Page 26 of Two-Step
She sighs with such audible annoyance, a reflexive apology rises in my throat. “At least he has insurance,” she drones.
“Oh?” That’s good. “How do you know?”
Shetsks. “Well, I wouldn’t work with someone who wasn’t insured, now would I? What do you take me for, an amateur?”
“I—No, of course not.”
“I mean, my goodness, what ifhe’dhurtyouinstead of the other way around? Then where would we be?”
“Well—”
“Of course, knowing you, I should probably stack a few policies for liability,” she says sourly. “I hope he’s as simple as he seems, or he could sue the pants off us.”
“He’s not going to sue us, Moira,” I say, my voice dropping. I steel my courage. “But if he has insurance, I’d at least like to cover his co-pay.”
“And let him think we’re made of money?” Her voice approaches screech levels. I wince. Screeching Moira is the stuff of nightmares. “Once he gets a whiff of that, he’ll sniff around for more.”
I’m thankful she can’t see my massive eye roll. A gold-digger is the last thing Mr. Hebert is.
“I think it’s the right thing to do,” I say. “It was my fault, after all.”
She snorts. “Well, there’s no proof of that. Besides, he’s old, Maybe he just fell.” I can hear her smiling, dreaming up this new alternate reality. It makes me a little nauseated. Then the humor leaves her voice. “Wait. There really is no proof, right?”
“Huh?”
Shetsksagain, impatient. “I mean Ramon wasn’t filming your or anything, right? Or your little friend?”
“You mean my best friend Sally Bristol, whom you’ve known for thirteen years?”
“Don’t be cute, Iris,” she warns. “Did either of them film it?”
Of course they weren’t filming it. They’re my best friends. My best friends also would not film me doing something equally humiliating like getting a colonoscopy or browsing through Tinder.
I’m tempted to leave her twisting in the wind for a little while.Gee, I don’t know, Moira. I’ll ask them.But who knows what she’d do with that.
“No, Moira, they weren’t filming anything.”
“Well, thank God for that at least.”
Her tone has me gritting my teeth. I breathe in. I breathe out. “Would it be so bad if they were? I mean, they’re my best friends. And even if they weren’t, they signed NDAs.”
“P-lease, don’t be so naive. Do you know what they could sell a video like that for?” she asks, snidely. “Enough to buy new friends.”
Even though I know Sally and Ramon would never do that, it stings that she’d even say it.
“Moira, they wouldn’t hurt me like that.” I wish I could say that without sounding like I’m nine years old.
She laughs. She actually laughs. “Honey, you’re old enough to know that everyone has a price.” She chuckles in a way that I can bet she’s shaking her head at me. “I’m sorry to have to break it to you, Iris, but there’s nothing special about you that would make people overcome human nature.”
This gut punch lands right where I expect it, but it’s the next one I don’t see coming.
“I mean, if there were, your father never would have left.”
My knees almost give.
In a daze, I reach out for the hard surface of the hospital wall and lean back against it. Memories of my dad pour in like a deluge through a collapsed roof. I’m staring at my sandals, but I’m seeing him. Grinning at me. Shrugging. Tucking his long, brown hair behind his ears. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The faded denim always hung loose on his hips. He would stoop when he walked. Like he was ducking his head. His posture would make his glasses slip down his nose.
And that used to make Moira so mad.
