Such a Fun Age(79)
In Emira’s ear Beverly said, “Alright, let’s chat about it . . . where could you meet us at?”
“Ummm . . .” Emira looked to Zara. “Where could I meet you at?”
Zara looked back down into her phone. “So if you go down to fourteen an hour,” she whispered, “it’s the same offer of 29K but with the addition of benefits.”
“Okay, could you guys do . . .” Emira knew that her words did not match the professionalism of the situation, but she pushed past her novice and embarrassment and threw out the number. “Fourteen an hour?”
“Emira, hang on,” Beverly said. Emira heard voices in the background before Beverly returned. “They’re telling me that we can do thirteen an hour if we throw in benefits. I know that’s rough, but if you stay on for six months, I’m sure I can get you more.”
From the way she said this, Emira could gather that Beverly genuinely wanted her for the job, and that she’d offer more if she could. Emira’s professionalism had dropped into necessity, and it was a strange relief to see that Beverly’s had too. Emira covered the phone and said, “They can only do thirteen.”
Zara twisted her lips. “Does that include dental?”
Emira winced. “That doesn’t include dental, does it?” She listened to Beverly verify that it didn’t, and shook her head at Zara. “How much is that?” Emira whispered.
Zara flipped the phone around and showed her the number $27,040: a few hundred dollars less than she was making now. Zara nodded and said, “Tell her yes.” Emira hesitated and Zara reached out her hand. “Mira? It’s just for now,” she said. “This is a real-ass job. You want this on your résumé.” Zara pointed to the phone at Emira’s ear. “You don’t want this.” She pointed to the door behind her and shook her head. There was a fierce desperation in Zara’s eyes, and it told Emira that her friend was worried for her, and that she had been for some time.
Just then, Mrs. Chamberlain knocked and said, “Hello?”
Into her phone, Emira said, “I’ll take it.”
As Zara zipped up Emira’s backpack, Emira bent down onto her knees next to the toilet and cupped her hand around the mouthpiece (“Okay, thank you so much, Beverly . . . okay, thank you!”). The second she clicked Off and stood up straight, Zara opened the door and shielded herself behind it.
“You guys okay?” Mrs. Chamberlain peeked in the bathroom. “Oh, Emira. You look so pretty. We gotta hustle downstairs because they’re about ready. You okay?”
Emira took a breath and said, “I’m great.”
Laney appeared next to Mrs. Chamberlain, clapped in the space below her chin, and sang, “Places!”
Laney turned to go back downstairs, and when she did, Mrs. Chamberlain looked at Emira with a wide-eyed expression that said, God, she’s a lot, am I right? The quickness of it was so sharp and pointed, and the ease of it revealed years of practice. Emira swallowed as Mrs. Chamberlain playfully rolled her eyes before she followed Laney downstairs.
Zara slowly pushed the bathroom door closed once again to reveal a face of urgency. “If we gonna go? We gotta go right now.”
But Mrs. Chamberlain’s bite-sized dig at Laney set off something in Emira’s blood and joints, and as she looked back into the mirror, Emira said, “No.” She twisted her head from side to side to make sure her foundation blended properly across the arc of her jawline. She threw her hair behind her shoulders and checked the whiteness of her teeth. “I’m still gonna do it.”
“Say what?!”
“Listen to me.” Emira turned to her. “I’m doin’ this thing, okay? But as soon as I give you a look, I want you to make a scene.”
Zara shook her head in reluctance, obligation, and stoic confirmation. “Mira, don’t play with me ’cause you know I’ll start some shit.”
“Do it. I’m serious,” Emira promised. In the mirror she reached into the neck of her dress to hoist and center her breasts. “Just stay with me and when I tell you, I need you to start wildin’ out. But girl, wait . . . ohmygod? I have benefits now?” Emira broke a smile. As Zara and Emira quietly jumped up and down, Emira suddenly realized that there would be a day, probably quite soon, when Briar would no longer remember her.
Twenty-five
That morning, Laney had been the first to arrive at the Chamberlain house. She was also the first person Alix directed her question to: “Did I do the right thing?”
With a face full of makeup at seven a.m., Laney took both of Alix’s hands. “Honey,” she said. “Listen to me. When I was a junior in high school, a soccer coach of mine got a bit too close to our center fielder, and performed in our locker room what I now know as second base. I knew it was wrong. Everyone on my team knew it was wrong. But this girl, Mona . . . Monica? Monica. Well, she said to keep quiet. And at the time, none of us knew what to do, so we didn’t do anything. But I bet you that if Monica were here right now, she would wish that we had. Do you know what I’m sayin’, Alix?”
Alix pressed her lips together and nodded. She tried to release her fingers from Laney’s as she said, “Yeah. Totally.”
Alix would wait to receive a better confirmation from Tamra. In the meantime, she tried to be thankful for Laney’s discreet savvyness. Three days prior, Laney had quickly and successfully delivered the grocery store video into the wrong hands, and then swooped back in to land the first interview. “Everybody wins with this,” Laney promised her. “Emira gets to clear her name. Peter’s little mix-up will be smoothed over. And you’ll get to come back into the spotlight a bit. And don’t worry, I know exactly how to plug your book without plugging your book. You know what I mean.”