But, at the same time, the businessman in me is interested in her offer. What if she really wants to come back to us? We’re at a low point in terms of famous and bestselling authors, we could really use Maryanne and the revenue that she’d bring in. But that would mean having to be around her all the time. I’m not sure it’s worth it, but maybe I need to at least hear her out. What would Elissa and Cynthia think if they found out that a New York Times bestselling author offered to go with our company and I turned her down without consulting them?
I hate that I’m going to say this, but I write back that I’ll meet her at the bar we used to go to tonight at eight, and I’ll hear her out. Then I remember that I have to text Tori and cancel our recording. I feel like shit doing that, especially after the amazing night we had, but I don’t think that I have much of a choice. I need to exorcise the ghost of Maryanne once and for all. I text Tori:
Me: I hate to do this, don’t hate me. I need a rain check on the interview if that’s okay. I have a meeting with a big potential client tonight so I won’t be around for dinner. So sorry.
I hope I’m not making a huge mistake by going tonight.
Tori
I didn’t think I could feel any worse than I felt when I left Cynthia’s place.
Turns out that rock bottom is just an expression, because I feel much worse after the text I just got.
I decided to come to Shoshana’s instead of hiding out at some coffee shop or something. I decided to save the sobbing for the far more dignified location of the inside of my car, which is currently parked in her driveway.
I text her that I’m here. I don’t mention the part where I’m in complete hysterics right outside of her front door. She’ll find that out soon enough. I knock on the door, and Shoshana gets to start her day off with a closeup of my ugly cry face.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure where to start.”
“Well, start by getting your butt in here.”
I sit down on her couch and bury my face in my hands. I don’t know what’s come over me. Well, actually, I know exactly what’s come over me—first it was pettiness and jealously, and now it’s just straight jealously.
“Look!” I say like a crazy woman, holding my phone up and showing it to Shoshana. She looks at me like I’m as crazy as I am.
“Okay? Wait, it’ll be like a game. We’ll call it ‘why is my best friend losing her mind?’ —there’s no prize at the end, except your sanity, of course, and there’s only one player—me—but it still might be fun.”
“This is no time for joking. Did you see?”
“Aaaand the game is over, never mind. Ummm. . . let me look again in case there was some subliminal message kind of thing that I missed. It’s possible, I’m always the last to. . .”
“Just look!”
She takes the phone from my hand and scrolls a little through the texts before looking at me, once again, like I’m a character in Cuckoo’s Nest. “I looked. Three times. I’m really trying here. All I’m seeing is that he canceled an interview or something tonight. Does that matter?”
I compose myself. I can’t be this woman for too long. I’m still upset, but I stop the tears long enough to explain—and explain I do. I tell her about the text I found from this Maryanne person, and about his last text.
“I thought it was all in my head until he sent that last one.”
“Walk me through it again.”
“I’m thinking Maryanne is an ex, or maybe a woman he met. I don’t even know. She said that she wanted to meet him tonight, so I texted him asking if we could do our last interview instead. I’ve been recording a podcast with him that I’m going to transcribe like an interview into the back of my book. May post the podcast, I don’t know. We only have one recording session left and I asked him to do it tonight. Then I left because I didn’t want to confront him about the whole thing after last night, and then. . .”
“Wait—pause crazy rant a second. Last night?”
“We had sex. Like. . . we really had sex. Crazy sex. Animal sex.”
“I see,” she says in her softest voice. “Listen, I’m going to listen to the rest about the text and all that, but then you’re going to backtrack and tell me all about said animal sex. This isn’t a request on my part, mind you, it’s a friendship demand! Now, go on.”
“So,” I say, jumping right back into what I was saying before. “I texted him to do the last interview for the book, and he said yes. Then, right after, he texted me a second time and said he had to meet a client or something and that he needed to reschedule our interview.”
“Right?”
“Come on, you’re not stupid Shoshana. Put two and two together. He’s obviously meeting this Maryanne tonight. I finally let my guard down and let myself feel something for Cormac. Then I slept with him. It was amazing, and the next morning I find out he’s seeing another woman.”
“Alright, I see the issue here.” She moves over right next to me so that we’re practically shoulder to shoulder. “A few things. You’re doing that thing you do again.”
“What thing?” I ask.
“Assumptions. You’re making a lot of them. I mean, yes, what you think is happening is a possibility, I’m not gonna lie to you, but I don’t think it’s very likely. I think you might be connecting dots that don’t actually connect.”
“You should have read her text to him, Shosh. This Maryanne. . .”
“I know, you said it was flirty.”
“Flirty. Thirsty. There are more adjectives that I could come up with, trust me.”
“I’m sure you could—you’re an amazing podcaster and author after all. You have command of all those cool adjectives the rest of us struggle with. But you didn’t see what he wrote back to her, right?”
“No. I left.”
“Okay, so let me walk you through some of your assumptions, ‘cause there are many. I don’t actually have a PowerPoint presentation ready, but you’re smart, you can follow me.”
I smile. Just a little. I can’t help it when I’m around her. “You really think I’m being nuts.”
“Hold please.” I furrow my brow as Shoshana reaches for her own phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Hold, please!”
“Sorry, Jesus.”
After a few clicks I hear the song playing. “Now there’s no time for our usual game, and technically this is an 80’s song, but still.”
I almost start cracking up as I hear Ozzy Osbourne’s voice screaming out of Shoshana’s phone.
“. . .I’m going off the rails on a crazy train!”
“Very funny.”
“Wait, wait, they haven’t even gotten to the solo yet.”
“Shut up.” I’m laughing. I can’t help it. I know she’s right, that I’m being a little emotional and over the top, even for me, so I try to pull it back and listen to what she has to say. “Alright, I get it. Go on with what you were saying. I need your logic right now.”
“And I need to get to the guitar solo, but whatever.” She puts her phone away, and without missing a beat goes right back into her explanation as to why I’m strapped firmly to the crazy train. “What I was saying is that two and two don’t always equal four. Sometimes they do, but in this case, you might be off. Maybe there actually is a new client. Maybe there isn’t but he doesn’t feel like doing an interview about gender, so he’s going out with friends and didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“You really think it’s one of those things?” I ask. “They sound a little implausible to me.”
“I’m not saying one way or the other, all I’m saying is that it could be something you’re not thinking of. But you have it set in your mind that he’s out gallivanting with some hot ex who wants to bang him.”
“Did you just use the word ‘gallivanting’?”
“I sure did, and I’ll do it again if I have to.”
“Please don’t, I’m begging you.”
&nbs
p; “I won’t,” she jokes. “But only if you don’t act crazy anymore. What you need to do is talk to him directly. You’ve never had a problem being direct—you’re one of the most straight forward, confrontational people I know. I’ve never known you to shy away from speaking your mind. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It’s. . . it’s him. He does something to me that I’ve never felt before. I’m different around him—more submissive, more likely to get emotional, more. . .”
“Like a typical woman?”
I look up sharply. I don’t like the sound of that at all, but I have to admit, she’s right.
“Kind of. I’m not used to it.”
“Cormac really must be different, because. . .” she clears her throat. “He makes you feel. . . he makes you feel. . . he makes you feel like a natural. . .”
“Stop singing right now. Damn, you’re on a pop song roll today.”
“I don’t know why, it’s just flowing out of me. Your problems are super musical, you know that? If they ever make your relationship story with Cormac into a movie I’ve got the soundtrack set!”
“You’re nuts, you know that?”
“I know. But I’m also your best friend, and I’ve been where you are more than you have. I’m telling you, take my advice, you need to go communicate with him directly. It’s the best way to find out what’s going on.”
She’s right, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Maybe we can do the interview after he’s back from wherever he’s going—which is definitely not to go see an ex. I take out my phone to text him.
Me: I need to hit a deadline. Can we finish the podcast stuff after you get home later? I promise it won’t take long. Cross my heart.
He writes back right away.
Cormac: You got it. Maybe around ten or so? I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home.
Me: Perfect. See you then.
Shoshana’s right. I’m just not used to having a guy as great as Cormac turned out to be in my life, and I’m sure as hell not used to all this relationship stuff. I’m just emotional. Post-coital. A new girlfriend who’s being a little jealous.
“Alright, I texted him.”
“Good,” Shoshana says. “Now, about that animal sex?”
Cormac
What the hell am I thinking?
I must be out of my mind. I should have turned her down flat when she sent me the most random of all random texts. It was rough seeing her in the line at Starbucks, so I don’t know why I agreed to this drink. Actually, I’m lying, I do know why.
I had two different reactions when I saw her text—one as her ex-boyfriend and the other as a partner in my company.
The boyfriend reaction was immediate nausea, but the partner reaction was seeing dollar signs flashing before my eyes. I ignored the first and listened to the second—maybe I should have done the opposite, who knows? But here I am, pimping myself out because our firm could really use the attention and revenue that a big-time author like Maryanne could bring in. I hope this is all worth lying to Tori. This place used to be where we came to hang out with our mutual friends when we were together. I lost all of them—authors mostly—in our breakup.
Podcast or no podcast, I really can’t wait to see Tori later. We had one of the most passionate nights ever, but then she was gone when I got out of the shower this morning. I had a full day of work, and now I’m walking into an old bar to see my ex. It’s not exactly how I pictured the morning after such amazing sex with a great woman. But at least we can hang out later. And who knows—maybe she’ll be up for another session!
But right now, all that’s on the back burner.
I see Maryanne, already waiting for me at the end of the bar. She’s looking good—I’ll give her that—although I don’t really care what she looks like much anymore. It’s funny how thinking of her made me sad, but having seen her face to face twice in such a recent timeframe, I really don’t miss her at all anymore.
She waves me over. She ordered me a vodka and Sprite. That used to be my drink when we were together. I haven’t touched one since. She really is living in the past, it’s kind of sad. “Hey.”
“Hey!”
She gives me the biggest hug ever. She also yells hello a little too loud. The guy who’s now staring at us at the end of a very crowded and loud bar should not have been able to hear her, but that’s how screechy she is.
“Have you been waiting for me for a long time?”
“No, not long, like fifteen minutes. I had a meeting and I came here right after. That’s why I look all fancy.”
She really does. And I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her, so I’m taking every word that’s coming out of her mouth with a grain of salt. “How’d the meeting go?”
“Not so great,” she says. “I left Mifflin.”
Mifflin is our biggest competitor, and currently our most vicious competitor also. They pilfered three popular authors from us, including Maryanne, and another three more in the last year alone. I’m a little shocked to hear this, but I also don’t completely believe her.
“Really?” I ask. “How come? I thought you were happy over there.”
“The past tense being the key there. I was happy. I mean, I know you don’t want to rehash our past.”
“I’d rather not, no.”
“But in terms of the deal they gave me, they don’t get much better in this industry. They were great. They gave me money, distribution, a great royalty deal, all of it, but that was when I was on the rise. Now that my contract is up and I’m an established name in the industry, they want a much deeper cut of all of my profits, and I’m not having it. We’ve been going back and forth for a few months, trying to negotiate a new contract, but they just won’t budge.”
I smile. Part of me is doing the I-told-you-so dance in my head.
“They don’t need to budge anymore,” I tell her. “Not trying to be a dick, but after you jumped ship and took Terry and Jillian with you. . .”
“I know, I know. I empowered them.”
That’s an understatement. She made that company. And now they’re acting like the predatory assholes I’ve always known them to be. Birds of a feather.
“That’s right. And now they’re realizing that they have the negotiating power. Are the others jumping ship with you? Or is it just you?”
“Right now, just me. But who knows? Maybe they’ll follow me.”
“So it’s one hundred percent? You’re leaving them for good?”
“I just did. Signed, sealed, delivered. Or maybe I should say ‘unsigned.’ I’m a free agent now.”
“I promise you this isn’t a disingenuous question, but why are you telling me all of this? We haven’t exactly kept in touch since things ended—minus that weird coffee encounter.”
“That wasn’t weird—it was the universe trying to tell us something.”
Holy crap. This is it. She’s finally lost it. “How’s that?”
“Think about it. I haven’t seen you in forever, and then right as my contract is coming to an end with a publishing company I’m not happy with, we run into each other? What are the odds?”
“I don’t know what the odds of that happening are, but there are a few things I do know. For one, we haven’t spoken in forever—by your choice, not some accident of the universe keeping us from one another. If you remember, I tried to text you a few times after we broke up, and you ghosted me like I was yesterday’s news.”
“Do we really have to go over this old stuff?”
“Trust me, I don’t want to talk about it any more than you do, but your whole theory of the universe bringing us together right now seems to be predicated on the idea that the universe was somehow keeping us apart—and that’s not the case. You broke up with me, you didn’t want to have anything to do with me after the fact, and us running into each other was just a random accident.”
“So does that mean you don’t want to resign me?”
And there she is—the real M
aryanne—cutthroat, business like, and cold. I’ve been waiting for her to show her face, and she just did. Good to see you again.
“To tell you the truth, I haven’t even thought about it. The tone of your text was a little strange and I wanted to see what was on your mind. I suspected we’d end up here, but I wanted to see for myself.”
“And?” she asks.
“And what?”
“If—and that is a big if, by the way, you’re not the only big firm in town—if I was interested in resigning, are you interested in having me back?”
“I’d have to speak to Elissa and Cynthia.”
“I’m not asking about your partners,” she says curtly. “I wasn’t fucking them. I was fucking you, and I want to know if I come back how it’s going to be between us. So? Are you interested in having me back?”
I was wrong before. This wasn’t a mistake. This was exactly what I needed to say goodbye to the past. I was pining for the ghost of what Maryanne and I had—if we ever even had that at all—but reality is hitting me square in the jaw right now. Everything about how she’s speaking to me—from the changes in her tone, to the strategic use of flattery, to her referring to a serious relationship as us ‘fucking’—all of it gives me the clarity I lacked for such a long time.
I stand up, take the smallest sip of the drink she got for me, and get ready to walk right out the door and never speak to her again. It doesn’t feel sad—it feels incredible.
“That’s a hard pass for me, Maryanne.”
“Excuse me?”
“You fucked me in more ways than one—and I’m all fucked out for a while. Go shop yourself around, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble getting a contract that’ll keep you happy for a long time to come, but we’re done now. Goodbye. Thanks for the drink.”
The look on her face is priceless. Maryanne’s a cool customer, and it’s rare that she lets herself get hit as hard as she can hit, but I can tell my rejection is stinging her a little—or at the least offending her. She’s used to getting her way, and that ship has sailed when it comes to me and her.
The Three Kiss CLause Page 19
