“Kenny?” Colby asked sheepishly in a tone she had never heard.
She remained silent on the other end.
“Kenny, are you there?” Colby quietly asked again after a few seconds.
Kenny allowed another long pause and replied, “I’m here. Make this fast.”
“I amsosorry. Please hear me out before you hang up,” he pleaded.
“I’m listening. But if this phone call is all about whatyouwant andyouneed, I’m not sticking around,” she asserted.
“Of course!” Colby interjected. “I never meant to hurt you, Kenny, and I didn’t mean to lie to you either. Iwascharged with leading the review team forArmchair Detectiveanddidknow for a few weeks that it wasn’t going to be signed by Border, but I was trying to find the right time to tell you. I planned to break the news to you last Wednesday, but you were so upset about the Clinton White interview that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. That was selfish of me. You’re a big girl, and I know you would’ve been able to handle it. But I wasn’t sureIwould be able to handle seeing you more upset than you already were. Which shows how immature I am. Then Muffin told me she was going on vacation and holding rejection letters until she got back so I thought I had a few more days. You’re always on me about procrastinating. Once again, you were right.”
Kenny blew her nose and wiped her eyes as the tears streamed down her face. She knew he wasn’t allowed to disclose the names of authors or manuscripts that were under his review until a decision about publication was made and the author was alerted. She also knew it wasn’t his sole decision not to publishArmchair Detective.He read the manuscript nearly as many times as she had before she submitted it to Border. She wondered if she was being unfair to him. Maybe she exaggerated her anger toward him.
He continued to ramble and apologize on the other end of the line and Kenny could hear him become more hysterical with each second that she remained silent.
“Fine! Colby, stop. I forgive you,” she tried to stay stern and not fall to pieces.
“I was heartbroken when I got the rejection email from Muffin. But the most hurtful part of the whole thing was the cavalier attitude you had all last Wednesday. Iknowyou can’t talk about the projects you are working on, and Iknowyou aren’t the sole decision maker. But when I was down and out because of the Clinton White interview, you downplayed it and told me I was being dramatic. You should’ve let me vent. And then you talked me into meeting you for a drink I didn’t want and proceeded to list the areas of life where I’m lacking. You should’ve left me alone. All of this while harboring a secret that you knew was going toreallyupset me! It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair,” Kenny lashed, feeling weight lifted with each word coming out of her mouth.
“I treated you like a straight man would treat a woman!” he shrieked. “I’ve tried my whole life to not be one of those guys, and now I’ve gone and acted just like them to the person who means more to me than anything,” he wept.
Her sobs morphed into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“Wait, now you’re laughing? I can’t keep up! The silent treatment, the mixed emotions, and reactions. The anger, the sadness, the underserved forgiveness. It’s too much. I am so sorry. Please forgive me for causing you to be this way,” Colby dramatically carried on.
“Colby,” Kenny caught her breath, “I’m fine. We’re fine. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Never. Never again, Queen,” he said as he regained his composure. “Can you tell me where you are? Are you away for work? Or did you just tell me that, so I’d leave you alone?”
“I really am in South Carolina for the next few weeks,” she answered, contemplating how much of the truth she should share, “but I can’t get into the details now.”
“Of course, I understand. Be careful doing whatever it is that you’re doing. And, um, if you get any free time Muffin is interested in you writing a book,” Colby cautiously mumbled.
“What? What did you just say!” Kenny cut him off.
“She emailed me from Bora Bora. She thinks you would make a brilliant rom-com writer. The Manuscript Eater decided the women’s fiction space needs a fresh author and believes you’re capable of churning out best-selling beach reads,” he said in his best faux-cheery voice.
“You havegotto be kidding me! Did she evenreadArmchair Detective?Does she know I won an Emmy for a miniseries about mass shootings and a Peabody for an expose on police brutality? Romance and chick-flicks aren’t exactly in my repertoire.” She chuckled out of both amusement and offense.
“I know, I know. At least give it some thought. If Muffin Evans wants to publish a new writer in this genre, she will. Why shouldn’t it be you?” he rhetorically asked, although he assumed the proposal fell on deaf ears.
“Yea, probably not. I’m hanging up now,” Kenny said in a way that relayed to Colby things between them were okay again.
“Thanks for forgiving me, Kenny. Love you, mean it, bi-yee!”
Kenny had a habit of walking around aimlessly while she talked on the phone and when she hung up with Colby, she found herself leaning against the His and Hers sinks in the tranquil bathroom. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror and was surprised by what she saw. She hadn’t honestly looked at herself in a long time; and when she did, it was usually only for a quick second to pluck a stray eyebrow or curl her eyelashes.
Although her eyes were still glassy and red from crying, the person staring back at her had a healthy look of relief. The stress Kenny went to great lengths to internalize always crept out on her face, in the forms of lines on her forehand and bags under her eyes. Even the expensive Christian Dior Airflash spray foundation couldn’t conceal the anxiety. Today she didn’t need that foundation, her complexion had a sun-kissed glow, and the lines and bags weren’t visible.
Kenny turned on the spigot, splashed water on her face and massaged a soothing foam wash into her nose, cheeks, forehead, and chin. She worked up more of a sweat than she anticipated while riding her bike and was thoroughly enjoying the few moments of pampering when she was startled by a pound at the back of the house. She patted her skin dry and slowly made her way out of the bedroom. She didn’t know anyone on the island and wasn’t expecting any deliveries, so presumed the knocker was at the wrong villa and wasn’t in a hurry to answer the door.
Thud. Thud. Thud.After the third bang she dropped the towel on the counter and made her way through the bedroom to the door with more urgency.
A short man with olive skin and jet-black hair wearing white painter’s pants, work boots, and a blue and white tie-dyed T-shirt stood on the other side of the sliding glass door, holding a duffel bag the size of a toolbox. The man raised his fist and he was about to take another swift rap at the door when he saw Kenny and unclenched his fingers, giving an energetic wave in her direction.
“Hi, how are you?” Kenny asked as she slid open the door.
