She huffs then goes back to examining the photo, “I’d still do him.”
“Ok, I’m out of here. Wish me luck.”
“That weasel never deserved you, stay strong. Celebratory drinks tonight, right?”
“You know it,” I nod back. It’s Friday in NYC and we have catching up to do.
???
The Bean n’ Brew is bustling as the lunch rush begins, busy New Yorkers line up for their noon caffeine break or grab takeout before hopping into the nearby subway station. It’s not far from the Mitchell Media offices so David used to meet me here for lunch like back in the days when we paid attention to one another and made an effort.
Those days are long past, on both our ends.
Moving past the crowd at the counter, I spot David at a table tucked into the back corner. Good move, David, you do know what’s coming, don’t you? His laptop is in front of him and he’s typing so furiously he doesn’t notice me until I’m standing next to him.
“David,” I stay standing and expect him to rise and greet me. He doesn’t.
“Hey, Mallory, what’s up?” He can barely look away from his laptop as I sit down opposite him.
“‘What’s up?’” I mock his blasé tone, “I haven’t seen you in a month, you don’t return my calls, and that’s what you have to say?”
David purses his lips and huffs at me, “What would you like me to say, Mallory?”
He’s right, I don’t know why I expected anything else. It’s not worth arguing about. Arguing with David is not fun, like arguing with Lennox is, but I shut those thoughts down. That is not why I’m here. “You’re right, there’s not much left to say. I did want to come home and say this to you in person, though.”
“Say what?” His eyes are darting between me and his laptop screen. He could not be less interested.