The Coat Check Girl by Laura Buchwald

Author:Laura Buchwald [Laura Buchwald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roan & Weatherford
Published: 2024-07-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Josie was in no mood to talk on the ride home, and Curtis—either because he wasn’t picking up her cues or was and wanted to distract her—filled the time with drunken babbling.

“Sam was on and on about his stuff again tonight, and I wanted to slap him. Some guy in there was a gaffer—a gaffer on commercials—and he cock-blocked me to grill him about the industry. Kid’s gotta lose his desperado ingenue act if he’s going to have a chance at this. I mean damn, took him long enough to get headshots.” He stopped abruptly and shot Josie a sideways glance. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” she asked wearily.

“Yikes. I don’t know. Headshots. I figured it’s a sore subject.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Josephine. Puhleeze. You look a fright.”

“Thank you.”

“And Derek treated us to a car home. I know it’s not because he felt bad that I was cockblocked.”

“Okay, fine. Patrick and I are done. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh my God, lady, what happened?” He swiveled on his seat and took her face in his hands. “You had such a good week! I’m going to weep!”

She wrestled out of his grip. “Yeah, honey, this is why I don’t want to talk about it! I’m exhausted. I love you, but I don’t need any more histrionics on top of my own. I’ll give you details some other time, but it wasn’t my doing. And for what it’s worth, which is absolutely nothing, this thing was only seven weeks from start to finish.”

“That’s almost two months!”

“Yes, I know.”

“He’s married,” Curtis said with a decisive nod.

“What the fuck? How do you know that?”

“’Cause I know he didn’t beat you, and that’s the other horrible thing straight guys do. Sure, it happens in my world, but it’s definitely more an angry straight guy thing.”

“Wow. Okay. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. Can I please have the night off from sharing?”

“Of course.” He held her hand the rest of the way home and sang a medley of songs about things getting better.

When they reached her place, she kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a mensch.”

“And you’re better off without Patrick Moore.”

Once inside, Josie forced herself to go to bed. Otherwise she knew she’d pace and overthink until even in her fatigue she’d be unable to rest. She flipped through the channels on mute and settled on Casablanca to fall asleep to. She actively shut her mind off as she’d done so many times before. She’d navigated all the messy bits of childhood—anger, sadness, fear—by repeating a mantra Nanette taught her. If I don’t think about it, it loses power. Tonight she created a new one. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.

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