Good Time(57)

“The thing is, Carol wasn’t exactly my life coach.”

“Elaborate.”

“I was just sorta life coach-sampling.” I pick at a non-existent piece of lint on my knee and avoid looking at Canon. When I can’t take the silence anymore I risk a glance in his direction.

“Tell me everything. I need a full visual picture.”

“Uggh, you’re so annoying.”

“Spill or I don’t help.”

I begrudgingly explain the entirety of fate providing me with a couple of sample life coaching sessions while Canon interrupts to ask questions. When I’m done and when he’s finished laughing, he tells me I have potential in surveillance if I ever want to make a career change to the security field. Which is nice. I’m adding surveillance skills to my list of strengths because really, it’s not a bad skill to have and it’s good to know I have diversification abilities.

“So you want to find Carol because you’re in search of life advice you can’t gain from eavesdropping?”

“Sampling. I was sampling.”

“Right. Sampling.”

“But I’m ready to upgrade to a real appointment because I need her to help me identify my strengths. Like a comprehensive list, not just an overview.”

“Why is that exactly?”

“So I can present it to Vince.”

“Sure. Is this some kind of fetish thing? Some kind of kinky roleplaying involving paperwork and spanking? Actually, don’t answer that. It’s more information than I want to know.”

“Can you find Carol or not?”

“You want me to find a life coach named Carol, no last name, no phone number, email or office address?”

“I was hoping you could.”

“Of course I can, Jesus.” Canon rolls his eyes and taps at his keyboard while muttering about people misusing his skill set. “Tell me what kinds of things were talked about during the sessions.”

“The usual. Career goals, decision-making skills, the usual.”

“I have hits on two life coaches in Las Vegas named Carol.” Canon tilts his monitor so I can see the images he’s pulled up. Neither are my life coach. After a series of false tries, finally Canon turns the monitor and it’s her. It’s Carol!

“That’s her!” I bounce in my seat in excitement. “Can you find a phone number or email?”

“Carol is not a life coach, Payton,” Canon responds as he turns the monitor back.

“Yes, she is! She’s really good!”

“What other kinds of things were talked about at these supposed life coaching sessions?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t catch everything. Sampling is more of an overview appointment.”

“Stuff like sales goals? Performance rewards? Commissions?”

“Maybe? I kinda tuned that stuff out because I was mainly interested in the personal growth. I think Meghan was saving to buy a timeshare though. I don’t know.”

“Carol sells essential oils, Payton. She’s not a life coach. She’s an essential oil team leader. Meghan is one of her commissioned sales reps.”

What?

Canon flips the screen around again and there’s Carol. Apparently I can get an appointment with her if I’m willing to buy a hundred-and-sixty-dollar starter kit.

“Carol isn’t a life coach?”

“No.”

“I almost joined a cult?”

“I think ‘cult’ might be a real big leap. You might have been headed towards obtaining a diffuser and a second job, but I think that’s the extent of it.”

“Huh.” I slump in the chair because I can’t believe how crazy I am. “I’m such an idiot.”

“I think you’re actually quite clever.”

I groan and drop my head back to stare at the ceiling in Canon’s office. This is fine, I don’t need Carol. I was just having a crisis of confidence, which is ridiculous because I’ve totally got this.

“You’re Vince’s best friend, right?”

“We haven’t made it Facebook official yet”—Canon shrugs—“but it’s looking good.”

“The thing is, Canon, is that I legiterally love him.”

“As one does, loveable bastard that Vince is. Oh, that reminds me, I’ve got something for you.” He slides open a desk drawer and pulls something out, smiling as he glances at it before he sliding it across the desktop to me. It’s an employee ID. My employee ID, but with my new last name, Rossi. Payton Rossi.

“I don’t need this.” I sigh as I’m hit with a wave of emotions. This is the first time I’ve seen my married name on anything. Minus the eighty-seven times that I practice-wrote it during meetings this week, but that wasn’t printed on something official like an employment ID card. I exhale into a big slump in the chair. “Vince is dumping me.”

“I doubt that’s true.” Canon seems really unmoved about my impending break-up. I’d have thought he’d care more since he was the maid of honor at our wedding, but no. He’s swiveling in his chair, acting as if we’re discussing the cafeteria meatloaf.

“It’s true! Well, partially true. I think he likes me.” I pause as I say that because it needs a rephrase. “I know he likes me. He’s done nothing but show me how much he likes me, until today. Today has been iffy but he sounded stressed and maybe he’s not a phone person. Is he? Do you guys talk on the phone?”