Page 30 of Anatomy of Us

Tessa

Ten minutes later, someone pounds on the door like she’s trying to knock it off the hinges.

“Méndez! Open up! Emergency!”

Zoe doesn’t move.

“I’ll get it,” I say.

Iris bursts in like a hurricane. Hair wild. Pajamas. Bare feet.

“Jesus, did you sleep together?” she blurts, then freezes when she sees me in underwear, covered only by a T-shirt and no bra.

“I just got here,” I snap.

“Oh. Okay. Whew.” She exhales like she survived a car crash. “But also, it’s fine, okay? Do whatever you want, we're cool here—” Then she whips back to why she came. “Anyway. Have you seen all the crap they posted on social media?”

“Iris, now is not the time, we already saw it and—”

“Shut up for a second. I’m thinking,” she cuts in, pressing her right hand to her chin like she’s about to deliver a TED Talk. “Okay. This is big. But not impossible.”

“What do you mean?” Zoe asks from the bed.

“I’m going to ruin their lives.” Iris pulls her phone out of her pajama pocket. “Virtually, obviously. I’ve got material, Méndez. I’ve got a lot of material. Photos and videos saved from the whole damn week. Multiple videos of the boss under the shade canopy, with the bottle, with me right next to him fanning him like he’s an Egyptian pharaoh.”

“You recorded all that?” Zoe says.

“Of course. It’s my private Boss Content Collection. I wish I could bottle the smell of his hair.”

Zoe sits up fast.

“You really have videos where it shows you were there?”

“I have videos where it shows I’m right there next to him. Shade, water, sunscreen three times. I even sing him a lullaby I make up on the spot, and it’s pretty bad, but it works.” Iris pauses for air like she’s been sprinting. “I’ve got everything.”

“And what do we do with it?” Zoe asks.

“Post it,” Iris says, flashing a wide grin. “Post it and watch that vulture ex-husband of yours choke on his own words.”

**

Half an hour later, we’re in Iris’s room.

It’s a wreck. Clothes everywhere. Empty water bottles on the floor. A pair of black underwear hanging off a chair.

“Not mine,” Iris says fast. “I had company last night. Don’t judge me.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I remind her, holding up my hands.

“Your face says plenty,” she jokes, dropping onto her bed with her phone. “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got. Actually, I had it ready to post the second you gave me the mom seal of approval. I even wrote captions.”

She scrolls through videos.

Wesley under the shade canopy. Iris beside him with a magazine. A water bottle sitting next to the car seat.

Caption: “The boss supervising training. Still not impressed by this team’s rondos.”

Another video. Iris fanning him.