The Status of All Things (11 page)

“What if I could make that happen for you?” I ask, a smile playing on my lips.

“You mean you could make a wish that she’ll go out with me? Please! Her last boyfriend was on the Olympic swimming team! She’d go from that kind of guy to
me
?
I mean I know I’m a hunk and all, but she barely even said hi to me when we shot that commercial. And now she’ll be my girlfriend?”

“Not girlfriend—
date
. I’ll wish for her to say yes to a date with you, but then it will be your job to work that famous Liam charm on her,” I say, thinking again that no one should be forced to feel anything they don’t actually believe in their heart.

Liam rolls his eyes.

“Listen, I get that it sounds like I’ve gone cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs here, but do you really think I could—
or would
want
—to make this stuff up?”

“You’re in advertising, isn’t that your thing?” he taunts.

“Do you want a chance with Nikki Day or not?”

“All right. I’ll bite.”

I pull up Facebook on my phone and type:

Wow—Did y’all hear that Liam and Nikki Day are dating?

I turn so he can see the screen. “You think you can handle this?” I say, and pray that the universe will consider my request even though it’s not technically
for
me. But it had worked with Jules and I had a strong feeling the powers that be would grant this one too—these were my best friends, and what happened to them affected me as well.

He pulls the phone out of my hand. “You’re actually saying that’s going to happen?” He points to the words I’ve just written. “As soon as you hit post, poof, I’m hooking up with the hottest actress on the planet?” He laughs nervously.

“If you think this is all bullshit, then it won’t matter, right?” I challenge.

Liam stares at me for a minute before reaching over and posting the update. “Why the hell not? Let’s test this sucker out,” he says, just as Thai Elvis belts out the first line of “Love Me Tender.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“The green is my favorite,” I declare as I fan the assortment of men’s neon briefs on the conference table, trying to focus my attention away from Courtney, her glossy lips turned downward in a pout as she buries her nose in her cell phone, only half listening as Magda and I debate the shade of underwear the Calvin Klein model should wear in the billboard ads, Magda arguing that pink will pop more against the black-and-white background, and me pointing out that Hanes just used a similar shade in a recent print advertisement. The junior associates and interns watch us lob arguments back and forth like we’re playing a tennis match.

As Magda clamors on about how hot the color pink is this year, I can’t seem to force my gaze away from Courtney, surprised by her insubordination. If Magda had demoted me, I’d be doing everything I could to win back her favor—even the assistant-like duties she’s been assigned. Which is what I thought Courtney would do—throw herself into her work and claw her way back to the top. Instead, she seems to have given up, her attitude like that of a senior in high school who is already imagining herself on a college campus somewhere far away. Courtney’s cell vibrates and a sly smile forms on her lips as she reads a message. As
her cheeks flush, I feel a burn in my chest—
is she texting Max?

“Courtney, what do you think?” I ask suddenly, grabbing the briefs and dangling them in front of her, a silence falling over the conference room. The staff members pivot their necks quickly, no doubt curious how she’ll respond, since the news of her “reassignment” had traveled quickly through the office, tons of rumors swirling about what had
really
happened between Magda and Courtney—the one about a secret lesbian love affair being my personal favorite.

Courtney stares at me for a moment, barely glancing at the underwear between my fingertips. “Either one,” she finally says, ignoring Magda’s sharp look from across the table. “
You’re
in charge now. Whatever
you
want—” She squints her eyes at me, then whispers, “Boss.”

“Okay, then,” I stammer. “Let’s suggest to the client that we do some test shots before we make a final decision.”

Magda purses her lips and gives me a quick half nod—her equivalent of a yes—just as Courtney releases a quiet laugh after her phone vibrates again. As everyone starts to file out of the room, frantic thoughts speed through my mind like sprinters rushing to the finish line of a hundred-yard dash, and I envision the texts that she and Max could be exchanging.

I imagine him and Courtney bantering about the Soul Asylum concert they were seeing at El Portal in North Hollywood tonight. Shooting texts back and forth like:

Think they’ll play “Somebody to Shove”? I don’t know, but I will shove someone if they don’t!

An involuntary shiver runs up my arm as I remember the insecurity I’d felt about their relationship the night he’d stumbled
into the bedroom drunk, that feeling I’d buried forcing its way up like a geyser. But even after that surge of jealously, I had never considered that Courtney might be attracted to Max. Although he was objectively attractive, he was nothing like the men she dated—with chiseled stomachs and movie-star good looks. Max was more boy-next-door cute than soap opera handsome. Not to mention she’d always sworn she’d never be caught dead dating anyone under six feet, and with Max barely clearing five foot eight, I never in my wildest dreams thought he’d be on her radar.

Last night, I’d stayed up long after Max fell asleep, going through old pictures and souvenirs I’d saved from our special occasions together. As I’d sifted through the plastic bin, I came across a few ticket stubs from concerts I’d seen with him. I ran my thumb over the one from Jesus Jones, remembering one of our first dates. As we’d noshed on calamari, I’d asked Max to share something I didn’t know about him.

“That’s easy! I’m a huge fan of old-school bands—especially from the nineties. And I love seeing them play live.”

“Like Pearl Jam?” I’d offered.

“Sure, I mean they’re not in my top ten, but yeah.”

Not in his top ten? Then who was?
I’d wondered.

I’d always justified that it was healthy for us to have interests independent of each other—I was a voracious reader and loved going to book signings to meet my favorite authors. Max had joined me once, waiting patiently next to me in line for forty-five minutes to get my tattered copy signed. He hadn’t even complained that he was the only human being with a Y chromosome in the room. But still, I hadn’t missed both the forced smile when I asked him if he was having fun or the not-so-subtle glances at the ESPN home page on his phone while the author read from her novel.

• • •

I grab the front-row-center tickets to Soul Asylum that I wished for earlier and smile, feeling confident that tonight would be critical to getting Max back. Ruby had made a brief appearance at the Thai restaurant the other night, showing up to bus our table after Liam excused himself to use the restroom. As she’d stacked our empty beer bottles and dishes on a tray, she’d sternly warned me that my wishes weren’t unlimited. She’d nodded in the direction of Liam as he made his way back toward us. “Be careful what kind of wishes you make from this point forward, because they are going to run out—
soon
.”

“When?” I’d called after her, but she disappeared into the kitchen without so much as glancing over her shoulder.

But even with the knowledge that the wishes I had left were finite, I had decided tonight was critical to getting us back on track, recalling again the sloppy smile that was painted on Max’s face when he arrived home the last time he’d seen a concert with Courtney. Plus, music is one of Max’s greatest loves, and
I
should be the one sharing that with him. So I hope this will be the night I reclaim my spot not just next to him in front of the stage, but also in his heart.

As I slide the tickets into my tote, I breathe a victorious sigh remembering Courtney’s face after I’d casually mentioned I’d be joining her and Max as we walked out of the Calvin Klein meeting.

“We’d love for you to come,” she’d said, smiling sweetly. “But it’s sold out. Maybe next time?”

I bet you’d love that. Because you’re hoping there won’t be a next time—that by then he’ll have made you his permanent concert date.

“I was able to score five front-row tickets!” I exclaimed, remembering Jules and Liam both telling me I owed them one after I begged them to come as my reinforcements.

Courtney’s mouth had transformed so swiftly from a frown into a smile it was as if someone had just told her to
turn that frown upside down.
“Fantastic,” she said slowly. “But I thought you hated Soul Asylum. What was it you said when Max and I said we were going? That your ears might bleed if you got within a ten-mile radius of El Portal?”

I shrugged. “I guess you could say I had a change of heart.”

She looked at me skeptically. “Okay, but you’d better not make Max leave before all the encores!” She laughed, but underneath it, I heard the edge.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” I said as I ducked into my office, shutting the door and leaning my back against it.

“I’ll be there for him until the very end,” I said to myself, and prayed that I was right.

• • •

Several hours later, I squeeze Max’s hand as he helps me navigate my way out of the back of the sleek Escalade limo I had ordered—
not
wished for. I step out onto the sidewalk and catch my reflection in the window. I’d spent two painstaking hours in front of the mirror, simultaneously watching YouTube instructional videos and applying eye shadow, mascara, and blush until I was semisatisfied. And exercising more willpower than I did when I agreed to do the five-day master cleanse with Jules, I resisted my newfound impulse to wish for a new outfit, instead choosing my favorite little black dress, hoping it would be enough.

Relief washed over me when I heard Max’s whistle as I walked out of the bathroom. “Don’t take this the wrong way,
because you know I always think you look good, but you’ve been looking extra hot lately.” He pulled me in for a kiss. “What’s going on?”

“I just want to make you happy,” I said, the truth of my words bringing tears to the back of my eyes. I squinted hard to hold them in.
Keep it together, Kate
. Before he could respond, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the limo, Max running to answer it.

“Do I make you happy, Max?” I whispered before following him, not sure if I knew the answer anymore.

• • •

“Nice ride.” Courtney walks up as Max is shutting the door to the Escalade. “And you couldn’t pick me up because?” she asks lightly, but there is an accusation in her voice. I’ve seen the confusion in her eyes when I gave her my clipped answers or brushed past her in the kitchen at work this week—and she had probably chalked it up to prewedding stress. Little did she know
she
was my prewedding stress.

I put my arm around Max’s waist possessively. “We needed some alone time,” I say as I wink at her, hoping she’ll assume we’d gotten down and dirty on the way here. The truth was Max had taken a phone call from his boss and had spent most of the ride discussing something about trial results as I Instagrammed pictures of the limo and caught up on my Trivia Crack games.

“Let’s head inside,” Max says, pulling my arm toward the entrance as Courtney falls in step beside us.

“Wait—Liam should be here any minute.” My phone buzzes in my pocket. “This is probably him.”

The text is from Jules, the third she’s sent in less than a
minute, profusely apologizing for canceling. She writes that she wants to kick her babysitter’s ass for coming down with strep throat even though she’s quite sure Ellie gave it to her. And that she wants to kick Ben’s ass for traveling all the time. I text her back immediately, the words from the fight I’d overheard still ringing in my ears, wishing I could help her get some adult time or that I could make Ben get home to her.

It’s FINE! You know I *wish* I could wish for a new babysitter! But I need to be more careful with my wishes—I don’t know how many I have left.

As I wait for her response, I bite my lower lip, understanding but hating at the same time that she won’t be by my side tonight—needing her to tell me it’s all in my imagination when I notice a look or smile shared between Max and Courtney. And wanting her to stare down Courtney with the look of death that she usually only reserves for people who cut her off in traffic or after she wastes her precious free time by watching a bad episode of
Nashville
.

I understand—but at least Liam will still be there! I told him he could have my ticket and he said he’s bringing a date! I want the SCOOP.

I look around. Liam and his mystery date are late. And if he cancels on me too, I’m not sure how I’ll get through this night.

I turn to see Courtney and Max waiting near the door, the matching looks on their faces telling me I am screwing up their preconcert mojo big-time. “Sorry! Just a minute.” I hold up my finger. There is no way I am sending them inside without me.
I scan the people walking up from the parking lot.
Come on, Liam.

He rounds the corner a moment later, his broad shoulders blocking the woman behind him, a dopey grin on his face. When he reaches me, he leans in and whispers, “It worked, Kate. It fucking worked—look who I’m with!”

I glance beyond Liam, where a crowd has already formed around Nikki Day—she’s smiling and signing a man’s arm but shoots Liam a pleading look. “You better go save her,” I say with a laugh, and pull the tickets from my purse.

Once we’re seated, Liam properly introduces us to Nikki. I wince when she compliments Courtney’s new haircut, saying she’s wanted to get the same one, but the producers of her new show won’t let her. “It’s fabulous,” she reiterates as she reaches up to touch it, Courtney blushing modestly.

As I sit sandwiched between the two couples, sipping my Corona, it’s hard not to feel like a fifth wheel, with Liam barely able to tear his eyes away from his date, while Courtney and Max jokingly argue over whether Soul Asylum will play “Without a Trace” or “Runaway Train” for their final
final
encore song.