Page 36 of About that Fling
Jenna McArthur: It’s a few blocks from your hotel. You should check it out. Friday nights they have karaoke.
Adam Thomas: You do karaoke?
Jenna McArthur: No way. But it’s fun to watch.
He thought about making a voyeurism joke, but decided they’d moved beyond the sexy flirting. He tried not to feel sad about that.
Jenna McArthur: I’d better go check on my aunt. It’s been good chatting with you. Goodnight, Adam.
Adam Thomas: Goodnight, Jenna.
Jenna McArthur: Oh, and I’m rescinding that last friend request. Sorry for the confusion.
Adam Thomas: Probably best. See you Monday?
Jenna McArthur: xoxoxo
He stared for a moment at the cyber hugs and kisses. They seemed like a deviation from the business-formal writing he’d come to expect from her. Had she done it on a whim, or carefully counted each x and o?
He tried to remember which one stood for hugs and which represented kisses. Either way, they weren’t the same as the real thing. Not by a long shot. But they were all he was likely to get from her.
He knew why, and it all came down to the other thing he’d written that wasn’t entirely true.
Because he remembered that goddamn yellow dress. Mia had bought it the summer before they split, and she’d worn it during a weekend getaway to the Jersey Shore. A failed, last-ditch attempt to rekindle the marriage.
The vacation and the dress had been no match for the problems between them.
Adam shut down his Internet browser, trying not to picture the dress on Jenna. On the floor of his hotel room.
He closed his laptop and put it on the nightstand, a funny lump in the pit of his stomach.
“We’re going to kick off this morning’s mediation session with an icebreaker exercise.”
Adam surveyed the assembled group, noticing a few annoyed expressions and several staff members who didn’t look fully awake. He kept his eyes away from the corner of the room where Mia and Jenna had seated themselves next to the refreshment table. He had to appreciate both their resourcefulness and their position out of his immediate line of sight.
“Let’s start things off with a very basic question,” Adam continued, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over the podium someone had set there like he was some sort of stuffy inspirational speaker. He moved around it to sit on the edge of an empty table in the front row, his eyes scanning the room to make sure he had everyone’s attention.
“Toilet paper.” He paused there, watching a few eyebrows raise and a few sleepy expressions flicker to alert curiosity. “Over or under? Those of you who prefer over, I’d like you to go to that side of the room.” He gestured to the right, keeping his eyes off Mia and Jenna. “Those who prefer under, please gather over there. I’ll give you a moment to get settled.”
He watched as members of the bargaining team swiveled their gazes around the room. There were a few suspicious looks, and Adam had to stifle a laugh at the notion that high-level executives might think a discussion of toilet paper could lead to a strategic gain in contract negotiations.
At least one person looked embarrassed, and several more still looked sleepy. But most looked intrigued, even a little amused.
He dared a glance at Jenna, and saw her look around, a little self-conscious at first. Then she strode to the opposite side of the room, joining the ranks of the “under” crowd.
His ex-wife stayed put on the “over” side of the room, and Adam tried not to give too much thought to the argument they’d had the first year of their marriage when she’d steadfastly insisted on the opposite configuration in their bathroom. Not set in his ways at the time, Adam had been fine with giving in.
He turned his thoughts away from Mia and Jenna and focused back on the group.
“Okay then,” he said, pleased to see everyone had picked a side. “Obviously most of you have a pretty solid opinion about the proper positioning of toilet paper. Let’s take a moment to discuss why that is. Who’d like to give me a reason for your preference?”
He let the silence stretch for a few beats. He’d call on someone if no one stepped up, but someone always did. Even with something as innocuous as ass wiping, people couldn’t resist the urge to share and defend their opinions.
“It just rolls off easier,” the board president said at last, crossing her arms over her chest. “When the toilet paper comes over the top of the roll, you can see where it’s coming from and it flows better.”
“Thank you, Nancy,” Adam said, nodding in encouragement. “Great input. Now how about someone on the other side of the room?”
Brett Lombard, the president of the nurses’ union, was already shaking his head. “Actually, I find it rolls better coming from underneath. Plus it tears easier when you can press it against the wall.”
