Fixing Noah / Finding Noah - #ForNoah | +18 | BWWM

11 | By the Lake

I have a list of things I need to do for Zoey and Sabali. The work of a personal assistant is ever-expanding lately. Scheduling time for Zoey to interview my replacement is one of them. I went in the back gate and skillfully avoid the front gate where Noah's workshop was. He lived in the workshop in a bed I knew all too well that overhung the workshop floor. Whereas the back gate, which had a good view of the wrap-around porch, was a lovely way of avoiding contact. That night at the One-Night-Only Ball stayed with me. It burned me up inside for the need to want it to happen again and the pain we extracted from each other. It was ugly in that way. You can't let go of someone when you're drowning.

Not a lot of good can come from engaging and Noah isn't my problem anymore. Or, at least until his new personal assistant is trained. Then he fully isn't my problem.

I flip through the books in the back room. My steps became a habit, my actions in a long-ago routine. I put the sample of clothes that got shipped up away and bagged in plastic. Did a color-coded wood hanger for the outfits. Also, set up a room for Sabali clothing samples in Zoey's house as she asked me to. It would be a while before the two singers hit Sacramento again. I grabbed the items, so mailing a few things to them for the road was on the list of things to do. Nether had an official stylist yet. But both needed it. They had a very good idea of the things they liked and I could follow what they wanted easily. A flurry of interviews and events always followed each city and each concert. It takes a shocking amount of clothes to make sure you're not wearing the same thing everywhere. It's actually easier to be a guy because no one notices when they wear a black shirt and jeans at more than one event. Does anyone really say a word other than that he's being roguish and mysterious. But heaven forbid a woman who is going to over 29 cities in 2 months wears the same outfit twice. Gasp, what if the radio station interviewed notices? When she has to do at least 4 or 6 interviews and events a week. The best and easiest is when they do press junket-style events. Takes fewer clothes and less effort for me. I had to make a spreadsheet and keep a list of all outfits that's worn. Then figure out ways to wear things differently so they don't appear like the same outfit. Then mark that off the list of options. The whole thing is nuts, a clothing racketeering for small music artists.

As my day went on, it felt so close to old times working for Noah and Zoey before the breakup. In that weird before the time when my day would be organizing and filling out schedules. Then a round of replying to messages, editing and then my day would be done. I'd put the kids to sleep, then Noah would slip into the door of my room and it was our time. But it's not old times. The weirdness lingers even when I'm going through the same habits. I headed out to sit at that wrap-around porch like old times. The glass of water I poured for myself would normally be coffee. But I've yet to have a cup since the last one Noah made. The habit of my life last year was so automatic my brain didn't even fully process most of it. The cup of water was already on the table. My butt was sitting on the front porch seat. Then I was opening the notebook to work on Sabali and Zoey's social media. It was weird and my thoughts barely processed the cold water as I clicked through the first of today's work. But when my eyes did the normal glance at Noah's workshop.

The black BMW outside Noah's workshop turned on without anyone inside it. A beep beep of lights and the front door opened remotely. Noah didn't get a lot of visitors. His agent, his friends, and his sister were normally the extent of the traffic. None of them had black BMW's with all the trim. It was the nosiness in me that had me stopping work and watching the woman in her hooded, tight-cut trench coat. She walked to the car without looking back at Noah at the entrance of his workshop. My gut clenched. She was a little too far away to see her face, but Noah didn't wave at her when she left. But he stood and watched her car leave through the front gate. He didn't leave his spot as she cleared the front gate.