“I was also thinking this could be a phenomenal opportunity to partner with the roof garden girl,” I said, angling for the last slice of Sam’s resistance. I didn’t know Magnolia Santillian, but Sam hadn’t stopped raving about her work since the spring. For reasons I had yet to comprehend, Patrick hated roof gardens and shut down every one of Sam’s attempts at weaving them into his designs. “If there’s ever been a property that needs a roof garden, it’s this one.”
He reached for the tablet again. He wouldn’t believe it until checking out the roof himself. After all, I was just the lawyer. I didn’t know anything about architecture or preservation or design. “What’s the timeline with all this?” he asked.
“They’d like to know as soon as possible. They close on the property in forty-five days or so, and want to start construction immediately. I promised them we’d follow up by Friday.”
“I’ll call Magnolia and find out whether she has any flexibility in her schedule,” he said. “I need Riley freed up in the next couple of weeks, and I want the blueprints pulled from City Hall by noon tomorrow. Get your errand boy, Tom, on that one.”
Miracles worked, mountains moved.
“Yes! I knew you’d be all over this. There’s just one more thing.” He groaned and flopped back in his chair as I held out my hands. “Actually, two things. One: why can’t we just call her Roof Garden Girl? I really prefer that to Magnolia. I mean, please. Who names a child Magnolia? It requires her to be a landscape architect, or own a flower shop. And two: there’s a strict non-disclosure agreement attached to this client. You can’t go tweeting about working on Eddie Turlan’s house.”
“I don’t tweet, and you’ll need to talk to Magnolia about that. I don’t think we know her well enough to give her a nickname yet.”
“But you’d like to know her a little better, right?” I asked, lifting my shoulders. “You’d like to get on a nickname basis.”
“You’re reading into this rather far, Shannon.”
I didn’t know much about Magnolia beyond the stray details Sam shared, but I couldn’t help wondering whether he needed someone as creative and strange as him. Anyone who designed roof gardens for a living had to fit the bill.
I paused at the door, and glanced back at him. “I really do want you to be happy, Sam. We all know the past year has been difficult for you, but we can’t help if you don’t let us.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m trying.”
With a nod, I returned to my office. I had nineteen urgent items on my list, and it didn’t matter how tired or sore I was, I wasn’t leaving until I had this place under control.
That was the price of disappearing, and I’d pay it again.
WILL
Fifteen months ago
Will:
Chicago. Second Friday in November.
Shannon:
That’s where you’ll be masturbating to Katy Perry videos and crying into your Muscle Milk?
Will:
Putting up with your shit requires conditioning. I should be hitting the weights harder just to prepare myself for you
Shannon:
Mmm. Best wishes.
Shannon:
Oh and when did you put your number in my phone?
Will:
While you were in the shower with your little helper
Shannon:
Can we stop talking about the shower yet?
Will:
That was a religious experience for me. It was better than surfing at sunrise.
Shannon:
I don’t know what to do with that information
Will:
While you contemplate it, go lock your doors
Shannon:
I live in a very secure building, and before you remind me that you got in, I’ll remind you that you’re not the average criminal
Will:
Lock your fucking doors or I’m sending one of my guys to do it for you
*
Will:
Hey. What’s instagram
Shannon:
Is that a serious question?
Will:
No, I’m just testing you to see if you can summarize things on demand. It’s on my checklist, right after “Uses shower heads but gets very dirty”
Will:
Of course it’s a serious question! Answer me.
Shannon:
You are a douche waffle.
Will:
I thought we agreed on lawyer-fucking meathead…
Shannon:
Bad things happen when you bring up the showerhead…
Will:
I’m authentically curious about this instagram thing. My mother keeps sending me emails about her travel blog having a “super huge IG following” – direct Judy quote, btw – and telling me to get on it
Shannon:
It’s a photo sharing app. Selfies, pets, kids, food, landscapes.
Shannon:
What’s the story with the blog? Matt’s always sharing it on Facebook
Will:
Sigh.
Will:
When my parents retired, they decided to travel. National parks and all that shit. No surprise to anyone, my mother was bored off her ass within 15 minutes.
Will:
She was a navy medic, served in Kuwait, nurse on base until a few years ago. You get the picture. Always busy.
Will:
She figures we all need to share in these travels, and starts taking an actual fuck ton of pictures. Lo introduces her to a blogging site. Instead of emailing the fuck ton, she’s posting it.
Will:
Joke’s on us because people like this shit. She’s got paid advertisements and product placement now, and a “super huge IG following” but she guilts the fuck out of us if we don’t read and tell her how great it is, and believe me, it’s actually really fucking awesome and I’m happy for her
Will:
But holy fuck, who can keep up with all those posts?
Shannon:
Do you even have any social media accounts?
Will:
No. that shit’s terrible for opsec
Shannon:
For what?
Will:
Operational security. It’s not smart to publicize where I am or what I’m doing.
Shannon:
Right. ok.
*
Shannon:
So I read the blog. Entire hours of my day—gone.
Shannon:
Your mom is adorable. I knew she was when I met her at the wedding, but she is too fucking adorable for life.
Shannon:
She has all these sassy things to say and there are all these little inside jokes. And her photos are amazing
Shannon:
I love how she refers to your dad as the Commodore
Will:
That’s no term of endearment. That’s what he wants to be called.
Will:
Like that episode of Seinfeld, with The Maestro
Shannon:
Even better!
Will:
Did you notice Sailor 1 and Sailor 2? We don’t come up much
Shannon:
And why would you? It’s not like you read the blog
Will:
Watch it, peanut.
Shannon:
It’s just so adorable! She refers to Matt and Lauren as Mr. and Mrs. Honey. Too much cuteness.
Will:
Yeah she’s pretty great
Will:
She’d like you.
Shannon:
Yeah?
Will:
Totally. She loves stone cold bitches with hearts of gold.
*
Shannon:
Invade any sovereign nations today?
Will:
Why are you awake right now? It’s the middle of the night
Shannon:
It bears noting that you are also awake.
Will:
No. I can respond to texts while I sleep.
Will:
Commando tactic.
Shannon:
Hilarious
Will:
Seriously. Why are you up?
Shannon:
Had a lot of coffee today.
Will:
Yeah?
Shannon:
The pumpkin spice latte has returned for fall. I’m a fan.
Will:
And now you could run to Ohio and back?
Shannon:
Pretty much
Shannon:
I’ve been thinking about going jogging.
Will:
Please don’t
Shannon:
Is this where you get all patronizing and tell me that girls should stick with their pilates and zumba? Don’t trouble yourself with that. I run every morning, to and from spin or barre class. I’ve finished the last six Boston Marathons. I don’t need any advice from a penis, thanks.
Will:
It’s 2:21 a.m. I get that you’re tough as fuck but I wouldn’t even jog at 2:21 a.m.
Will:
And if my penis is giving advice, it’s saying “come to North Carolina and put your mouth on me”
Shannon:
How is it any different from jogging to the gym at 4:30?
Will:
Common sense?
Will:
Sunlight?
Will:
How about the fact most psychopaths decide to pack it in by then? And the feral animal quotient goes down too.
Shannon:
Pfft. I can handle that shit.
Will:
Yes, Shannon. I’m certain that stray dogs and fisher cats make it their job to stay the fuck away from you.
Shannon:
Oh yeah. It’s a redhead thing.
Will:
Ok so you run marathons and drink too much coffee. Tell me something else about you.
Will:
Since you’re awake
Shannon:
Quid pro quo, commando.
Will:
You know, pulling out the Latin at this hour is kind of like using trigonometry during beer pong. Don’t be that guy.
Shannon:
Yeah. Being chased by a fisher cat would be soooo much more entertaining than this
Will:
I’ve never seen Titanic. Not a fan of romanticized shipwreck.
Shannon:
Do I need to define quid pro quo for you? Or are you just giving me lame shit to work with?
Will:
You need to calm down.
Shannon:
Has no one told you that telling a woman to calm down is like trying to baptize a cat?