“Excellent. So when will those two parts be in?”
“That’s the bad news. One is coming from California so that should be here tomorrow. The other, the closest part we could find is in Detroit. So, you are looking at another seven to ten.”
“Days?” I shout through the phone.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can’t you just put the other pieces on and find a way to patch it up until it gets in?” I’m practically screeching through the line.
“Uh, no, ma’am. There’s no way to just patch it up with the extreme damage that was caused from your accident. I’m really sorry. I understand it’s an inconvenience, but we are doing the best we can.” I pull the phone away from my ear, cover the mouth speaker and let out a scream. I take a cleansing breath before bringing the phone back to my ear.
“What was your name again?”
“It’s Jared, ma’am.”
“Jared, I need you to do me a favor?”
“Sure thing, what’s that?”
“I need you to not call me back until my car is fixed or until you have good news, okay? Also, please stop calling me ma’am, you’re making me feel fucking ancient. Just Kate, please.” A deep chuckle comes through.
“Yes, m—er—Kate. I will make a note of it in your file.”
“Thank you, Jared. Now, please just fix my car.” He says good-bye and I drop my phone in my bag. I wave to Teagan and Marc, the only two left in the office before I head out to my rental. I’m going to have to return the damn thing. I can’t do another week on my own dime. This sucks. I’m so ready for things to go back to the way they were. When I can go to my own home to my own space after driving my own car.
But then I think of my news about the art show on Saturday. I can’t believe Marc was really able to get me in. I will have ten photographs featured in the New and Noteworthy section and any sales will be split between myself and Phoenix Children’s Hospital, the benefactor of this year’s event. I also have six seats at the table to fill. I already texted Evie—Tate and her are two. I’m three and I’m thinking of asking Trent to be my date. We’ll wrap up our work together by the end of the week and I promised to go out with him. I think he’ll like it, schmoozing with all the movers and shakers. Plus, he will look incredible by my side.
I texted Melissa, but she and Drew already had plans to rent a beach house for the week and leave Friday, so they’re out. I wonder if Jon would go? He really liked my work the other day and honestly, if it hadn’t been for his snooping in my office last week I wouldn’t have brought the prints out today. I’m sure it’s not his scene, but it would mean a lot to have him there.
I’m excited to tell him my news, and I hope he’s still home when I get back. He hasn’t broken down once since Friday night and I doubt he will again. At least, not in front of me. He’s strong and independent. I caught him in a weak moment. I like that I was able to be there for him, though. I feel value in that he trusts me enough to share that side of himself.
As I pull into my space I’m pleased to see his truck’s still in the lot. He works so many nights that it’s normal to not see him until my morning yoga sessions in the living room. I traipse down the path to our apartment door, the brutal heat pricking my skin.
The sounds of pans banging and food cooking fill my senses. Yum. I love it when Jon cooks. He prepares simple dishes but they hit the spot. I hope he’s making extra. I throw my bag and close the door.
“Honey, I’m home!” I call out as I kick off my heels and plop down on a barstool. “Smells good.” Jon pauses briefly to flash me a grin.
“I’m making dinner for us. I hope you’re hungry. You have a good day at work?” He continues to chop and dice a slew of veggies. Some kind of meat sizzles in the skillet.
“Work was work, but I have some exciting news to share.” He sets down the knife and leans against the edge of the counter to give me his full attention. He wears an open smile and something inside me warms to know we have this close relationship again. Not the same as when we were teens because we’re different people now, but there are no defensive walls resurrected. I’ve never felt more comfortable around him. He’s someone I consider a best friend. I smile widely with the realization.
“Okay, so you know how you found my secret photography collection last week?”
“Yeah, Pervy McPerverson, how can I forget? The sight of so many penises are permanently burned into my retinas.”
“Hardy har har. Well, I pulled them out during my lunch break. I don’t know why. I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since you snooped. And anyway, Marc barged into my office. Long story short, I’m outted. Marc was adamant they be included in a show. So, we have this big charity gala we always support each year, it’s this Saturday night, and they agreed to feature ten of my prints!” I practically squeal the last part. Talking about it outside of work is so much more exciting. I don’t have to hold back or play it cool.
“That’s great news, Kate!” He comes around the bar to wrap me in a hug. “I’m so damn proud of you.” He pulls away and turns to finish dinner. As soon as he releases me from his embrace I miss the warmth. It’s probably the excitement of the day but I wish I could pull him back in for a hug. I watch him toss the veggies in the dish and move them around with the spatula.
“So, I only have a few tickets for the event. It’s black tie formal, which I think is silly because, hello, it’s fucking summer in Arizona, but I was sort of hoping you would want to go.” Jon sets the utensil down and turns the heat off the stove before he lifts his chin to gaze my way. “You want me to go?” His voice is full of question and surprise.
“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re the reason I even felt the need to pull my porn stash out during work hours.” His surprise stretches into a grin and he dishes out plates. “And you can bring a date. It’ll be fun!” I giggle but his expression turns sour.
He doesn’t meet my eyes and studies the food. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll go.” He slides our plates to where I sit and walks around to join me.
“I take it you have a date, then?”
“Yeah, I’m going to ask Trent. But Evie and Tate are going too, so you’ll know them. And everyone from work.” I pick up my fork and take a few bites. I feel as though a gray cloud has settled over our comfortable conversation but I don’t know exactly what’s changed. Jon eats, staring forward between bites, not meeting my eyes, his brooding expression back. I don’t know what to say as I pick at my food, and relief floods when he breaks the silence.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something about your photography. Just something I’ve been wondering since last week.”
“Ask away.”
“So the subjects, your models, they’re guys you find, right?”
“Yeah. Is that your question?” I force a laugh. He’s being weird.
“So, then, have you slept with every guy you photograph?”
“Jon, I’ve photographed at least eighty different guys.” I attempt to keep my smile in place, but I feel it wavering.
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m asking.” Oh, my god. He’s serious. He’s seriously asking me this question. If I’ve casually fucked eighty men. Is this how he sees me? After everything we’ve been through this weekend. After me wishing he wouldn’t stop holding me not five minutes ago. I lose my mind. All I see is red.
“A little advice? The next time you feel the need to call me a slut, maybe you don’t say it to my face?” Crashing my fork onto the plate, I stand.
“Kate, I—”
“No. Save it. I don’t need to hear anything else. You’ve made your thoughts perfectly clear.” I stomp down the hall.
“If you don’t want me to go to the gala, I won’t.” I hear him mutter from where he still sits. I turn to glare in his direction.
“No. You’re an asshole, but you’re the reason my work’s being showcased in the first place. You should come. Bring a date who’s not such a whore. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”