20 Million Tiny Particles

18. Business, II

The first decision was going to the conference. The rest of the decisions were based on getting there.

I invited Sheridan over to the shop early the next week, when she had a break between body pump and spin classes. She'd picked up extra hours at the Y, she told me, to save up for more product. She had a good feeling that we could move it quickly with our newest gym-bait strategy; plus, she had to keep up supply for the newest customers we were still in the process of converting toward membership.

Ms. Lavonne was at the store today too, so I left her at the cash register while I took Sheridan to the faux living room at the back. No one had been in yet this morning, which was pretty typical, so I'd planned to spend most of the day playing on my phone and reading a book anyway.

Sheridan curled her feet under her on the antique couch, brushing her hair behind her shoulder and cracking her neck on both sides. She asked if I had fun at the party.

I nodded. "Of course."

I hadn't told her yet about the Missy encounter. Once I'd returned from the bathroom, I found Sheridan fluttering throughout the room on sales calls: finding girls who were new to the room and engaging them until they wanted a taste of whatever she was sipping.

Thankfully -- though it wasn't saying much -- Sheridan stopped drinking sometime after Missy's speech. Instead, I saw her sneaking a tube of energy gel from a display basket set up as decor. While perusing the items, she picked it up to examine the packaging before slipping it into her jeans pocket, then off to the bathroom to enjoy it herself. That was one way to sober up.

I told myself I would stay at the party until she left. It was the least I could do for my own conscience's sake. When she was ready to go, I offered to drive her, but she didn't want to leave her car. "I'm totally fine," she promised. I told her to text me when she got home, and she fulfilled the request with a party hat smiley face emoji twenty minutes later.

On the couch now, she was the one to bring up Missy first.

"Her parties are usually fun because everyone's there. I mean, she knows everyone and she recruited half of them." Them. I wondered if she intentionally didn't say "us." "But, then again, all of her friends are extremely stuffy, so they kind of make it their mission to make every party more boring than the last." Sheridan wiped at her nose, looking around with a sour expression. "Do you have a cat?"

I nodded. "Yeah, somewhere. Are you allergic?"

"Mhm." She sniffed again. "Can you put it somewhere else?"

Strangely, in eighteen years of having friends and customers all throughout the store, I'd never encountered an allergy. I looked to see if Mayo was under our feet but as usual, she was out and about, sneaking through the place on her own schedule.

I told Sheridan if I saw her I'd scoop her up and put her upstairs, but I didn't know where she was.

She wiped her nose again. "It's fine. I'll take a Benadryl when I get home. I need to sleep anyway." Clearing her throat, she redirected, "So, what's new with you?"

I took a breath. I wanted to be careful with my phrasing and framing. If I came off too emotional -- angry or afraid, or any of that -- Sheridan would pick it up and it would only escalate the situation. I needed to be cautious, to let her know that I wasn't afraid of Missy. That this was no big deal.

Most importantly, I wanted to keep some cards close to my chest. I did not want Sheridan to know that I knew about her debt. Something told me that if Sheridan wanted that to be public knowledge, she would've shared it already. That's how she was; she was free-wheeling, carefree, open. But not with this -- there was a reason for that.