Page 87 of My Brother's Best Friends

“Janet?” I ask as soon as her weary voice crackles through the line.

“Mac?” she answers, her voice a welcome balm. “Jesus, I haven’t heard from you in a decade. How are you?” she exaggerates.

“So much has happened,” I say. “Please tell me you’re free tonight.”

“Of course,” she answers. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’m at the airport,” I tell her. “Give me an hour and a half to go home and get changed. Then maybe we can meet at the Queen’s Bar?”

“It’s that kind of night, huh?” she teases.

“You have no idea,” I reply.

After a scalding shower, I slip into the first dress I grab and a pair of chunky heels, twist my hair into a messy knot, then hail a cab to Queen’s Bar to meet Janet.

She squeals when she spots me, and we hug for what feels like forever.

“Oh God, I needed this,” I murmur, soaking up Janet’s sunny energy. She’s always been a human battery—generous withaffection and unfailingly bright, even when life on her side of the fence wasn’t rosy.

I’ve always tried to return the favor—that’s what best friends do, after all.

“I’ve been waiting forever,” she says, stepping back to smooth her bright orange crop top. Paired with bell-bottom jeans, Janet is a living flashback to the disco era.

“Sorry—it took me a minute to plant both feet on the ground,” I say with a rueful smile. “It’s been a hell of a week, Jan.”

A quick sweep of the room tells me it’s pre-club hour; patrons are downing rounds before heading to swanky—or, judging by some outfits, grungy-chic—clubs around the block. The music booms, and the sweet bite of seasonal cocktails hangs in the air, distracting every sense.

I shimmy my shoulders, pulling Janet back into another, shorter hug.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” I shout over the buzz of voices and clinking glasses.

“It has been a minute, yes,” Janet agrees. “And I’m still reeling from the last bombshell you dropped about your boss.”

“To be honest, that feels like it’s from another lifetime, already,” I nervously laugh.

“I can’t believe you just walked out on the guy…” She flags the bartender and orders two more of her specialties.

Judging by the salt-rimmed glasses, we’re talking margaritas—perfect. I need the fuel.

“What other choice did I have?” I reply with a shrug. “I couldn’t… you know.”

“Oh, trust me, I get it,” she says. “Problem is… He’s spinning the whole thing in his favor. My manager hates his guts, though, so I know for a fact that not everybody is buying his version.”

Janet still works in the same building I did, though thankfully under a different, non-creepy boss. That’s how we became friends in the first place. Sharing our daily lives by the coffee machine or trading quick jokes by the watercooler.

She and I differ in many respects, but Janet sees things clearly, steering me back on track whenever I start to slip.

“He wanted me to sleep with him,” I grimly remind her.

“Did he say that?” Janet asks, genuinely curious. “Or was it one of his not-so-HR-friendly jokes he’s already notorious for around the office?”

“Not exactly in those words,” I admit. “But it was clear. He always had something to say about the way I dressed. Like, ‘Can’t you wear something more attractive?’ or ‘You’re hiding your best assets.’”

“No way!” Janet interjects.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “He actually told me I have a “nice rack” and that I was doing the company a disservice by wearing bulky sweaters.”

“Ugh.” Janet groans. “I think I just puked a little in my mouth. Why didn’t you ever give me the details on that scumbag? I knew he was awful, and it wasn’t hard to notice you could barely stomach him, but I chalked it up to the toxic company culture. I had no idea it was this bad.”

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