Page 87 of Pick-Up
“He did all the things?”
“He didallthe things!” She winks.
Gross. “But he’s kind of a pig,” I say before I think. All eyes are on me, as I immediately regret my outburst. “No?”
“Completely.” Steph grins.
I guess that’s how she likes them. Smarmy and leathery. As long as she’s happy.
I already know she slept at his villa. I recognize a walk of shame (without shame) when I see one. And I saw one this morning.
I’m dying to ask the rest of them if they have any reservations about running this story, knowing that Martin is so terrible. But I’m still weighing the pros and cons carefully before I do. Does protecting job security for the people employed at this property take precedence? Doesmyneed for this job—and Ethan’s need for this shoot to turn out well to keep his staff safe—trump the rest?
Derek’s phone vibrates, and he quickly responds. “Sorry, guys. I know. No phones at the table.”
“This is work,” says Stephanie. “You don’t need to follow Eric rules.”
Eric is Derek’s husband. Eric and Derek. “And, yes. I know it rhymes,” he said when he revealed this during a Zoom meeting before we left.
“What are ‘Eric rules’?” I ask.
“We don’t need to—” Derek starts.
But Stephanie bulldozes over him. “What aren’t Eric rules? Eric is so high-strung, he makes Derek seem chill.”
I look at Derek, who smiles sheepishly. If Eric is uptight, Derek doesn’t mind. “He just believes in creating boundaries. Something thatsome of usdon’t have.”
“Boundaryis just another word for ‘wall,’ ” says Stephanie. “And I don’t believe in limitations.”
“And she meansany,” Jackie giggles.
From there, the conversation turns to marriage. Jackie is not ready to settle down with anyone and is curious about ethical nonmonogamy. Stephanie hasn’t found the right guy. Charlie just got out of a three-year relationship. Only Derek has tied the knot, and his marriage sounds like a kind of nuptial bliss.
“Well,” I say, “it sounds like we represent the spectrum. And only Derek knows the secret to lasting love.”
We all look at him expectantly.
“What?” he says, looking up from his Pellegrino.
“We’re waiting on your wisdom,” says Charlie. “So we can get wise.”
“Oh, I don’t have any wisdom.” He laughs. “What am I going to say? All the clichés? Don’t go to bed angry? Never stop laughing? Whatever other trite things they say in wedding speeches? I mean, it’s pretty basic: the most important thing is making each other feel heard and seen. Keeping the other person’s priorities on the same level with your own. Feeling invisible is the kiss of death. But I think Sasha knows—actually all of you know from past relationships—that none of those things matter unless the rest works.”
“The rest?” says Jackie, leaning in.
“The rest. Compatibility. It’s just right or it’s not right,” he says, shrugging. “But it’s never convenient.”
Derek may think he has no wisdom, but he has just schooled us.
We all sit with that for a moment, as a breeze worries the napkins under our tumblers. Jackie gazes down at her food. Charlie nods. Stephanie bites her lip. I exhale.
“Well, that’s enough truth for one day, I think,” says Stephanie, tossing her napkin on top of her plate, and we all smile. She pulls out her lipstick to reapply.
“Where did you meet Eric, by the way?” I ask Derek.
“At work.” He smiles but then frowns. “But don’t anyone get any ideas.”
I am dressed in a sarong. It’s not mine. It’s Stephanie’s. Because I am not the kind of person who owns sarongs. But I am also not the kind of person who is willing to appear on video in only a bathing suit.
