Peyton is a pharmaceutical rep, which means she knows every doctor in town, makes excellent money, and has the social calendar of someone who treats networking as a competitive sport. She's also sharp, funny, and genuinely not boring — which puts her in a fairly small category in this town, and explains why I kept her around as long as I did.
The arrangement we had was simple, if unspoken: I was on Peyton's string for when nothing better was available, and she was on mine for the same reason. We both understood this perfectly and neither of us pretended otherwise. It worked exactly as well as that kind of thing works, which is to say fine until it didn't.
What ended it wasn't a fight. It wasn't a conversation. It was Amber — who didn't even try, and probably didn't know she was doing anything at all. Peyton's system depended on keeping men in a kind of low-grade dissatisfaction that made her useful. A man who was genuinely content at home had no reason to keep Peyton's number handy, and that was a problem her particular skill set couldn't solve.
She took it well, all things considered. We're still friendly. She brought Craig to my Christmas party, which is either forgiven or isn't depending on the day.
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