I drove past them and past my apartment and straight to Ava’s little bungalow. I didn’t knock (I’d had enough of that word already today), but went straight to the patio door and let myself in.

She was slouched in an easy chair in her living room, one leg dangling over the arm, reading a book. Ava looked up.

Was the thought that came into your head too much to text?

I sank into the couch. It was a deep, buttery leather that made me want a long nap.

Birch and Aldo were sitting in a car a block from my apartment.

Ava sat up.

That doesn’t sound very good.

No, it does not. That’s why I came directly here.

Ava jumped up and looked out her front windows, then jumped at a knock on her door, and looked at me. Oh. My. Word. Had they followed me?

We had a very fast whispered consult as the knocking continued. It ended with us concluding that if someone was determined to believe we were non-official cover operatives, why not let them think it? Maybe we’d get rid of them or maybe we’d have a little adventure. At any rate, it beat Ava becoming zombified by binge-watching some ridiculous show.

She opened the door just as Aldo began another knock.

Who’s there? I laughed breezily while Ava said, Can I help you?

May we come in? Birch asked.

Before I could reply to the contrary, Ava had opened the door wider and motioned them in. They sat on the deep and buttery leather couch. I hoped they’d fall asleep.

The conversation started out pleasantly enough – much better than the brief one we’d had at the coffee shop – until they pulled out two pages and handed them to Ava. She motioned me over, to look. It was a set of numbered directions along with a map.

I sat back down and we looked at each other.

Don’t deny your status, one of them said. I think it was Birch, but I’d been wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans and was glancing down to see if it left a mark.

Due to our whispered agreement before Ava let them in, what was there to deny? However, I was beginning to think the “let them think it” idea had its drawbacks.

There are conversations in this wide world of ours that, though seemingly innocent enough, take you to places your would have never agreed to go. But by the time each of us had nodded a couple of times and said yes once (to a seemingly innocuous comment), we seemed to be up to our eyeballs in a plan to crash a party two towns over in order to find out who was there, who talked with who and what about.

I don’t know if these guys are legit, I said after Ava let them out and closed the door.

I have to admit, Aldo’s kinda cute.

Stop! What did we just agree to?

I think I’ll wear my pink mini. You should wear your swooshi midi. With boots.

I didn’t smile.

Oh come ON, Sadie. You wanted to pivot. We’re pivoting!

Against anyone in their right mind’s better judgement, that evening we pivoted to a party an hour from home that we hadn’t been invited to. I talked Ava into leaving her mini backpack with the poodle pin at home. Too identifying. (What was I becoming?!) I didn’t wear my swooshi midi. I wore white Spanx and a lightweight brown leather jacket. With boots.

to be continued . . .

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