"But why this particular gym?"
"I talked Richard into getting us all a membership when I came on. But he threatened not to renew it unless we started using it. So this is really for the team—the company."
Emily rolled her eyes. "Whatever. But wouldn’t it be easier to have our little meeting on one of those machines?"
Miranda smiled. "It’s too noisy in here. The sparring ring is much better."
"Fine, because I’m going to kick your ass."
"I thought you said you’d never kickboxed before?"
"I haven’t. I’m still going to kick your ass."
They walked up to the glass doors near the outdoor deck. The blinds were down, which was unusual. Emily tried the door. Locked. Miranda frowned, then knocked. Thirty seconds later, one of the trainers came out through the door, which he kept half-closed. "Hi, can I help you?"
"Uh, yeah," Miranda laughed. "We’re here to spar."
"Oh, uh, right," the man said uncomfortably. "I’m afraid it’s closed today."
"Closed?" Miranda asked, still smiling. "Maybe I misread the agreement, but I thought this was something we always had access to."
"No, it is," the man said in a reassuring tone. "It’s just that we have a private client now."
Emily frowned. "Who needs the entire room all to themselves?"
"Yeah, it’s kind of a special situation. Rehab. And he reserved the whole room for the next two hours."
"Are you kidding me?" Now Miranda was angry. "Do you think you could have posted something on your website, or at the desk, or on the door? My friend and I moved our whole day around to do this."
The man nodded quickly. "You’re right, ma’am. I’m sorry we handled this so badly. So what I’ll do is have them give you both two hours each with any trainer here—personal trainer like myself, yoga, Pilates, Gyrontonic, whatever we’ve got. Just give me your names and by the time you leave I’ll have it ready for you at the desk."
"Is that standard—"
"Sounds great," Emily said quickly. She gave him their names, then dragged Miranda away. "That’s a good deal, dude. I’d love a private with a yoga instructor."
Miranda rubbed her neck. "Yeah, I guess so. Alright, fine. How about we take that Gyrokinesis class you were oohing and aahing over, and then meet over lunch?"
~~~
Ninety minutes later, Emily and Miranda were blissfully picking at their ultra-healthy spa lunch while looking over Boylston Street. "Wow—I’m coming back," Emily sighed before she chewed on some escarole.
"Oh my God, I don’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed," Miranda said as she sipped her water. "I think we should meet here twice a week."
Emily sighed. "Three times."
"Maybe we can drag Jessie away from her classes to join us," Miranda murmured.
That was enough to snap Emily back. "Oh my God!" Miranda jumped. "Jessie! Do you know what she’s doing now?"
Miranda looked at the clock on the wall. "Sitting in class?"
Emily quickly waved her hand. "No, no, no. She didn’t tell you about the hot TA in Joanna’s class?"
Miranda laughed. "No, but why am I not surprised?"
"You should be. First of all, he’s twenty-six—"
"So is Martin."
"For the last time—I never pimped her out to him! But this new guy is an idiot on top of that."
"Professor Hazlett must have hired him because he can do something."
"Yeah, well, I don’t know what that is, but it isn’t teach. He got it wrong, Miranda, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about."
"Doesn’t know what?"
"Hippodameia. Pelops was married to Hippodameia."
"Can you not speak Greek right now?"
"They’re studying the House of Atreus. The class is going over the beginning, but he—Bobby Lester—and Jessie started going over some more of it. Later in the story, Tantalus’ son marries a princess named Hippodameia."
"Congratulations."
"But he keeps calling her Hippolyta. And it gets worse. She said they looked it up on Wikipedia and they had the same name. Okay, first of all, who uses Wikipedia as their only source for a university level class? Second of all, Wikipedia is the only place I could find that has made that mistake. Everyone else—every other book, every other online resource—lists the correct name." She shook her head. "He’s sloppy."
Miranda shrugged. "Okay—well, maybe that wasn’t his area of study. I mean, she hired you to do her research, and you weren’t even an English major—or grad student, for that matter."
"But I was with her during her meetings with her staff. Joanna is fastidious. That’s why she needed the extra research assistant for so long. I can’t believe she’d hire someone like that."
"So why don’t you say something to her?"
Emily blinked. "I’m saving contact with her for something special."
Miranda smiled. "Wow, you really hold a grudge, don’t you?"
It was times like this that made Emily feel like she was a member of a different species. "She played me, and you know it."
Miranda sighed. "No, she didn’t. Alex did."
"And she lied to me so he could."
Miranda shook her head. She couldn’t pierce Emily’s armor right now. "Sometimes people have their own reasons for doing things, Em. Maybe you should just trust that, and let it go."
"Maybe you’re right," Emily conceded. "And maybe I will—once I figure out what this guy is doing on her staff."
CHAPTER 12
On Saturday night at ten-thirty, Emily asked Mitch to go get her a second serving of lemon sorbet at JP Licks on Newbury Street.
Mitch frowned. "You just said you hated it." He’d finally taken the bar—the sick, twisted, nightmare that it was—and he wanted to do nothing more than celebrate alone with his wife while his parents were watching Hellie; especially since things had been so strained lately. But Emily had insisted that they run all over Newbury Street instead.
"It’s the only thing they have here that I can eat."
Mitch was already done with his white coffee cone. "So we could just go," he said slowly.
"But I need something," Emily said, half-to-herself.
"For what?"
Emily looked up and smiled, then pulled Mitch into a kiss. "Will you please just get me the damn sorbet?"
"Fine," he said, then grinned. "But I deserve another kiss."
Emily was halfway through nursing her lemon sorbet fifteen minutes later when she kicked Mitch, who was half-asleep, under the table. "Honey, wake up!" she whispered.
Before Mitch could ask what was going on, Emily put on a big smile. "Jess!" she called out. Mitch wanted to sink down further, but he sat up before Emily could kick him again.
"Hey!" Jessie smiled as she bounded over to Mitch and Emily’s table with Bobby in tow. "Mind if we join you?"
"Please," Emily said, scooting over quickly. Mitch reluctantly moved over too, but there was murder in his eyes as he looked at his wife.
Jessie made the introductions as Mitch and Bobby shook hands. Mitch held Bobby’s hand for just an extra second longer than he needed to. "Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "You look so familiar to me."
"Well, if you’ve been near the University in the last two months, I’m sure you would have seen me."
"That must be it," Mitch said, half-exhausted. "I just killed myself studying for the bar."
"How did that go?" Jessie asked. Mitch was surprised. She was never this polite.
"I’m pretty sure I didn’t fail, but I don’t think I’m going to go down in the books with any records for my achievement either."
"From what I’ve heard," Bobby said, "just getting through it is enough of an achievement."
"True that," Mitch said with a laugh.
Emily smiled. "So, Bobby, how did you get this gig with Professor Hazlett?"
"The usual way," he said with a shrug.
"Well, that’s why I have to ask," Emily said apologe
tically. "I mean, she gave me a job when she saw me crying in the Quad. Seriously! I just want to make sure she didn’t find you kicking the vending machines or something."
"I’m one of her grad students. I just did a little work at BU, but I liked what I’d heard about this program, believe it or not. And before that I graduated from Oberlin. Three years ago."
"Oberlin. Really? Because that’s quite a Boston accent you’ve got there."
"Would you believe that they let people go out of state to study these days? And then they let you come back." He smiled. "Would you like the spelling of my name?"
Jessie glared, and Emily laughed as if she’d been caught. "Hey, I hope you wouldn’t expect anything less from Jessie’s friends, right? I mean, I don’t think I’d be doing my job if I didn’t grill her...TAs when I met them."
"No," Bobby said as he shrugged his shoulders. "Perfectly understandable. And I get why you’d want to make sure I was keeping up with your fine tradition of excellence for Joanna. It’s a pity you’re not still there to keep all of us on our toes."
By the tone of his voice, it was obvious that Joanna had told him at least part of her dramatic exit the day after she’d broken Miranda’s heart. What else did he know?
Emily sighed. "It is. My best job—until I got this one." She smiled. "Well, I’m sorry. I don’t want to keep you anymore." She made Jessie move so she could leave. She hugged Jessie, who was still glaring at her. Then Emily turned around and stuck her hand out at Bobby. "And it really was a pleasure to meet you—I hope to see you again."
Bobby shook her extended hand, and Mitch noted that his grip looked very firm. "I expect we will."
Mitch waved to the two of them, then took Emily’s hand as they left. Once they were at the train station, he turned on her. "Do you want to tell me what the Hell that was about?"
"He’s a fake," she said solemnly.
"He practically gave you his social security number."
"Right—and I bet if I checked that, I would have found someone who was twenty-six and went to Oberlin. Just like I’m sure that when I call Oberlin on Monday they are going to tell me that someone named Robert Lester graduated three years ago. But I’m not buying it until I see his face in a yearbook."
"I think you should let this go."
"Okay, honey. Sorry, I’m just waiting for you to tell me that Jessie can take care of herself. Because it’s only an eight-year age difference, and he’s her TA."
At that moment, the train came. Mitch didn’t say anything. "What?" she asked once the train cleared out a little bit.
Mitch nodded at last. "I think he’s got more than eight years on her. I don’t put him at a day younger than twenty-eight."
~~~
Jessie cocked her head as soon as Mitch and Emily left. "I hope you’re not expecting me to apologize for her."
Bobby shrugged. "No, I appreciate that she’s looking out for you. Of course, I think you need to tell all your friends that they don’t have anything to worry about, because I am just your TA, nothing more."
Jessie nodded. "Sure. Because I bet you hold office hours for all your students on Saturday. At night. Over dinner."
Bobby smiled, and Jessie thought she saw him blush a little bit. "I just thought that might make conversation flow more easily."
"Oh, right," Jessie whispered. "Too bad we didn’t talk about class, at all. Between you and my therapist, I don’t think I’ve talked this much about my parents since, well, ever."
"What do you talk about with your therapist?"
"What I remember about them dying."
"And what’s that?"
"Just about nothing," Jessie answered honestly. "Blood, sometimes, but I don’t know why."
"How did they die?"
"My dad drowned. My mom died in her sleep."
"How old was she?"
"About twenty-four." Jessie shuddered just a little bit. "Just about Miranda's age."
"That’s awfully young to die in your sleep."
"Heart condition, they said."
"Who’s they?"
"Richard and Lucy." Jessie shook her head. "No. Just Richard."
"What did your aunt say?"
"Nothing," Jessie said quietly. "She just let Richard do all the talking."
"How old was he?"
Jessie sighed. "Thirteen, I think."
"And how old were you?"
"Four."
"So how do you know you remember it correctly?"
Jessie looked at him square in the eye. "Because you know when you’re that age. When you’re a little kid, you don’t have to go through the apologetic BS you do when you’re older. When you’re eight, even. You just get it. And people think you’re crazy or in the way or rude because you get it and then you say it. So then no one wants to talk to you or they send you to your room. Then you start making up excuses for why they must be right and you must be wrong. Then you grow up, and you realize that you had it right back then, and if your world seems messed up, it’s because you bought into someone else’s lies. So don’t lie anymore, and everything will be just fine."
"And when did you come to that nugget of wisdom?"
"When I was fifteen," Jessie said quietly. "And I’ve been very happy ever since."
"Did you mention that to your therapist?"
"No, because if I told him I was happy he’d want to convince me that I’m not and that would just be annoying. This guy only seems to be satisfied if I’m unhappy."
"Is it helping?"
"I guess. I mean, no episodes since he took over."
"Were there episodes with the first guy?"
Jessie took a deep breath. "One. I...got a weird note. I don’t even remember what it said. I opened it, and Richard and Zainab said I couldn’t sleep again, and I was having nightmares. I don’t remember too well. But I guess the doctors got it before it...snowballed again."
"And what was the magic cure?"
"Sleep," Jessie said with a laugh. "Amazing how essential that stupid little thing can be. And Richard always calls me at eleven if he’s not home to make sure I’m in bed."
Bobby looked at his watch, then shook his head. "Then I guess it’s bedtime for you, my dear."
"I thought you’d never ask."
Bobby took Jessie’s hand. "Jessie, will you please let me drive you home?"
Jessie grabbed his other hand. "I’ll be happy too—once I’ve seen the inside of your apartment."
"I don’t think that’s a good idea."
"All I want to do is check out your taste in furniture. Anything else you’re thinking is all on you."
"I could get into a lot of trouble even if it’s just showing you my apartment."
"I promise not to tell, and even Emily isn’t that square." He looked down at her hand and didn’t say anything. "And please don’t give me some line about being a nice guy, because I don’t think I’d buy it."
Bobby looked up. "I’m not a nice guy, Jess. And you’re smart enough that that should bother you."
"Are you...going to get me drunk?"
"That’s not my style."
"Drug me?"
"That’s really not my style."
"Pin me down? Against my will?"
"That would be a first."
She looked him in the eyes and smiled. He didn’t shrink. "Then I’m not that worried."
~~~
Jessie laughed when they opened Bobby’s apartment door. "You said South End, dude. This is looking pretty Roxbury to me."
Bobby threw his keys onto the table. "Next street over is Roxbury, but I assure you, we’re in the South End right now."
"Whatever you say," Jessie said. She kissed him quickly. He looked surprised, but she turned away and headed for his CD collection. "Oh, what’s this?" She pulled out Stan Getz Plays Jobim and giggled. "What are you, forty?"
"I am not forty," Bobby said as he grabbed the CD from her. "But just for that..." He started his CD player, then popped it in. Corcovado started playi
ng. Jessie laughed, then hummed along.
"Not so uncool, I guess," Bobby said as he kissed Jessie just a little longer than she kissed him.
Jessie took off her jacket, then took Bobby’s hand and walked him over to the couch. He rested his arm on the back of the couch and leaned on his hand. She didn’t blink. "This isn’t smart, Jess," he said at last. "I really should kick you out."
"It would be beneath me to stop you, so go right ahead."
He kissed her again. "This isn’t what I thought it would be."
"You’re overthinking this," Jessie said. "Don’t worry about before or after. Don’t analyze what it means."
"Don’t you care about my intentions?"
"For God’s sake!" Jessie pushed him over and kissed him again. He grabbed her arms, then her hips. She pulled back. "I’m sorry, did you want to finish what you were saying about this being a bad idea?"
"You’re wicked Jess," he said as he pulled her back into a kiss.
She laughed. "And that’s why you like me."
CHAPTER 13
Sunday was extremely tense at the Bartolome-Hendrickson house. Miranda came home at ten that morning and found Zainab up. Zainab shrugged when Miranda asked after Richard and Jessie. They were both about to go out for brunch when the door opened. Richard, unshaven and sleepless, walked in. He started apologizing for not calling, but Zainab shook her head. Miranda was just about to invite Richard out for breakfast with them when Jessie strolled in.
"Where have you been?" Richard asked angrily.
Jessie looked him up and down. "I could ask you the same thing, buddy."
"I was at work," Richard said, and Miranda noticed that he clenched his fist. He never did things like that, no matter how angry Jessie made him. "Where were you?"
"I was at a friend’s," Jessie said as she put down her jacket.
"Call next time, Jess." Jessie looked at Zainab, and she knew that Emily had spoken to her.
"Yeah, sorry—I hope you weren’t up worrying." Then she looked at Richard. "But maybe that’s no big deal, since I think she was probably up anyway."
"Jessie, stay out of this," Richard said angrily.
"Fine, Richard. Then stop acting like I’m fourteen!"
"Jess," Miranda said gently. "We were just worried."
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