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Keeley can hear laughter even before she’s unlocked the front door of Ted’s flat. She lets herself in and follows the sound to the living room, where she finds Rebecca and Roy and Ted tangled together on the couch. On a less shit day, she’d find the sight that greets her delightful. There are open beer bottles scattered on the coffee table. Afternoon is fading into evening, and the room is a bit dim because the sun is starting to set but nobody’s turned a lamp on yet. Roy is leaned back against Ted’s chest, eyes closed in laughter, his t-shirt all rucked up around his middle because Ted’s got his arms around him. Ted isn’t tickling him (Roy hates—genuinely despises—being tickled), but he’s playing with him like he’s got all the time in the world and not a single care. Rebecca is sprawled against the other side of the couch, sunken almost comically deeply into the pillows. Ted’s legs are in her lap, and she grips one of his ankles in her slender hand, and she’s staring at the boys like—it’s just Keeley’s mind playing tricks on her, but it stings—like they’re everything she needs in the whole world.
On a happier day, she’d say hello by diving right in. She’d land in Roy’s lap and bury herself in the pillows right next to Rebecca and loudly demand kisses from everyone, exuding confidence that (whether or not she actually believes it) there isn’t anything the others would possibly rather do than kiss her right that instant. But right now, all she can do is stand frozen before them. The thought of catching up to them—getting to the right amount of drunk, shaking off everything that’s happened today and figuring out how to be light and sexy and fun—seems entirely insurmountable.
Ted registers her presence first; it’s his flat, he can feel that someone else is there. He freezes, and so do the others, and then the three of them burst into half-guilty laughter.
“We got started a little early,” Rebecca says.
“We didn’t mean to,” says Ted.
“Yes we did, we fucking won,” says Roy.
“I know,” Keeley says. She hasn’t missed a home match in years, not since well before she worked for AFC Richmond, but today she had to rely on a push notification—followed by a flurry of activity on the group text half an hour later—to learn the final score. She was supposed to be there today, but she had a Monday deadline for a proof of concept for a prospective new client that—if they’d accepted—would’ve been an absolute gamechanger for the firm. Working the whole Saturday felt like the only option.
Roy frowns. “Hey. What’s the matter? Tired from work?”
Keeley shakes her head quickly. Rejecting the question. Rejecting the tears that threaten the corners of her eyes. She hasn’t even put down her purse. She’s acting like an utter alien, or like a disapproving older sister who caught the younger siblings sneaking booze.
Roy sits up straight, disentangling himself from the others.
“Babe,” Rebecca says softly. She sits up too. “Tell us.”
“They went with someone else,” Keeley says softly.
“But you had until Monday!” Roy splutters. “How the fuck did they go with someone else if they didn’t even know what they’d get with you?”
Keeley tries to smile. “That bloke Harold rang me an hour ago and broke the news. I’m ninety-eight percent sure they went with Weston & Murphy.” She sighs. “Anyway, rest of my weekend’s free, so we can head down to the pub and celebrate the match just as soon as you bozos find your shoes.” She really leans into that smile. “All good.” She laughs. “I mean, I’m not even late getting over here, you three were just early—”
“Hey,” Ted says. He’s been quiet. “Keels, what do you wanna do tonight?”
“We had plans—”
“Well, screw the dang plans.” Ted glances at Roy, then at Rebecca. “You just got bad news, and I think that entitles you to just about anything you want.”
Suddenly, the couch seems plenty big. Keeley sets her bag down and lets her red coat slide from her shoulders and hit the floor, where it slumps into a pile like a faux-fur puppet in a fainting spell. She sits down between Roy and Rebecca with a heavy sigh, and when she stretches her arm across Roy’s lap, Ted finds her hand immediately.
“Maybe we could just stay in tonight.” Keeley cringes. “Only if it’s really all right with all of you.” She doesn’t know why she feels so guilty about keeping everyone from the pub they go to constantly. She goes through her entire existence with these people, has shared painful stories with these people, has fought for the life she wants with these people. But plans are plans, and Richmond won, and she wasn’t there because she chose a career path that has taken her away.
“Of course it’s all right,” says Rebecca.
“Right then,” says Roy. He stands, patting Keeley’s knee on the way up, and walks to the kitchen where he opens a bottle of wine and brings a glass back to her.
“Cheers,” Keeley says, taking the glass. “We can still celebrate the win. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. It’s tradition, and I fucked it up.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Rebecca says. She puts her arm around Keeley’s shoulders and kisses the top of her head. “And who knows, when Harold realizes there’s no Keeley Jones at Weston & Murphy, he might come crawling back.”
“Yeah,” Ted says. “Might take a year or two, but a PR firm without Keeley Jones…that’s just bad for business, ultimately.”
“Stop,” Keeley says. This time, a genuine smile is the thing she’s got to try and fail to hide.
“Drink your wine,” Ted says. “We’ll make dinner.”
Keeley does as she’s told. She sits on the couch alone but not alone. Alone in that she’s the only one sitting on that particular piece of furniture. Not alone because the entire flat is like a hug, like good energy, like a night in with her favorite humans on the planet. She kicks off her shoes and puts her feet up. She thinks about the deal she’s lost—thinks about it so hard that it stops hurting so much. She thinks of the clients she’s signed, and the future clients she’s got her eyes on. She listens to the sounds from the kitchen—Rebecca’s laughter at something Ted says. Roy chopping garlic with an intensity that makes her wonder if he’s enacting vengeance on her behalf. Before long, she can smell roast chicken and potatoes in the oven. Rebecca comes over periodically to top off her wine, kissing her sweetly each time, and as Keeley drinks it’s not catching up but joining in.