‘Wait,’ I said, clutching my non-existent pearls as Jenny took her seat and immediately started fannying about with the fishing pole resting next to her chair. ‘Where are the toilets?’
‘Our lounge is through the forest and over the bridge,’ the waitress replied, waving a graceful arm over yonder. ‘It is gender neutral and paperless. Tonight we will start with our signature cocktail and feel free to begin fishing at your leisure. Please let me know if you require assistance on your journey.’
With a soft smile and a gentle nod, she disappeared back into the trees.
‘This place is so very you,’ I told Jenny, allowing her to believe it was a compliment. The restaurant, like my friend, was the very definition of the word ‘extra’. ‘What happens if I don’t catch a fish? What happens if I do catch a fish? And what does she mean by a paperless toilet?’
‘Half of me never wants to know and half of me so does. There’s no menu, by the way. Everything other than the fish you catch is omakase, chef’s specials, OK?’
‘Not really but sure,’ I replied, trying not to stare into the water. There. Was. An. Actual. Fish. ‘So, I haven’t seen you in a million years. What’s going on with you?’
There was a time when I knew absolutely every thought that went through Jenny’s head. Back when we lived together and spent all our nights watching America’s Next Top Model and mainlining Ben & Jerry’s, there wasn’t a single second of a single day when I didn’t know where she was, why she was there and what or who she was doing. Even when I’d moved in with Alex, we’d still managed to see each other all the time but, ever since Alice had come along, the amount of time I had to hang out with my friends, even my best, best friend, had been obliterated.
‘Everything. Everything is going on,’ she said, grabbing her napkin and flicking it out onto her lap. I did the same, knocked a pair of chopsticks off my plate and watched them roll onto the floor, down the bank and into the river. The evening was off to an excellent start. ‘I’ve finally figured it out. I know how I’m gonna become the next Oprah.’
Jenny had been plotting to dethrone Ms Winfrey ever since we met. There was not a single woman on this earth who owned as many self-help books, went to as many workshops or generally went around giving out unsolicited advice. Not that I was complaining about her fabulous fairy godmother routine, it always worked out a treat for me. Well, almost always.
‘Tell me everything.’
Jenny’s beautiful face lit up with an excitement usually reserved for sample sales, Tom Hardy and other people’s dogs.
‘I’m starting a podcast!’ she said, throwing her arms in the air, narrowly missing what looked awfully like Alec Baldwin’s face by roughly three millimeters. ‘Isn’t it the greatest idea you’ve ever heard?’
‘Oh my god, it is!’ I gasped as she did a happy dance in her seat, inching ever closer to the edge of the water. I utched my own chair a few inches back towards safety. ‘You’re a genius.’
‘So, I was running a few days ago and listening to a podcast and I was, like, dude, I should have a podcast! And now I’m officially a media mogul.’
‘To be honest, I expected a more dramatic story,’ I admitted, one eye on the fish that was having a good poke around at my submerged chopsticks. ‘Does it have a name?’
Jenny tapped her fingers against the table in a mini drumroll.
‘It’s called … “Tell Me About It with Jenny Lopez”,’ she announced. ‘I’m going to interview interesting people and get them to, you know, tell me about stuff. I already asked a bunch of people. It’s going to be amazing.’
‘I am so excited for you,’ I said, meaning it completely. This was so entirely perfect for her, I couldn’t believe we hadn’t thought of it sooner. A microphone, a platform and a completely captive audience? She’d be president within a decade.
‘I still have a few things to figure out.’ She smiled at the waitress as she returned with two tall glasses of clear liquid that did not look even slightly like proper food. ‘Like a studio and an editor and all the marketing, social media and graphic design. But other than that, I’m good to go.’
‘Other than that,’ I said, ignoring the tiny warning bells that had started ringing.
‘And I don’t know if you would know this but do you have any idea how you actually get a podcast online?’ she asked, not a trace of irony on her face. ‘Do I just send it to the podcast people and they do it all?’
Ring-ding-ding-ding-ding.
‘Podcast people?’
‘Ladies, this is a Chu-Hai Spritz,’ the waitress said, setting the glasses down on the table. A fat lychee bobbed around in the top of each cocktail. ‘Your first tastes will be out soon.’
I really hoped my first taste would be a full pizza.
‘So, you’re starting a podcast but you don’t know how to record a podcast, market a podcast or share a podcast?’ I asked.
Jenny shook her head and pushed her drink away.
‘Is that lychee in there? I hate lychees. Oh, and I’m taking over EWPR while Erin and Thomas are in London. I guess I’m going to be really busy over the next few months.’
I grabbed my cocktail and took a deep, much-needed drink. ‘I didn’t know Erin and Thomas were planning a trip to London. How long are they off for?’
Jenny’s eyes widened for a second.
‘She hasn’t told you?’ she said, her voice lifted by surprise. ‘They’re moving. Thomas got transferred, they’re leaving right after July Fourth.’
Erin wasn’t just Jenny’s boss at Erin White Public Relations, she was also one of our best friends. This was a lot to process on an empty stomach. I glanced off into the forest to see where our waitress was hiding. Just how much trouble would we get into if I broke out the emergency mini Twix I was hiding in my handbag?
‘It’s supposedly only for a year,’ Jenny added. ‘But she wants me to take over completely while they’re away. Acting president.’
And to think I’d guessed it would take her another decade to earn that title.
‘I’m gutted Erin is leaving but, Jen, that’s amazing,’ I said as she looked away, the big smile that had been on her face only a moment ago fading. ‘Isn’t it?’
Jenny ran her fingers through her curls and attempted to tuck her hair behind her ears as she took a deep breath in. It stayed in place for approximately three seconds before springing free as she breathed out, doubling in size as the curls bounced around her gorgeous face.
‘I’ll kill it, I know I will,’ she said, more to herself than to me. ‘But there’s so much going on and, I don’t know. I never even really wanted this job, you know? I fell into it by accident and now I’m running the show? There’s so much I wanted to do this year, there’s the podcast, we just moved into a new place and, I don’t know. Other stuff that I can’t do if I’m running a company.’
I reached across the table for her hand and put on my most supportive face. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my best friend. Except give her my secret Twix.
‘You know I’m here for you. Anything you need, you’ve got it.’
The very second the words left my mouth, I knew I would regret them.
‘There is one thing,’ she said, turning back to face me with a different, more determined expression. ‘I have a huge problem that needs fixing ASAP and I desperately need your help.