“I am going to burn this fucking place to the ground!” Jaimie yells. I stand uncomfortably behind her, switching my weight on my feet. “I will torch this motherfucker, and it will be all. Your. Fault. Brenda.” She thrusts her finger in the woman’s face. Poor woman. All she did was inform Jaimie that the pair of ridiculously expensive boots we have been searching for all day is sold out.
The woman shakes and anxiously combs her bony fingers through her spiky hair.
“I am terribly sorry—” the woman begins to mewl.
I’m pretty sure she’s on the verge of tears. I can see them building up in her mud-brown eyes. I look around nervously at the snooty women who look absolutely appalled. I kind of want to give them something to really be surprised about. Instead of doing something that could get me banned from the mall, I walk over to Jaimie and the worker, plastering on my biggest, most polite smile.
“Are you sure there aren’t any boots left?” I ask her, even though I already know the answer.
She looks at me with a mostly relieved but still on edge smile. “No, I’m sorry—they were in great demand and were on sale. You two got here too late.”
“If they were in such demand, then why weren’t there more? You knew they were on sale. You did this to yourself. You wanted to get an ass whooping today,” Jaimie gripes, pointing that finger again.
Good Lord.
“Maybe you could have gotten here earlier?” the poor woman suggests.
She did not just say that…
Jaimie’s eyes go wide, and I swear I witness a different, primal side of her unleash like a kraken. She lets out what I think is a battle cry or a signal for “death” and lunges forward, acrylic nails jutting out of her hands like extended swords. Luckily, I grab her before she can claw the lady’s eyes out.
“Time to go,” I tell Jaimie and forcibly turn her the other way. I look back at the woman and grin; she looks at me with a horrified expression. “Thank you for your service.”
“Why are you thanking her?” Jaimie screeches like a banshee as I yank her out of the high-end shoe store. “She just crushed my heart, and you’re thanking her!”
I cringe at her high-pitched scream and make the mistake of asking, “What’s so appealing about them, anyway? They’re just a pair of boots.” I truly don’t see the fascination.
“They were purple, six inches, true leather, had velvet fur, and knee-high. Need I say more?” she exclaims, waving her hands around manically. Wow, can she really go nuts over fashion. I’d rather fight over a pair of Toms than boots that could be used as a torturing device.
I shake my head. “I think I’m good. How about we go get some cronuts and a Frappuccino? Huh, how does that sound?” I smile softly in an attempt to cool her down before she goes full Hulk.
Her eyes visibly lighten, and she shrugs, flipping her curly black hair over her shoulder. “I guess I could go for something like that…” With extra suavity, she flips her purple leather Prada handbag over her shoulder and adjusts her Gucci sunglasses even though we’re inside and the sun is barely in the sky. “But not before we hit up a few more stores. My closet needs some more flair.” She lifts her chin and saunters off, swinging her hips side to side.
“May the Lord have mercy on my soul,” I mutter under my breath before running to catch up with her and her impossibly long strides. I am forever grateful I wore my ultra-comfortable boots today. “Maybe we can get you some Uggs instead…?” I lamely suggest in a low voice.
She cackles and pats my head before harshly pulling me into her chest. “You are such a doll.” She abruptly kisses my head and pats my head again. “God, I love ya.”
***
By the time we arrive at the food court, my weight has dramatically been increased by the plentiful shopping bags on my forearms. Some are mine since I actually did need some more clothes. But the rest are hers. I find it quite dubious that she needs so many clothes. Doesn’t her closet overflow?
A good thing though is that I finally got my hair done. I had it trimmed just by one and a half inches and had it styled like beach waves and added a few lighter shades here and there. I really like the look, and so does Jaimie. She added bangs and had hers dyed darker, if that’s even possible.
She looks like a fashionista, while I look softer. The difference between us is tremendous, but our friendship has grown to the point that I feel I can talk to her about a lot of things.
After she gets her treats and I get a salad, we find empty seats and sit down. We have to pull up three more chairs to set her bags down in. But once they are settled and we are too, we begin to relax our tired feet and sore shoulders. We should really be lounging in massage chairs for better results, but I guess sitting at all is all right.
“So how is Grey in bed?” Jaimie asks.
I almost choke on my water. I try to regain my breathing for five whole minutes before I finally have the strength to talk.
“What?” I squeak. She snorts, smiling as she pops one of her beloved mini-cronuts into her mouth. “What kind of question is that?”
“One that needs an answer,” she says sarcastically.
“Not that one,” I tell her, and she begins to protest, but I cut her off. “That’s too much of a personal question, Jaim’.” I shake my head at her and get a fork-full of lettuce. I haven’t had many friends in my life, but I know not to divulge that kind of information.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” She groans, waving the bottom of her coffee at me. “Rate from one to ten, ten being hella bomb, and one being yuck; hit that and I’ll gladly quit it.”
“Jaimie…” I whine.
“Olivia,” she sings my name.
“Ten…” I mumble before drinking some water.
She gasps and kicks me under the table with a shocked expression. “What was that?” When I don’t speak immediately, she kicks me again and sits upright with her full attention on me. “What did you say?”
I roll my eyes and shrug, picking at my salad with my fork. “I said…ten,” I whisper but shout when she kicks me again. Harder. “Ten!”
“Holy shit!” She roars in laughter and claps her hands as she shoots back in her seat. Passing shoppers regard Jaimie with confused looks, and I sink in my seat, slightly mortified. I shouldn’t have entertained her.
“Will you keep it down, please?” I plead, but she ignores me. I watch, as red as the tomato on my fork, as she slaps her knees repeatedly. “Why is it funny?”
“B-because you were so in-nnocent, but then you—he’s a ten!” She doesn’t even make sense.
“Oh, shut up.” I throw a piece of lettuce at her.
She throws it back with a laugh. “So…he’s a ten? How is he down under? How many positions have you guys tried? Have you awakened the neighbors yet? Does he make any weird sounds or faces when he comes? If so, reenact them. I picture his face looking like this.” She mangles her face, and I laugh. “And sound like this.” She makes the most ear-bleeding sound, and I laugh so hard, I nearly choke. But I launch forward and put my palm over her mouth. She is absolutely insane!
“Stop it, Jaim!” I squeal when she bites my hand. I go reeling back and burst into laughter. She and I must have been laughing for an eternity, gathering weird looks, but I couldn’t care less. In the few short months, she and Mason have become my rock. Alongside Grey, of course. But they’re collectively a very close second.
I stop laughing for a second when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and sneak a peek at her while she sighs and chows down on a handful of cronuts. It’s a wonder how she keeps her slim figure when all she eats are those chocolate things.
Julia texts:
Got it, you can leave now.
“You ready to leave?” I put my phone away and look up, finding her staring solemnly at the empty wrapper below her.
“Yeah, my will to live has decreased. I ate them all.” She pouts.
We gather the bags and leave the large court. But before we can leave, she stops to buy accessories here and there, and all I can do is mildly complain and follow her around. She buys me a pair of silver drop earrings, despite my protests. Jewelry isn’t my thing. The only kind that I wear is the bracelet snaked around my wrist. But I can’t lie, they go well with the charms and actually look nice on me.
“You didn’t need to buy me these,” I say as we leave the store.
“I didn’t need to,” she says. “I wanted to. And you can think of them as a gift for your virginity’s death.”
“You are unbelievable.” I shake my head.
“Unbelievably amazing,” she sing-songs and nudges my shoulder.
I roll my eyes and open my mouth to reply, when I turn and find the last person, in the last place, holding the last thing I’d expect: Grey in a jewelry store, holding a huge diamond ring. And he’s smiling like he just won the freaking lottery.