“Right on the living room couch,” she says proudly.
“You’re terrible. No wonder she acts weird around you.”
“It’s not like she was there. She has no idea.”
“As far as you know.” I cringe. “At least I’m safe in my apartment.”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, then smiles instead and puts a forkful of rice in her mouth.
“I’m safe in my apartment, right?” I ask a little louder.
She wiggles her head noncommittally. “I think it’s best that I don’t answer that question.”
I throw my napkin at her.
“Gross, Priscilla.” She uses the tips of her fingers to pick up my napkin by the corner. She tosses it away from her plate. “You just threw your used napkin onto my food.”
“It’s barely used. And at least I didn’t have sex in your house.” I groan. “I don’t even want to know where. Please don’t tell me.”
“Stop being such a baby,” she says, laughing. “It’s sex. What’s the big deal? You and Oliver do it all the time, I’m sure.”
“Not in other people’s beds or couches, or…” I shake my head. “Let’s stop talking about this.”
“Kitchen tables can be fun.”
“Please don’t tell me?—”
“Not yours,” she says. “You should see the look on your face.” She laughs louder.
“I hate you,” I tell her, but I can’t help but laugh too.
“Anyway,” she says. “Ryan and I can pick you up bright and early on Friday. You’ll probably be staying the night at Oliver’s, right? We can just pick you up from there.”
“Yeah. Of course.” At least I have more notice this time so I won’t have to rush over and pretend I’ve been there all along.
“Perfect,” she says. “This is going to be such a fun trip.”
ChapterTwenty-One
The Ick
Over the next few days, I have emails and phone calls coming in from new clients. Most of them are people I met at the flash mob practice, and others heard of me by word of mouth. I start looking into an office space I can rent so that I’ll have a formal place to meet with people. For the first time, I have to use my calendar to make sure I’m not overbooking meetings. It feels good to be busy.
Oliver picks me up on the way to the airfield. It’s about an hour away. It’s the only place we could find two pilots who can write in the sky on such short notice. I want to meet them in person to make sure we’re all on the same page and also to make sure their planes are real and we’re not being scammed.
“I brought snacks,” I say to Oliver as I sit down in the passenger seat.
“Of course you did.” He reaches over to pull the bag open. “Anything good?”
“I only bring good things,” I tell him. I toss a bag of peanut butter cups at him. I keep the trail mix for myself. “I thought you weren’t a snacker.”
“You’re turning me into one.” He unwraps a peanut butter cup and pops it into his mouth. “How much business did you pull in from the other night?” he asks once we’re on the road. “Did everyone who asked you for a business card follow through?”
“Everyone and more. I’ve already had a few meetings and more set up for next week. A couple of people have put down deposits already.”
“And Malcolm?” He keeps his eyes on the road when he asks this.
I watch him, trying to gauge his reason for asking about Malcolm. He gives nothing away. “I’m still trying to figure out how to tell him I can’t work with him. We haven’t signed any agreements yet and he hasn’t paid a deposit, so it’s not like I’m committed to him.”
