L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

T
hree weeks after my near resignation, my Step Four card arrived the old-fashioned
way, by mail. I took the stairs back up to my apartment two at a time, feeling as
excited to see those envelopes as I did contemplating the fantasies. It was like getting an
invitation to an amazing party every month. Thoughts of Jesse would creep in now and
again, mostly leaving me marveling that S.E.C.R.E.T. had picked him, a tattooed pastry
chef, as my “type.” But they were right. It made me realize that I’d chosen men, crushes,
dates from such a narrow eld. But I didn’t regret my decision to stay in S.E.C.R.E.T. I
was discovering too much about myself to stop now. Still, sometimes a memory of his
arms, his wicked smile, would ash cross my mind and send a shiver through my whole
body.
I ripped open the manila envelope. The smaller, more ornate one slipped out. My Step
Four card. The word Generosity was elegantly printed on the back. Inside was an
invitation for a home-cooked meal at the Mansion on the second Friday of the month.
The Mansion. A home-cooked meal. Generosity indeed! The dress code, however, seemed
weirdly specic: Please wear black yoga pants, a plain white T-shirt, hair in a ponytail,
sneakers, very little makeup. A part of me was a little disappointed that I’d be going to
the Mansion but wouldn’t be allowed to wear something ultra-sexy or sophisticated. Oh
well, at least I wouldn’t have to go shopping beforehand. And at least I would nally be
going to the Mansion, this mythical place that had seized my imagination in both good
and slightly scary ways.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Will! I had promised him I
would go with him to a restaurant supply auction in Metairie. We needed new trays,
new chairs to replace the constantly fraying ones, and a sturdier prep table as ours had
become mysteriously tippy. Will was also on the lookout for a dough mixer and a deepfryer
so we could start making our own pastries and maybe even beignets. Normally he
would have asked Tracina to go with him, but her ankle was still on the mend. She
didn’t need crutches anymore, but she was nevertheless limping around the dining room,
making Will feel guilty about the accident. She even jokingly suggested that had she not
been dating him, she might have sued. I’m not sure she was kidding. I was to be Will’s
substitute girlfriend for the day.
“Be right there!” I yelled.
I shoved the envelope into my folder, slipped the folder between my mattresses and
raced to the door, interrupting Will’s second knock. He had on one of the shirts I loved
best on him, a muted red button-up that Tracina had bought. As much as she bugged me,
I had to admit she was getting him to dress a lot better, had even convinced him to cut
his hair a bit shorter.
“Hi! Right. Come in.”
“I’m double-parked. Just come down when you’re ready. You didn’t hear my honking?”
“Sorry, no, I was … vacuuming.”