WEDNESDAY MORNING
Never pick one of your favorite hangouts to tell your friend you’ve been cheating with her husband. Because when it’s all over, you’ll never be able to go back there. It’s like splitting up friends after a divorce—there’s always casualties.
As the sun emerged, wakening my riotous thoughts, I called Robin for a gossip session at our usual coffeehouse, and I had made my first mistake.
Something about the South Side brought me to life as I wove through the bustling sidewalks, my flip-flops slapping against the cracked concrete. The rows of two-story brick buildings with their cluttered shop windows always held an earthy, hipster charm. I would never be as cool as the millennials who shopped and partied and tattooed themselves on this long stretch of storefronts, but I could still appreciate their culture. It revitalized me, gave me my youth back if only for as long as it took me to finish this cup of coffee.
Italians and coffee were a package deal, like Pittsburghers were with their Steelers football. You couldn’t have one without the other. Espresso was my weakness, and on some mornings, it was my reason for living.
Big Dog Coffee was a favorite of mine, not just for the savory brew but also for the oatmeal bar. An ingenious invention, if you ask me. A healthy, delicious, and perfectly customized breakfast. Though, as a fitness instructor, maybe I was biased.
Midmorning was always one of the busiest times of day, but today only a handful of patrons were scattered at square wooden tables around the trendy coffee shop. I preferred the hubbub of conversation to hushed emptiness where my conversation echoed off the walls. It felt cozier, more private in a room full of chatting people. Don’t ask me why, because I couldn’t explain it if I tried.
Robin sat across from me beneath a gorgeously chaotic painting of oranges and blues and yellows that resembled a bridge leading into downtown Pittsburgh. She sipped her latte while I admired the froth shaped like a flower floating on my espresso.
Her ponytail bounced, just like her personality. Peppy bangs shiny and conditioned, wearing formfitting yoga pants and a cute matching athletic top. She wore it for style; I wore mine for purpose.
As my gaze wandered, I regretted picking this spot to do this. This memory would spoil any good feelings I’d had, because I’d never be able to walk back in here without the rush of guilt following me. But it was too late for regret and a small price to pay losing my favorite coffee shop after what I’d done behind Robin’s back.
I was readying myself, armed with only my dark roast. I was too nauseous to eat. We’d delivered our morning greetings, complimented the perfect May weather, and nestled into idle conversation. Getting around to the confession was all that was left to do, but it was the hardest part.
“I’m glad we could get this girl time together. It’s never just you and me anymore,” Robin observed. After dropping Lucas off at school, she’d left Collette home with Grant, who had cleared his schedule for a much-needed day off. I knew because he had texted me about it, hinting at seeing me. Luckily I had already planned to tell all, or I might have actually considered his offer.
A weak-willed Jezebel. That’s who I am.
I’d rehearsed my lines in my head, then pictured the aftermath. Robin would storm home to Grant, who’d be there to win her back with apologies and fine jewelry. My timing would be perfect, unless he didn’t come through for Robin as I hoped.
“Sorry about that. I’ve been a bad friend lately. My business has been crazy—lots of new clients, plus I’m working on creating a few new dietary programs. But I’m glad we could sit down and catch up today.”
I didn’t know how to segue into the part about sleeping with her husband. There was no natural transition from my work schedule’s insane to but I made time to sleep with your husband and please don’t kill me.
“That’s great, Lil. So business is booming, huh?”
“Well, it pays the bills. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Just as the courage erupted to get it over with, my cell phone rang. I glanced at the number—not one I recognized. Perhaps a new client referral I shouldn’t pass up.
“One sec. I should probably get this.” I answered the call, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hello, this is Lily Santoro for Workout Wonder.”
A long pause.
“Ciao?” I asked again.
I almost thought the caller had hung up until I heard a breathless, “Fuck. You.”
“Hello? Who is this?”
Then dead air.
“I malano miau, they friggin’ hung up!” I muttered.
The voice was wispy, like a ghost from the past. I couldn’t quite make out whether it was male or female, but who would call to cuss me out? An angry client? I had none that I knew of, not that angry . . . except for Irving, the lawsuit-happy bastard.
“You okay?” Robin asked.
“Yeah.” My hands trembled as I turned off my cell phone and pocketed it. I didn’t want whoever it was calling me back. “Sorry about that. Must have been a wrong number. So, how about you? Are you staying busy?”
Robin dropped her chin on her hands, giving me a forlorn vibe. Oh merda. She needed a favor. “Not really, no. I need a job. Desperately.”
I fell back against my chair. Robin—a job? She hadn’t worked since meeting Grant, which was fifteen years ago. Since then she lived for making home-cooked meals, dusting, mopping, baking, nursing . . . all that selfless wifedom and mommyhood crap I couldn’t stand.
“What about retail again? You did that for a bit after college. Flexible hours, mindless work—no offense—employee discount . . . you were good at that, weren’t you?”
“Lil, I was awful with customers! Remember? I was perpetually late, I hated running registers, and I got in trouble for talking too much with coworkers. It wasn’t the right fit for me.”
“What about waitressing?”
“No way. Remember last time I had to run around carrying trays of food? I’d get fired on the first day. You know how clumsy I am.”
She flung out her hands in a self-deprecating gesture, sending her full coffee mug crashing to the floor. An idle barista came over to fetch Robin a fresh cup and to clean up the mess. Robin mouthed a mortified sorry at her.
When we’d both finished laughing at this demonstration, she added: “Besides, I need to make more than a buck fifty an hour.”
“Plus tips,” I added with mock enthusiasm.
“Which I never got. I think I lost money with waitressing because my boss would dock my pay when I’d break stuff.”
We both laughed as I recounted the time she’d spilled hot coffee on Tony’s crotch the first time she met him. From that moment on, whenever she offered him coffee he covered his groin.
“So anyway, Lil, I was glad you called me this morning. I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
“Okay.” I gulped my espresso, anything to avoid eye contact. Did she know about me and Grant? I inhaled a cleansing breath and prepared myself for the worst.
“I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of debt. Actually, a lot of debt.”
Thank God, thank God, thank God. This was about her, not me. I was all ears.
“How much debt?”
“Over $42,000 . . . on my credit card . . . at a huge interest rate.”
“What?” I exclaimed. I knew Robin could be an impulse shopper . . . there wasn’t a sale she could resist. But debt of this magnitude? “Are you serious? Robin, that’s major. What credit card even has a limit that high?”
She groaned and dramatically flew back against the chair, face creased with worry. “I don’t know how my line of credit got extended so much. I think maybe it was part of a home equity line, but all I know is my interest rate is crazy high. Like twenty-one percent high.”
“Robin, you’ll never pay that off. What the hell were you thinking? And does Grant know?”
“No, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I can’t tell him. He’ll flip out. He works so hard and we’re barely scraping by. We live paycheck-to-paycheck because we’re still paying off his student loan debt and all the medical equipment costs. He’s a doctor and we’re broke! How did I get into this so deep? I need help, Lil.”
“No kidding. You’re spending hundreds if not thousands of dollars each month on . . . what? What shit are you buying anyway?”
“You know how I started selling stuff?”
Oh yes, I remembered those days quite well, especially since she’d always come begging me to purchase something, anything. The numerous online business ventures she’d tried on like swimsuits in a fitting room, none of which “fit.” Each one required upfront costs, and each one ended in a flop. From selling makeup to jewelry to leggings to essential oils to cleaning products to God knows what else, I’d lost track.
Rule number one in friendship: Don’t try to sell stuff to your friends. They’ll resent you for it later.
“Well, I was buying all these starter kits and then the product costs started adding up. Then I was selling that clothing line through Facebook parties, but that was almost a thousand dollars in start-up costs. Those online businesses cost money, but you’ve got to spend money to make money, you know?”
I shook my head, and her lips drooped in a disappointed frown. “Robin, you change jobs like you’re changing underwear. If you’re telling me you’ve spent forty-two grand on makeup and clothes, then there is something bigger that’s wrong here.” I tapped my temple. “Up here. You need help.”
“Oh come on. It’s not like it was just makeup and clothes, Lil. Some of it was toward vacations, new furniture, random stuff around the house.”
“So Grant probably has some idea of the debt if he knew you were buying furniture and making home improvements, right?”
“I don’t think so. He’s oblivious about the financials. He never looks at our bank accounts—and I mean never. I’m in charge of all of that. He’s already uptight about the two car payments, both our student loans, and a mortgage we can’t afford . . .”
“Wait, you’re still paying off your student loan debt too? You’re forty years old, Robin! What the hell?”
“I deferred it. And deferred it again. I can’t defer it anymore, though.”
“You’ve got to tell Grant. He needs to know. Together you can come up with a budget to pay it off.”
“That’s just it, Lil. I need to get a job before I tell him to show him I’m serious about helping to pay it off. Something tolerable. Would you be willing to hire me to do something? Maybe admin work? Answering phones? Setting up appointments? Anything?”
Robin would be the absolute worst thing for my business. She was scatterbrained and unreliable. But how could I say no? Truth was, I owed this to her. I owed her anything she wanted, considering my betrayal. But she didn’t know about that yet, and I was having second thoughts about telling her. She needed a friend more than she needed my honesty. After all, she was climbing out of a pit of debt. Maybe telling her now wasn’t the best timing.
And then an idea knocked. I could help her out with her financial crisis, win her favor, then maybe the blow wouldn’t be so hard when I told her. It could all end up okay. It had to.
“Of course, Robin. Whatever you need, you know I’m here for you. I could use a personal assistant right now, at least until you find something more suited to you.”
“This is why you’re my best friend, Lil. Thank you. I promise I won’t let you down.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
I knew I was playing with dynamite. Never mix friends and business—everyone knew this rule (even those who didn’t know the rule about not selling stuff to friends). Smart people followed this rule. But I didn’t have the luxury of playing it smart, because guilt was taking the wheel. I’d be placing my carefully nurtured fitness company into the hands of the terribly undependable Robin, whose flighty attitude when it came to business could ruin me. But I ruined her first, didn’t I? The only difference was that I deserved it.
I could anticipate the end before it began. It’d be a miracle if our friendship survived.