Kat Fight

Home > Other > Kat Fight > Page 19
Kat Fight Page 19

by Dina Silver


  I grab Adam in a huge embrace and thank him before heading back to work.

  “As much as I was avoiding Ryan this morning, I was sort of hoping to run into him and just see what would happen,” I tell Adam as he’s tapping the button for the elevator.

  “I hardly think he’d be anything but kind, Kat. He’s not like Marc.”

  “That’s for sure,” I add. “When will the design team be back?”

  “Not until late afternoon, if at all,” he says, still tapping away. “I could get crows feet waiting for this thing.”

  We finally exit onto our floor, and I can see Brooke leaving a note for me on my desk as I round the corner. “Hey, Brooke,” I say.

  She crumples the note. “Can you take a conference call with Chase at one o’clock? I have to leave early today,” she says as more of an order than a question.

  “Sure, what’s up?” I ask her and she looks at Adam before speaking.

  He looks at me, then back at her, and takes an uncomfortably long time to get the hint that he should leave. Finally, he waves his hand in front of her. “I don’t need the face, just say go away.” And with that he disappears.

  Brooke waits until he’s out of sight before explaining. “I think Drew is planning to meet her at our house today of all places, so I’m planning on being there as well,” she tells me with little emotion.

  “What?” I gasp.

  She tosses the crumpled note into my garbage can. “You heard me, Kat. So I need you to take the conference call for me.”

  “Brooke, do you really think that’s a good idea? What are you going to do if you walk in on them?”

  “That’s my plan,” she says, annoyed by my unsupportive response and starts walking toward her office.

  I follow behind her. “Brooke, let me go with you, something like this shouldn’t be done alone,” I offer.

  “Thanks, that’s generous of you, but I’m fine.”

  “Brooke…STOP!” I yell, eliciting stares from at least three nearby cubes.

  She halts her stride and turns to face me in front of her office door.

  I swallow and begin talking much quieter. “Look, I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through but I do know that you could use a friend right now,” I say. “If you insist on doing this, please let me come with you.”

  She checks the time on her phone. “Fine,” she says exasperated. “Meet me in the lobby at noon,” she states and walks into her office.

  I scurry back to my desk, dial Carrie’s extension and ask her to tear herself away from You Tube long enough to reschedule the Chase conference call. A moment later Adam texts me.

  WTF?

  He inquires.

  What?

  I play innocent.

  Spill it.

  He demands.

  Just work stuff, u freak.

  I text.

  Really, or Drews affair?

  He replies.

  You suck.

  I say.

  Why didn’t u tell me??

  He has the nerve to ask me.

  It’s a secret!!

  I say.

  My interoffice phone line rings and I see it’s Adam tired of texting. “How do you know?” I ask him immediately when I answer my phone.

  “I know everything.”

  “She confided in Dave obviously?” I assume.

  “And Dave in me. Aren’t you proud I didn’t tell you?”

  “You just did, fool,” I remind him. “You didn’t know I knew about it when you just texted me.”

  “Whatever. So what’s the big secret meeting today for?” he asks excitedly.

  Since I despise Drew, and Adam already knows that, I make the simple decision to fill him in on our ‘Cheaters’ style entrapment this afternoon.

  “I’m coming with,” he declares.

  “Are you out of your freaking skull?!” I whisper-shout into the phone. “She will kill me if she finds out you know, regardless of whether it was Dave who told you or not. Keep your trap shut,” I threaten him.

  “Dammit! Fine, but don’t pull your little ‘I’m too sad and rejected to call Adam’ routine like you did last night. I want details on this one. Train wrecks like this don’t happen every day you know.”

  “Good Lord, you need a hobby,” I say and hang up on him.

  At five minutes to twelve I head down to the lobby and see that Brooke is already there waiting for me, showing no appreciation for my promptness. We walk to her car without speaking a word, both because I have no clue what to say in a situation like this, and because she’s probably trying to forget that I’m with her. As a matter of fact, she barely even acknowledges me. When we reach her car I can see that the front passenger seat is littered with boxes, paperwork, empty fast food bags and DVDs. She doesn’t even make the slightest gesture to move any of it out of the way for me, so I awkwardly force myself into the backseat.

  Brooke lives in an area called River West, which is just west of the Chicago River but still close to downtown. She and Drew bought a townhouse in a development there about a year ago. As we approach the complex she starts to talk in a low, barely recognizable voice.

  “He’s not here yet.”

  I peek around from the back seat. “How do you know?”

  “I don’t see his car.”

  “What if they took a cab?”

  “He’s too cheap,” she quickly replies.

  We sit in silence for about ten minutes during which I applaud being shunned to the backseat because it allows me to text Adam without appearing insensitive.

  Sitting outside her house in car.

  I type.

  Crouching Brooke, hidden Drew.

  He says.

  Exactly.

  I reply.

  What now?

  He asks, dying to be crouching next to me.

  In backseat, texting u, feeling more ridiculous than I have in long time.

  I confess.

  That says a lot.

  He adds.

  Just then Brooke sinks down into her seat and remains very still like a preying animal. I’m not sure why we’re hiding because if he sees her car he’ll obviously know she’s either in it or in the house. I start to regret my decision to be the supportive friend and prepare for my approaching nausea.

  “It’s him,” she whispers as though he might hear, but at least she’s acknowledged my involvement. “And someone else is in the car.”

  “Can you tell who it is?” I whisper back.

  “Not yet.”

  I grab the headrest of the front passenger seat and scootch myself forward a little. “What is the plan by the way?” I wonder, hoping she’ll say something like ‘drive away’ or ‘confront him via email’ from back at the office.

  “I’m going to bust them as soon as they get out of the car.”

  Crap.

  She tilts her head backwards while keeping her eyes on his approaching car. “As soon as they’re in the house I’m going in after them,” she informs me.

  “Do you want me to go with you or wait in the car?” I ask, and pray she tells me to wait in the car.

  “Wait here.”

  Yes!

  WTF??

  Adam interrupts my panic mode with a text.

  He’s driving up, someone’s with him.

  I reply.

  As Brooke and I see Drew’s car get closer, we also notice that our embarrassing excuse for a cover has been blown. I watch in horror as Drew and his passenger, whom I recognize immediately from Brooke’s unfortunate bowling alley bridal shower, make direct eye contact with us as they drive by.

  OMG it’s the slut from her bridal shower!!

  I frantically text Adam.

  Whoretencia???

  He spells out.

  YES!

  I answer.

  What r u doing??

  Adam asks.

  Freaking out!

  I type.

  Just as I look up from my phone Drew peels away in his ca
r, causing Brooke to accelerate, hot on his trail. Their residential development is in a round formation and has a main drive that circles the entire group of townhomes with only one exit. I’m literally holding on to the little handle bar above the window, the one I hang my dry-cleaning on, because she is driving so fast and seriously testing the turning radius on her car.

  “Are you sure we should be doing this?” I ask, frightened.

  “I’m not letting him get away.” She continues to drive her car like an arcade game, while I hang onto my seatbelt likes it’s a fireman’s pole.

  “He knows you saw him, and so does she,” I shout, but Brooke is not listening to me.

  “Can you believe that little slut?” she asks. “Always pretending to be my friend. Unbelievable! I should have known,” she says as she punishes the wheel with a good whack then reaches for her phone. I prop myself up and text Adam.

  Literally driving in circles chasing them.

  I say.

  OMG, can’t stand it!

  He texts.

  Life flashing before eyes.

  I reply.

  Just then Brooke makes one last desperate move and does a tire screeching u-turn as she’s dialing her phone. She tears around the corner and brings her car to a dead stop causing my phone and purse to hit the floor.

  “You have some fucking nerve you fat ass!” she screams into her phone and exits the car leaving the driver-side door open behind her.

  Brooke is now standing in the middle of the street as Drew’s car comes hurling toward her, and then stops a questionably safe distance away. It’s a stand-off. If only Clint Eastwood were here.

  “Where are you and your piece of shit lying slut-bag going to go now?” she wails into the phone with Drew on the other end. I seriously cannot believe he answered her call, and has stayed on the line.

  On floor of car listening to her scream.

  I update Adam.

  Where is she?

  He asks.

  Outside yelling at them.

  I type.

  I hope ur packing heat.

  He says.

  This is going to get ugly.

  I text.

  What are pimp and ho doing?

  Adam wonders.

  I can’t see, on floor of car!

  I remind him.

  “Get out of the God damn car!” I hear Brooke shout to Drew.

  I inch my way back onto the seat and peer over at the drama. Brooke is screaming into the phone, which means this moron has yet to hang up on her, and she’s waving her arm for him to dare approach her without his vehicle. Hortencia is crouched down, much like me, yet still visible with her right hand covering most of her face and her elbow resting on the door. Neither of them looks as though they’re going to budge.

  Brooke takes a step forward and repeats her request, “Get out of the car you cowardly piece of shit!”

  Rather than oblige her, Drew puts his car in gear and lunges forward just enough to catch Brooke off guard and instinctively make her jump to the side. Then he hits the pedal and speeds past her. Not one to be outdone, Brooke hurls her cell phone at his back windshield, hits her mark, and leaves a web of crackling glass in its wake.

  “Yes!” I scream aloud from inside her car. I’m so proud of her right now I could cry.

  I pry myself from the backseat and make my exit. Brooke’s attention is fixated on Drew’s car, which has now spun back around and is heading toward her. He comes to a stop and erupts from his vehicle screaming obscenities at her and pointing at his shattered windshield. My eyes go to Brooke, and her demeanor is unrecognizable to me. She is standing tall, arms crossed, with a fire in her eyes I never dreamed she’d be capable of lighting.

  They continue arguing and screaming at each other while Hortencia sits in the battered car and I stand off to the side wishing I’d stayed in the backseat. Just then Hortencia leans over and lays on the horn of Drew’s car, causing all of us to jump and look in her direction. Drew decides to answer the page and storms back to his car, leaving Brooke standing there alone.

  She and I watch Drew and Hortencia burn rubber onto the main road and out of sight. I take a few cautionary steps toward her.

  “Brooke,” I start softly. “Are you okay? I don’t know what to say.”

  “Me neither,” she says, staring in the direction where Drew just drove off.

  “Both of them are disgusting,” I add.

  “I know,” she says breathing heavily. “Aside from the obvious betrayal, it’s just, so humiliating.”

  “I know it is.” I decide to agree. I want to tell her that she shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I realize that she must be mortified to have had this done to her. Not only by him, but with the same pathetic woman who threw her an equally pathetic bridal shower.

  “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll jump in a cab back to the office?” I suggest.

  She nods. “Okay, thanks.”

  “I really wish there was something I could do to help,” I tell her.

  She nods again and I give her a hug.

  I walk away remembering I’d been hoping for a distraction from my own pitiful set of circumstances. Note to self: Be careful what you wish for.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:

  Withdrawal

  I stopped by the bookstore after work last night to pick up some self-help books for Brooke. I really want to do something nice for her and I know she would never purchase something like this on her own. I found three that looked helpful; one on divorce, one on building self-esteem after a tragedy, and one on powerful women. Taking the time to focus on Brooke, and her problems with Drew, has proven to be a wonderful way to avoid my own. As I was perusing the book titles all I could think about was how she managed to reach deep within herself yesterday and face Drew head on without backing down. She should be really proud of herself, and I’m going to make sure I tell her that.

  When I got home from the store last night, I realized I didn’t have any wrapping paper so I stacked all three books together in a nice pile and covered them in tin foil. The packaged trio actually looked all retro and shiny then, but this morning it’s a little more crinkled and stupid looking than I had hoped. Regardless of my lack of gift-wrapping skills, I’m certain she will appreciate the gesture.

  Just as I’m waiting in my office lobby for the elevator, I bump into Adam and he starts telling me a story about how he and Dave went out to dinner last night and ran into Dave’s ex-boyfriend Brian. He then proceeds to tell me that they got into a huge fight afterwards because Adam was drunk and found out that the real reason Dave and Brian broke up is because Brian wanted to have a commitment ceremony and Dave wouldn’t. And even though Dave insisted it was because he didn’t love Brian, Adam decided it was because Dave was afraid of commitment. So apparently poor Dave had been committed to the sofa.

  “You’re a real shit. Dave is absolutely in love with you, and you know it. You can’t just get all pissy with him because you bump into his ex, that’s not fair to Dave. He would never treat you like that,” I say and squint to get a closer look at his face. “Are you wearing rouge?”

  Adam rubs his cheeks and turns his back to me. “Oh, I’ll be looking to you for relationship advice,” he spews.

  “And I’ll be looking for you to help get me from the elevator to my cube in record time before anyone sees me,” I say as the doors open on our floor.

  “You can go public with your shame again today; Ryan’s not coming in.”

  “What?!” I stomp my foot. “Where the hell is he today?”

  “I’m sorry,” Adam pauses, “but didn’t you just ask me to assist you in avoiding him?” he questions me.

  I stop walking, forcing him to do the same. “Yes, but just so I could get focused before I start patrolling the floor…where the hell are they??”

  “Out in Oak Brook pitching McDonalds.”

  I exhale with a snort-like noise and walk slowly to my desk. Adam follows me, and watches as I remove Brooke’s pre
sent from the grocery bag I transported it in.

  “What’s with the Easy Bake Oven?” he asks with a look of disdain and points to my foil wrapped gift for Brooke.

  “Just leave me alone,” I say.

  “Look, sad kitty, why don’t you try giving him a call or sending him a pathetic text or something? Let him know you’re thinking about those hunky biceps.”

  “I did,” I confess. “Last night I broke down and texted him but he didn’t text me back.”

  “Maybe he didn’t get it,” Adam offers, knowing it’s not likely.

  I shoot him a dirty look. “He got it.”

  “Well what moronic sentiment did you text him?”

  “Just, ‘hi…thinking about you…would love to talk…miss you.’ I think that was all. It was short and feeble.”

  “Like you,” he jokes. “Well, I know he and Dave have been busy with today’s meeting and the trip tomorrow. Ryan’s a very focused guy and he’s probably just trying to concentrate on work right now.” Adam does his best to reassure me. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to submit a status report on your ‘working things out’ progress,” he says with a smile.

  I grab my calendar. “You have to find out if they’re coming in tomorrow,” I command of him. “This is crazy, I need to see him before they go to Vegas. Because if I don’t, it’s going to be another week before he gets back and I really don’t think you want to deal with me and my bruised ego under those circumstances.”

  “I’ll find out,” he nods and then heads toward the reception area.

  “Thank you!” I call after him and grab my pile of aluminum to bring to Brooke’s office. It’s about nine forty-five when I check the clock, but she’s nowhere to be found. I leave the books on her desk with a note and check with Carrie to see if Brooke has called in this morning.

  “Good morning, Carrie,” I chirp with my best forced smile.

  She nods.

  “Have you heard from Brooke?” I ask.

  She shakes her head.

  “Can you let me know if she calls in for any reason? Or better yet, please put her through to me and let her know I need to speak with her.”

 

‹ Prev