Page 47 of Summer Ever After
“You could’ve told me,” I whispered, worried that if I didn’t it would come out in a scream.
“I wanted to see if you could actually do it. Looks like you lost the deal.”
I was lost for words. What a cunt. It wasn’t a word that I used often, but in that situation, it felt like the only appropriate word to use.
“But…”
“Don’t but me. Bring home the ticket. Ta-ta.”
She hung up the phone. I slid down the wall, the receiver to my ear. I thought that I heard a weird click, but brushed it off, since it was an old phone.
Two more years. Could I do two more years of this? Christina had to release my inheritance to me. She told me that there was a clause in the agreement that allowed her to deny it to me, if I didn’t deserve it. It was the story I’d been told for the past ten years. I’d toughed it out this long, what was two more years of hell when you’d already lived through ten?
I replaced the phone on the hook and stood, giving myself a minute before returning to the lunch room. Mrs. Graham wasn’t in her office. I tiptoed across the room and set the ticket on her desk. There was a little notepad and a pen and I scratched a quick note, thanking her, but told her that my friend didn’t need it, and to give it to someone who deserved it.
I’d lie to Christina and tell her my boss needed it back. There was no way I was going to let her scalp a ticket to the classiest event in the state. An event I couldn’t believe that she and my sister were attending. An event that needed a lot more steaming.
The steamer was where we left it, and Tara and I set to making the napkins perfectly flat, ready for the caterers to fold into elaborate shapes.
“What did Mrs. G want?” Tara asked.
“Nothing, really. She wanted to get more details about the setup. I guess she didn’t want to talk about work in the lunch room.” I shrugged, hoping that my face didn’t give me away. I should’ve given the ticket to Tara. That’s what I should’ve done. “What’s going on with you and Trey?” The subject needed to be changed.
Tara blushed. “I texted him a couple of nights ago and we flirted a bit.”
“How old is he?” I asked.
“Not too old for me.” Tara sidestepped the question. “I like an older man.”
She draped the napkin on the stack that was now taller than her. “How about you? Any prospects?”
I shook my head. “I’m too busy for dating.”
“I know that.” She steadied the stack. “I’m going to start a new pile before I get buried in an avalanche of linen.” She took the top portion of the pile and smoothed it, setting it next to the existing tower. “Do you like older dudes?”
Max had been older, but I don’t think that’s what Tara meant. “What’s older?”
She shrugged. “Well, I’m thirty and Trey is…more than ten years older than me. How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-three.” I dragged the steamer over what felt like the millionth white square of fabric.
“No, you’re not.” Tara screwed up her forehead. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “I’ll be twenty-four in the fall.”
“You’re just a baby. I thought that you were in your thirties.”
“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t really care, but it seemed like an odd thing for Tara to bring up.
She took the steamer from my hand. “I didn’t mean that you look old. You’re just so mature, you seem like you’ve got your shit together.”
If she only knew. I thought to myself. When the final napkin was steamed, we unplugged the unit and I called Mrs. Graham on the radio.
Tara looked at her watch. “It’s five o’clock, what are the chances that we’re going to get to go home on time tonight?”
I thought back to the sandwiches and Trey’s prediction. “I’d say it’s highly unlikely.”
“Cottage keepers base to Rosie.”
