Page 26 of For the Plot
“No. Should it be?”
“You know thatFriendsepisode where Joey says he can make anything sound like a sexy come-on?” She walks over to my desk, leaning her hip against it slightly. “Grandma’s chicken salad.” She draws out the syllables, the words sounding silly in the seductive tone she’s using.
I actually know exactly what she’s talking about. I can remember her and Archer spending hours in the front room of our house watching reruns ofFriendswhile they ate through my entire pantry. But I’m not about to ruin the moment with a recall to the fact that there’s a very massive elephant in the room that I still haven’t told my son about.
“Afraid not,” I say.
“Anyway, where do you prefer that I order from?” she asks, seemingly unbothered at my lack of banter.
“Actually, there’s a place in the lobby here; they know me. Just dial 7; they know my usual order.”
“Done.” She spins on her heel and walks to the phone to place our lunch order.
After it arrives, she crosses the room, settling into the armchair across from mine by the small table near the windows.I join her, already regretting this decision and also, somehow, not at all.
“I forgot what good dressing tastes like. This isn’t bottled. There’s no way,” she says after a few bites.
“It’s made fresh every morning,” I reply.
“Of course it is. I’m shocked there isn’t a man in the break room zesting lemons in tailored slacks.”
I almost smile. “I’ll have him brought up.”
She grins, spearing a crouton. “So… this is your every day? This floor, this silence, these views?”
“For the last several years, yes.”
“It’s very impressive but a little… lonely.”
“It’s intentional.”
She nods, not pressing, which surprises me. Most people want to ask more—about the money, the company, the way I live with half the city looking up at this building like it’s a monument to something aspirational. But she doesn’t.
Instead, she glances out the window, fork pausing over her salad. “Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“The noise. The chaos. The part of life that isn’t so… curated.”
I study her for a moment. “I used to think chaos was weakness.”
“And now?”
“Now I think silence hides more than noise ever could.”
She doesn’t look away. Her eyes stay locked on mine, like she’s not afraid of the weight behind my words. Like she sees it and doesn’t flinch.
“Is that what this place is for you?” she asks softly. “A place to hide?”
My jaw tightens, not because she’s wrong but because she’s right on the fucking money and it took her a week to see right through me.
“It’s a place to work.”
“Sure,” she says, a little smirk teasing at her lips. “And my vibrator is just for muscle tension.”
I blink, caught completely off guard, and she grins wider. But before I can decide whether to laugh or redirect, she softens again. “You don’t have to answer that, by the way. I’m just… curious.”
I glance out the window, letting the skyline anchor me. “Curiosity can be dangerous.”
