Chapter One
“My coach says we are the CEOs of our own lives.”
Hmm. I like the sound of that so I keep listening. I’ve never been interested in CEO-ing anything, much less myself, but now that I hear it, it sounds right. Plus the advice is coming from a bona fide life coach, so it must have merit. I wonder if I should get a life coach? I bet successful people have life coaches. Happy people. People who have their shit together.
I don’t have my shit together. If I had my shit together I wouldn’t be stopping at a coffee shop to buy a muffin for dinner because I’ve run out of real groceries in the middle of the week.
To be fair, winging it has worked well for me thus far, but maybe I’m capable of more? Maybe I’ve got untapped potential I don’t even know about yet? Maybe with the guidance of a life coach I could be that girl who has her shit together and wears four-inch heels on a Tuesday. With blown-dry hair and wearing a smart shirt dress with a slim belt, just like Meghan.
Fucking Meghan.
I usually braid my hair after my shower and let it air-dry until I get to work. Then I unbraid it before I get out of the car and tousle it with my fingers. I’ve got thick blonde hair and the braiding thing gives me a beachy look I get a lot of compliments on, but maybe people are simply being nice? I twist a lock of hair around my finger and hold it in my line of vision before dropping it. I eye Meghan’s hair once again, wondering how it’s still silky straight at seven pm.
I wonder if her life coach gave her a referral to a good hairdresser? I bet they did. I bet they give her all the best referrals.
The line moves and I shuffle forward, along with Meghan.
“My coach says I have internal resistance to living the life of my dreams.”
Oh, my God. I have that too. I have that same thing. I’ve always been sure I’m on the cusp of living the life of my dreams, but then something gets in my way. Like reality. Well, that’s settled then, isn’t it? I definitely need a life coach. I wonder if Meghan will share who she’s using? I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t, it’s not like I know her, so we’re not in a competition, but you never know. People can be so stingy with information. I stop twirling my phone in my hand and use it to look up ‘Life Coaches Las Vegas’ while I wait for Meghan to finish her call so I can ask her.
Oh, wow. There’s like a million search results.
The Best 10 Life Coaches in Las Vegas, NV
Life Coaching Therapists in Las Vegas, NV
17 Best Las Vegas Life Coaches
That last one is weird, right? Seventeen? You don’t stop a list at seventeen, it’s just petty. I bet whoever made that list hated the life coach who ranked eighteenth so out of spite they ended the list at seventeen.
I feel you, number eighteen.
“Tonight we’re going to work on shifting my internal blocks,” Meghan continues, so I focus on listening to her while I click on the link to the article with the ten best life coaches, because I feel that too, about the internal blocks. I think. Except… except I usually do whatever the hell I feel like doing, so maybe I don’t have internal blocks? Or maybe doing whatever the hell I feel like doing is blocking me from doing something better?
“We meet at that new Grind Me Café that opened in Henderson,” Meghan tells whoever she’s on the phone with, and my ears perk up, because that’s where I’m at—standing in line behind her at the new Grind Me Café! When I saw the sign go up I thought it was a clever name for a sex toy store, but when I went in the first time I realized they meant grind like coffee beans, not like—well, never mind. It’s a coffee shop—the very one Meghan is meeting her life coach at. And, not for nothing, they have excellent banana nut muffins, but the point is this must be kismet, which is a fancier word for fate but still means the same thing.
What are the chances that I’d be in the same coffee shop, in the same line, at the same time as a woman who probably maybe has some of the same issues I do?
The chances are low. Well, honestly I have no idea what the chances are but for the sake of argument, let’s agree they’re low.
Also.
The other thing is…
I bet life coaches are expensive. And we already know that Meghan and I have probably maybe some of the same issues. So. I should stick around and see if this life coach and I are compatible. Right? That makes perfect sense.
Meghan reaches the front of the line and moves the phone away from her lips long enough to order a medium black decaffeinated coffee, which is another thing we have in common, because I drink coffee too. With cream and sugar, but it’s still coffee.
I place an order for the same thing and add a muffin because that was why I stopped here in the first place—to buy a muffin for dinner. Meghan probably had a grilled chicken breast for dinner with a side of kale because her life is coached. She’s not flying by the seat of her pants and eating muffins for dinner because she ran out of Cheez-Its. Never ever. I take my time adding cream and a packet of sweetener to my coffee while Meghan finds a table and wouldn’t you know it, there’s an empty table next to hers. Luck or kismet? Hmm? Either way, this kind of opportunity cannot be ignored.
So I sit.
At the table next to hers, slipping a set of ear buds into my ears. I don’t turn them on, obviously. They’re just a diversion to make it less obvious that I’m eavesdropping.
That sounds so sordid—eavesdropping. It’s more of a sampling situation, like when you go to the grocery store and they’re offering samples. If Meghan didn’t want me to sample her life coaching session she should have had it somewhere a bit more private, am I right? Besides, kismet has decided that I’m meant to be here right now, sampling, and everyone knows you can’t fight kismet.
I’ve no idea if I’m using the word ‘kismet’ correctly but I’m sure that’s the spirit of it. Sure enough anyway.
I place the muffin on top of a napkin before I dig a pen out of my handbag and smooth a second napkin out for note-taking. I’m just a girl enjoying her own company with a cup of coffee and a muffin, incognito-ing like a baller. I stuff a bit of muffin into my mouth and resume the search for the best life coaches in Las Vegas while I wait for Meghan’s to show up, because if tonight’s appointment goes well I’m totally getting my own coach.
Except.
Oh, holy hot damn, life coaches are popular. Real popular. I sip my coffee and work my way through the top ten list. The website for number one claims they have a one-year waiting list.
One. Year.
I toss my pen onto the table and sigh. Like I’m supposed to wait an entire year to get my life together? I’m no expert in life-ing but that doesn’t seem right. I move on to the website for number two, which claims they’re not accepting any new clients at this time. I can’t even get on the waiting list for number two.
Dumb.
Coach three is the same. I don’t care for the vibe of coaches four and five so I don’t bother checking their wait lists. Coach six is an attractive man who has no right coaching anything but my orgasms. So he’s out because I’m not paying for that.
I like number seven but… wait. Wait one minute. Is that price correct? I assumed they’d be expensive, but not that expensive. Who in the hell can afford that? Only a person with their life already together, that’s who. Kismet is stupid. Why did it cause me to want a muffin for dinner, stop at this specific coffee shop and stand in line behind Meghan while she was blabbing loudly enough for the entire shop to hear her if I wasn’t meant to get a life coach? Running out of Cheez-Its yesterday can’t possibly have been a coincidence either—it was the catalyst for this entire sequence of events.