‘It wasn’t Franklin’s fault,’ Angie said.
We were eating at our apartment for a change. I had been spending a lot of time at Patrick’s house, but now I wanted to be with my roommate, my best friend, my companion, the woman who had moved herself 3,000 miles just to watch out for me. You don’t see that kind of loyalty and devotion in the vast majority of people, and I felt it was more than due time that I showed Angie some appreciation.
OK, so I wanted to give myself time to think before I continued the conversation with Patrick. So sue me.
‘I know Judge Franklin never saw the request for an adjournment on Patrick’s trial,’ I told her. I put my feet up on the coffee table and lost myself in the sofa cushion. Sweatpants and an old T-shirt felt good. ‘But I didn’t find that out until much later and I’d already decided I resented him.’
‘What I’m saying is that there’s no reason to carry that over to this guy’s trial.’ Angie was doing pushups and planks on the floor because she’s Angie and wants to be both strong and sexy. I can’t personally attest to the latter, but I’ve seen men look at her and I know she can lift heavy objects and throw a very effective punch. I’ve seen it. You don’t want to. ‘In the end, the judge was completely fair.’
I hate it when she’s right.
The doorbell rang and there was a guy with the pad thai we’d ordered and which, frankly, I’d kind of forgotten about. But it gave me a good way to get out of the conversation because I knew I was going to lose.
‘Patrick wants me to move in with him,’ I told Angie when we’d settled in and started eating (turned out I did want the Thai food after all). I watched her face carefully as I told her to gauge her reaction. Angie has always thought that Patrick and I were destined for each other and does nothing but advocate on his behalf.
So it startled me a bit to see her frown when I said that. ‘Are you gonna do it?’ she asked, revealing nothing in her voice.
‘Why? Do you think I shouldn’t?’ Any argument Angie offered would be helpful. I felt deep in my gut that I should tell Patrick it was too soon (it wasn’t) or that I wasn’t sure I loved him (that wasn’t going to fly), so an alternate excuse would be useful.
Why didn’t I want to move in with Patrick? That was something I’d need to think about later for sure. Because on paper it was absolutely the right move. My mother called twice a week to see if Patrick and I were getting married ‘yet’. Patrick would probably have agreed with her. I was the stick in the mud. Why?
Later.
‘Well for one thing, that would leave me without a place to live, unless I’m coming as your valet.’ Angie had a point. She couldn’t afford the rent in this place on her own even though Patrick paid her nicely. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Los Angeles (or in our case, Burbank) was not an inexpensive place to call home.
‘There’s enough rooms. You could probably have your own wing.’ For one demented second, the idea of bringing Angie along to live in Patrick’s ginormous house felt logical.
‘Great,’ she said, dropping her fork (we weren’t using chopsticks because who are we impressing?). ‘I can be installed as the permanent fifth wheel at Patrick’s house. It’s not like I don’t see him all day everyday anyway.’ There had been a time when spending five minutes with Patrick McNabb was essentially Angie’s idea of heaven. She still loved him and was still in awe to an extent, but as his assistant she had normalized him. He was now Patrick, the guy she worked for who dated her roommate.
Probably her moving in with us was a bad idea.
‘I was joking,’ I said.
‘Sure you were.’
Neither of us ate anything for a full minute. ‘What do you think I should do, Ang? I mean, Patrick’s never been anything but wonderful to me, whenever he wasn’t driving me crazy and even sometimes when he was. How come I’m not jumping at the chance to live with him?’
Angie is my conscience. She’s my level. She tells me the truth when no one else is willing or able to find it. ‘I dunno,’ she said.
So that was a huge help.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘The last thing I need right now is for you to hold back because you’re afraid to hurt my feelings.’
Angie’s lips moved left into something approaching a sneer. ‘I’m not afraid of hurting your feelings. I’m afraid you’re going to snitch on me to my boss.’
Snitch on her? ‘Do you know something about Patrick that I need to know?’ Was he seeing someone else on the side? Would I be hurt or relieved? Hurt.
‘Nothing you don’t know. You said it yourself, Sand. Patrick is all about the pursuit. He goes after a woman he wants to fall in love with him, and then once she does, well, he still likes her well enough but he’s not as passionate about her as he used to be. It was true when he got married and it was true with that nutjob he was going to marry last year before you talked him out of it.’
‘Yeah and look how well that worked out.’ Patrick’s most recent fiancée was currently awaiting trial on charges of attempted murder, conspiracy, and a few things the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s office had thrown in for a laugh.
‘I’m just saying.’ Angie stood up and repackaged her food for storage in the fridge, just as I was about to do. Neither of us felt like eating anymore. ‘You’re skittish because you’re afraid that once he knows he has you, he won’t want you anymore.’
Like I said. I hate it when she’s right.