This is a business partnership, and I intend to spend every second of my time proving to him that he didn't make a mistake hiring me. I won't be needing sexy clothes.
"Alrighty," Marc says and pretends to give in. Without further ado, he puts the bikini and the dress back into the case.
“Here, have a glass of wine," Marc says and hands me a drinking glass with ice-cold wine. I glance over to the suitcase. Shorts, T-shirts, sun lotion. Not exactly the sort of thing one usually takes on a business trip. I sigh. In reality, I guess there really is nothing usual about this whole situation.
"Here's to you, young lady,” Marc says and raises his glass." I don't say this very often, so you need to listen carefully. You are the coolest person I have ever met. Barely out of school, and already on your way to the top. You are a star!"
In an exaggerated move, he bows and then clicks my glass with his.
"And please allow me to elaborate: when I say on your way to the top, it may not be a professional top. Maybe it's just a mountain top. But hey, it's a fucking top. What more could you ask for?"
We crack up. He’s so freaking silly. I laugh so hard that I spill some of my drink on the bed. Marc is funny, but not that funny. In reality, my laugh is an outlet for a million different emotions. I feel overwhelmed, excited, and anxious. All at the same time.
"Thank you, Mr. Aden," I say and empty my glass. "I can't imagine how you’ll make it through the next month without me. If life gets too rough without me here, you'll have to hop on a plane and come see me. Wherever I am," I said and slam the suitcase closed.
"And now, Mr. Arden, all there is left for me to do before I leave on a private jet at seven in the morning is to sip wine with my best friend and chat till the very morning."
Marc refills our glasses.
"Amen to that, girl!"
I sit down on the bed with him. Suddenly something dawns upon me.
“What? What are you staring at?” he asks. I've been so busy packing that I haven't even noticed how his whole face is glowing.
"What's up with you? Why are you so happy?" I ask.
Marc immediately lights up with a big, bright smile. "I thought you’d never notice! I had sex last night, and it was fan-fucking-tastic!" Of course, he did. I should've known.
"Good for you! And may I ask who the lucky guy is?" With Marc, you never really know. He is a romantic by heart, and ever since I met him, he's been dreaming about meeting Mr. Right and living happily ever after. For some reason, it just never works out that way. So I've seen quite a few guys come and go.
"Only a fabulous looking, sexy, flexible yoga teacher from my gym. Austin. Two years younger than me, from the city, seven inches. And yes, he was that good!"
I roll my eyes, but can't help laughing. While I am shy and don't like to talk too much about sex, Marc is completely opposite. The more he can do it and talk about it, the better.
"Hey, don't give me that look! What, you think I'm cheap?"
I throw a pair of socks on him and say: "Of course not. Nobody thinks you're cheap."
"You lie worse than anybody else I know,” Marc laughs and pours us some more wine.
Maybe I shouldn’t be drinking more. After all, I will be picked up by a driver at 5:30 in the morning. But hey, it’s my last night in Boston. It won’t be the first time I get by on just a few hours of sleep. Adrenaline will keep me going, I’m sure. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to get wasted. I just want to have a good time with my best friend before I leave for Tanzania.
“Honey, I’m hungry. Eat with me!”
Marc takes my arm and pulls me out of the bed. He on the other hand may already be a little tipsy. It’ll do us both good to eat something. We wander into the kitchen to scrounge for food. There’s nothing fancy in my fridge. There never is, and even less so now because I’ll be away for the next many months. So we take what is left: a few slices of toast, some peanut butter, and a cucumber. Funny how food tastes so much better after a bottle of wine.
“Mmmm this is delicious,” Marcs says and takes a bite of the cucumber. “It might even be better if you give me another glass of wine.”
I hand him the bottle of wine, and he pours us another glass.
“So will you call me if you miss me too much?” I must have had a little more to drink than I thought because I’m struggling to set the alarm on my phone. I don’t need a lot of time tomorrow – just enough to take a quick shower, apply some makeup, and pack my toothbrush. Everything else is ready. I end up setting three alarms, just to make sure that I wake up in time to get ready.
“Of course I will call you. And I already miss you, so prepare to get a lot of phone calls. I’ll call you every day. Except when I’m with Austin.”
Marc looks at me, dead serious. I cup his chin and give him a peck cheek. He’s adorable. I love him and hope that he will be happy with Austin. And if not with Austin, then with some other dude. As long as he’s happy.
Marc puts his arm around me and I curl up with him on my bed. No matter how chaotic my world is, I always feel safe with him. I close my eyes just for a second.
BRRRIIIIIINNNGGGGG! BRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNGGGGG!
Already before I open my eyes, I know it’s bad. Still half asleep, I figure it’s my phone alarm blaring, so I reach over to click it off. I scrub at my face and squint as I pry my eyes open. BRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG.
Not my alarm.
Slowly, but unavoidably, I realize that it is the insisting sound of my doorbell. Someone’s at the door. What the fuck? What time is it?
I push Marc off of me. He wakes with a grunt. I turn my head to check the time.
Oh my God. It’s 05:35 a.m. I bolt out of bed and stumble over Marc’s shoes next to my bed. I don’t know whether to rush to open the door or rush to the bathroom to pour some water on my face.
“I’m coming! Just a minute. Almost there!” I yell, now fully aware that it must be the driver from Durst Inc. at my door. Oh my God. How could I be so stupid? I must have fallen asleep and not heard my alarm go off. Bam! I stub my pinky on the dresser next to the bathroom sink. Ugh! Fuck!
“Emma. Tell me what to do.” Marc whispers through the door to the bathroom as I quickly brush my teeth.
“Pack the rest of my suitcase. Here’s my toothbrush.”
I rinse it off and hand it to him. I don’t know what else I need to put in there. Doesn’t matter. I’ll have to buy what I don’t bring.
“Ms. Brown. I’m waiting. We don’t have much time.” A man’s voice calls through the door. Dammit!
“So sorry. Just a minute and I’ll be there.”
My only option is to pretend to be ready, so there’s no time to apply fresh makeup. I run a brush through my hair, straighten my clothes and spray perfume around the neck. That’s it.
“Get me my jacket, please,” I say to Marc as he drags my suitcase from my bedroom to the hallway. He hands it to me, and I check the papers in my pocket one last time. Visa, passport, credit card. I have it all.
I look at Marc one last time.
“I guess that’s it, Marc,” I say and suddenly feel a little lost. I didn’t want to leave the city like this. I thought I was ready. Now all of sudden, I’m not even sure I want to go. Leaving my apartment suddenly feels like I’m taking a leap of faith into the unknown.