Can I See You Again? by Allison Morgan

man?” Gwen says as I enter the conference room.
    I peek through the glass at Nixon.
    He playfully punches his nephew in the arm as the two walk away.
    Just like I thought, a mushy center.

eight
    â€œFor the love of God, why are we having this conversation again?” Randi says, at ten minutes to eight o’clock the following morning.
    Is that smoke billowing from her ears?
    â€œDon’t you hear me?”
    Yes, because you’re yelling at me.
    â€œThe paper has a very specific vision. And, as we discussed already, the contract is binding. If your boyfriend doesn’t show, then this interview is off and so is your chance at a bestseller.” She stirs her Bloody Mary with a celery stalk.
    I wrestled in bed all night long, tossing and turning (that makes two nights in a row), uncertain what to do. But once the sun crested and light spilled into my bedroom, I decided not to lie. I won’t lie. I will tell the truth. Yes, I want my book to do well, but not at the expense of deception.
    â€œThis isn’t hard to understand,” she snaps.
    â€œI’m sorry to be difficult, but there’s no way—”
    â€œBree, can I talk to you for a moment?” Andrew interrupts.
    â€œIn a minute,” I tell him. “I know the contract says—”
    â€œIt’ll just take a second.” Andrew steps closer.
    Andrew and I have an agreement that the other one is to step in if a client or salesperson overstays their welcome and we need rescuing. But surely Andrew can appreciate the difference here?
    â€œPlease, Bree,” he says, a bit more agitated.
    What is his problem?
“Sorry, Randi, I apologize for the—”
    â€œI need to speak with you now!” Andrew nearly shrieks, waving his hands in the air as if trying to scare away a bat dive-bombing his head.
    Good Lord.
“Excuse me, Randi.” I join Andrew in the break room. “Are you kidding me right now? What is so important? And don’t you dare say you called me over just to tell me Netflix released another season of
Supernatural
.”
    â€œYou can’t tell the truth.”
    â€œYes, I can. Don’t worry, I’ll still be at Randi’s beck and call and I’ll convince the paper to continue with the interviews. I just don’t need a boyfriend beside me to validate my expertise.” I start to step away, but Andrew grabs my arm.
    What the heck?
    â€œ
Can I See You Again?
has got to become a bestseller. Think of Jo.”
    â€œWhat’s with you?” I peel his fingers off my arm. “Is this about her letter? I appreciate your concern, but we don’t even know if the letter is legit.”
    â€œWe do now. Your attorney just e-mailed. The letter is the real deal.”
    â€œIt is? Damn. I feared this would happen. Okay, well—”
    â€œAnd he can’t stop the auction.”
    â€œAuction? What auction? He said, ‘auction’?”
    â€œHe did. If you don’t come up with the money, Jo loses her house.”
    â€œOh my God.” I press my hands against my forehead andpace back and forth in front of the sink. “Her house? They can’t take her house. Can they take her house? Are you sure he said ‘auction’?”
    â€œI’m afraid so. I checked the business account. You can spare maybe ten grand.”
    And, thanks to my investment deposit and the lawyer’s retainer, same goes for my savings account.
    Wish I hadn’t blown my $10,000 book advance on ten days in Wailea with Sean, especially since the sex on the beach was hardly worth the sand in inappropriate places. Stupid, stupid, selfish Bree.
    But, Jesus, my G-pa built that house. Their handprints are cemented in the sidewalk. My mom’s growth chart is penciled on the wall behind the laundry room door. “I promised Jo, Andrew. I promised that she’d never have to leave that house. I’ve taken so much from her . . . and now her