“Cute dress.” Is Abby a mentalist? “I’ll get right to the point,” she says, taking a seat in a folding chair on the opposite side of the table. “I hope this isn’t overstepping, but does the name ‘WinProv’ mean anything to you?”
“WinProv? Is it a startup?” Ari sips the coffee. “Or some kind of online platform?”
“Management consulting. They provide improv workshops for corporations. It’s incredibly lucrative. I met the CEO last week—Brad’s a lovely guy. Really sharp.” Abby tilts her head forward. “He wants to talk to you about a job.”
“Me?”
“Absolutely. He’s hiring comedians. Give him a call sometime this week. He’s expecting to hear from you.” Abby slides her phone across the table to show her the WinProv website, featuring a man and a woman clad in matching blue button-down shirts, mugging for an audience of insurance salespeople. “His business is booming. Look at that client list.”
“Oh. Wow…” Ari scrolls down to the cloud of recognizable logos at the bottom of the website. Big pharma, Silicon Valley, predatory lending.
“He books these workshops all over the country. I think he’s even opening a new office. There’s a ton of opportunity right now.”
Mon, Jan 16, 9:11 a.m.
Gabe: You coming tonight?
I need you. The show’s a bringer.
$23 at the door + 2 drink min
Ari may have evaded Josh’s attempt at the awkward morning-after breakfast but somehow being doted on by his mother feels worse. It’s probably just paranoia, but Abby’s expression is a little smug. Knowing. Maybe even…delighted.
Ari’s phone chimes again.
Mon, Jan 16, 9:13 a.m.
Radhya: it’s been 3 hrs
When were you planning on telling me about last night?
Ari’s stomach drops. First Briar, now Radhya?
“Abby, this is so kind of you but you barely know me.”
“Nonsense.” Abby waves her hand. “I’m helping his cousin buy a co-op in Murray Hill. He owes me a favor.”
Some rogue emotion makes Ari’s throat constrict. A sudden pang of missing Cass. The mix of caring and concern. Aggravating and gratifying. Being mothered.
Abby opens an expensive-looking handbag, removing a tube of lipstick and a compact. “Ari, when someone offers you a boost, take it. I mentor the young women in my office.” She applies a fresh coat of color to her lips. “Encourage them to seize every opportunity, the same way a man would.” Abby snaps the compact shut and leans forward. “Where do you see yourself in the long run? What’s your five-year plan?”
Ari buys time with a long sip of coffee. I plan to be financially stable enough that I don’t need to beg grooms to let me write their wedding vows probably isn’t the best answer. I’ve been trying to ‘do comedy’ for my entire adult life and I have nothing to show for it because I never ‘made it’ and I spend the vast majority of my time as a waiter or a dog walker or a nanny isn’t great, either.
9:15 a.m.
Radhya: call me
And then call him
I can’t take any more of his spiraling texts
Ari silences her phone and turns it facedown on the tabletop. “I’ve been dealing with a…divorce.” She says that word carefully. “I’m just trying to do a five-day plan here.”
It’s more than she’d normally share with a near-stranger, but her emotional reserves must be reaching capacity and starting to leak.
To her credit, Abby appears unfazed.
“Following your passion is so important. I learned that lesson far too late. When I sold my first property, I had a teenage son who resented me, a precocious kindergartner, and a husband who had been doing things the same way for twenty years. Everyone needed something from me. But I couldn’t live a life where my only purpose was to make theirs more manageable. You can’t just wait around, letting things happen to you.” Abby clicks her nails against the tabletop. “A divorce is the perfect time to rebuild your career.” She pauses. “And relationships.”
Oh no. Abby looks at her with a shameless grin.
“I think you have the wrong idea about—”
Abby’s hands shoot up in surrender. “You don’t have to explain.”
Then she winks. Oh God.
Ari reaches for her water and Abby surprises her by closing her warm palm over the back of her hand.
“Give Brad a call. It might be exactly what you need. It’s improv, right? There’s travel. And it pays well. If you’re not moving forward, you’re moving backward. I think they only pass around that memo to men.” Abby gives her hand a little pat and settles back into her seat. “And I want you to know, I’m not offering just because you’re sleeping with my son.”