Chapter 12 – Jessica

 

 

To get to the Plaza, I run to the subway stop that’s down the street from my apartment - and I grab a bagel on my way. Yesterday’s bagel had gotten ruined, after all. Plus, I’m starving. Dancing burns plenty of calories. And so does that other thing. Fucking strangers in alley ways.

I sit on the subway, eating my bagel. Part of me wonders if the people around me somehow know what I did last night. Can they smell it on me? No, that’s ridiculous. This is the subway, where the scents of pee and weed smoke cloak everything.

I’m safe on the scent side of things. But I still feel…guilty? Is that what this is? Guilt, hesitance, uncertainty? I’d never slept with anyone I wasn’t going to wake up to the next day. Not that I had any problem with people who did - to be honest, if I felt anything towards them it was usually jealousy.

The juxtaposition of my first one-night-stand with the fact that I’m headed to what was meant to be my wedding venue makes my head spin a bit. I close my eyes and rest my head back, using my innate New Yorker strength to tune out the shouting, moaning, screeching machinery, and other assorted noises that permeate any subway ride. With my eyes closed, I try to figure out what I’m going to say to them, if anything. Part of me still wants to go with Rosa’s “get free shit” plan, and the rest of me is saying that trying to get free stuff on top of getting laid is asking too much out of a 24-hour span.

The train jerks to a stop, and I count without opening my eyes. Three more stops. Part of the reason I’d wanted to look at the Plaza for the wedding was because I walked past it every day for months when I first moved here to New York and was working as a paralegal. I worked at the kind of firm that takes out ads on the side of buses, hoping you’ll get distracted and run into the bus while you read it. Nobody ever did, as far as I know. It was awful, but I worked there anyway, and every time I passed the Plaza, I thought about how one day I would be fancy enough, rich enough, good enough to get inside.

My rumination, as usual, proves totally unhelpful. I want to get inside, but doing so under false pretenses feels, to my lawyer-brain, somehow like cheating. And walking away with nothing would be not only embarrassing, but would cost me the deposit (which I’d paid out of my own pocket anyway). God, Jason was a cheap bitch sometimes. Who wants a ceremony in the countryside anyway? The last thing I need is a herd of cows as witnesses to my wedding.

I keep my eyes closed, waiting for the next stop. To distract myself from the decision I need to make, I let my mind drift back to last night - not that it needs much excuse to do so. I can still feel the cool air on my skin, hands on my thighs, the dampness between my legs…Without realizing it, I’m smiling. I can feel the muscles in my face curving up as I remember the kiss, the touch, the fuck. I twist my hips just a bit on the subway seat, and the light abrasions on my ass from the brick wall tingle in response, even through my skirt and underwear. I bite my lip, already wishing there was somebody else there to do it for me again. Do not masturbate on the subway, Jessica, I tell myself. Even without a single touch, I can feel myself getting revved up - heartbeat increasing, legs opening, panties just a bit wet. So I do the only thing I can to stave it off: open my eyes.

Around me, no one seems to have taken notice. I scan the faces just to be sure, and -

What the fuck. NO.

Down the car, there’s a guy in a tan jacket. A guy with a great jawline, sandy hair, lean body…and a dick that was inside me less than 12 hours ago. Fuck. That can’t be him. But it is. Even without the strobing lights of the club or the pale streetlights of the alley, my brain knows what I don’t want to admit: I’ve somehow managed to get on the train with my one-night stand.              

 

13

 

“You did what?” Nikki sits at the end of my bed, eyebrows raised in a half-pleased, half-apprehensive look.

“Exactly what you’re always telling me to do, Nik! I forgot about Kelly.” I’m sitting in bed, bare-chested with a sheet covering my lower half, sleep still blurring my eyes. “Also, we really need to chat about personal boundaries.”

“What? I made coffee this time.” Nikki hands me a mug and keeps one for herself. “Now, tell me everything.” I sigh, sip my coffee - which is too hot to use as a stall - and tell her. I tell her about the dancing, the curvy brunette that found her way to me, the whisper in my ear…and what came after that. (Or “who” came after that, if you’re feeling filthy. Which Nikki always was).

“Three questions.” Nikki says when I’m finished. “Were you drunk?”

“No! You know I’m a lightweight. I barely finished my first drink of the night before we started dancing.”

“Two: was she drunk?”

“No! We’ve talked about this - the ‘predatory guy’ thing isn’t sexy.”

“Okay, good. Last thing. Was the sex great?”

“Little bit, yeah.”

Nikki raises her hand in the air. “Well then. High five to you, my friend. Although…an alley? Really?”

“What? The bathrooms were all taken. And neither of us was feeling particularly patient.”

“Fair enough. You get her number?”

It hadn’t hit me until just then, but, “No. No I didn’t.” We’d had our fun, and then she’d grabbed my ass one more time and gone back through the door to the club. By the time I’d straightened myself out enough to follow her in, she’d disappeared into the crowd.

That’s when the alarm on my phone chimes. “Oh, shit. Gotta head downtown or I’m going to miss out on all that sweet sweet free stuff!”

Nikki groans. “You’re still doing that?”

“Little bit, yeah. Hey, you’re the one who told me to get over all this, and what better way to do it with clothes on than- ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Where are you going this time?”

“Some fancy spot downtown. The Crystal Plaza.”

 

14

 

A quick check of Google Maps tells me the quickest way to this new spot is on the subway. Just a few stops away. Not bad.

Nikki might be right…maybe I should stop doing this. But I’m still pretty bitter about the whole Kelly thing, and other than anonymous sex, what’s the best cure? Free stuff. So I’ve been going to all the tours we scheduled, all the free cake sampling events, all that stuff. Wedding cakes are delicious, and totally worth the extra miles I made myself run after trying 18 different ones. 

Today’s event is a tour at this Crystal Plaza. The only thing I remember about it is that when Kelly booked it (months ago now) I kept accidentally referring to it as the Crystal Palace. She didn’t like that, for some reason. Me, I think it made the place sound even fancier. Anyway, after she left, I hadn’t cancelled the tour, and now I was going to reap the rewards. Places like that always ply you with free stuff to try and convince you to “choose us! We gave you a free crystal duck!” Useless, but fun.

So I hop the train, grab a seat, and wait for my stop. While I wait, I people-watch. Scanning the faces of the crowd, trying to ignore the light smell of piss that always hangs in the air on the Red Line.

There’s at least three people on the train doing the Ride of Shame…and one drag queen who is definitely taking the ride, but without even a hint of shame. Good for them. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone brushing their hair back from their face - their brown hair. That’s stupid, I tell myself. Lots of women have brown hair. Don’t -

But I do. I look again. The woman in question has her eyes closed now, leaning back against her seat at the far end of the car. I remember the feel of her lips more than the look, but her face and her body? That’s a look I do remember. What I don’t remember is seeing the flash of a ring on her hand. But there’s one there now.

Shit. How the hell did I end up on the subway with my married one-night-stand?

I don’t entirely know why I feel weird about it - I mean, it’s not like we had any problems or swore never to see each other again, but still. This could be weird.

She opens her eyes, and I look away so fast I almost give myself whiplash. Was that too fast? Did she notice you? Well, don’t look back to find out. That won’t help anyone.

I wait, pretending to study the subway ad for a cut-rate lawyer that’s plastered above the doors. After a stretch of time that could’ve been 10 seconds or 10 minutes, I speak a peek back down the car. Yup, that’s her all right. Okay, relax. So what if she sees me? I mean, I’m not going to run up to her and say “Hey, remember me? We banged up against that brick wall…”, but what’s the worst that could happen if we did bump shoulders? A few awkward glances, a laugh or two? Or a blank stare?

The train lurches to a halt with the familiar screech of all NYC subway cars. My stop. Thank the god I don’t believe in. Ugh, how is it possible that this woman has somehow gotten under my skin so quickly? Maybe she’s a ghost? Or a ghost STD, like a bad knockoff of It Follows. Nope, not gonna entertain that notion -

I practically leap off the train and head for the stairs without a backward glance. Focus on what’s coming, I tell myself. What kind of illness does my non-existent fiancee have today? Laryngitis? The flu? Cake poisoning? Ah, that’s it. Food poisoning from one of the many wedding cakes she sampled. I’d make my apologies for my (nonexistent) wife-to-be, enjoy the tour, take the free swag bag, and be out of there in time for a late lunch.

It was a great plan. Until I got to the closest crosswalk and had to wait for the walk signal. At which point I look around a bit and realize Mystery Woman is right behind me. I almost catch her eye again, and look away just in time. I could swear I hear a tiny “eeep” from her direction. I though that was a sound that only existed inside a Hollywood sound mixer’s keyboard. For half a second I consider making a break for it across the street, and then a taxi (jeez, we still have taxis?) blows by me at at least twice the legal speed limit, and I think better of the plan. Just breathe. Look ahead or look at her. Pick one.

I look ahead. After an interminable few seconds, the light changes and I book it across the street. I don’t look back for three blocks. I tell myself it’s because I don’t have time for any of the potentially-ensuing awkwardness. The part of my brain I’m currently refusing to acknowledge, however, is telling me it’s because I’d very much like to do another round of the horizontal (or vertical again, her choice) mambo with the Dancing Dahlia over there. But out in the daylight, she’s more like the married minx. And everybody knows married minx’s mates bite. Jesus, what a terrible line of alliterative sophomore poetry that was. I hate myself for it a little.

Thankfully it’s only a few blocks to the Crystal, and I make it the rest of the way without incident. Inside the lobby of the building, there are about a dozen couples mingling, casting at one another the kind of glances usually reserved for the most loathsome of relatives at Christmas.  No sign of the tour guide yet. Good. Plenty of time to practice my excuse -

The doors swing open behind me, and I reflexively look for the next embattled couple coming to join the ranks. But it’s not a couple - this person is alone. And she’s all too familiar.

Okay. Last straw. This is absurd and I’m going to take care of it right now. Right now, in a guest bathroom if need be, or maybe at a cheap hotel down the street -

I cross the room towards her, and when she sees me her eyes widen. “Hey!” I come to a stop in front of her, and she opens her mouth to speak at the same moment I do.

“Are you - ”

 

 

 

 

15

“Following me?!” I ask, voice low and accusatory. This is absolutely nuts. The same train, I kinda get. Even crossing the same street. But now here he is, all lean and floppy-haired and slightly goofy, staring me in the face, at my own non-wedding venue!

“I asked you first.” he says, the same sort of anger in his tone. Where does he get off - “You did not!”

“Well, I at least asked at the same exact time.” he sulks.

“Still. What the hell are you doing here? I don’t even know your name, and somehow you’re at the same wedding venue I am? The night after we - you know- ”

“Fucked?” He offers. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one with a ring on my finger, miss ‘Your Place or Mine’.”

“Ring? What’d you mean, ring- ” Ohhhh, that ring. The engagement ring I’d slipped on this morning out of some weird sense of…duty? Faking my way in felt like playing a part, and I’d wanted to be sure I could do it accurately. So ring up it was. And now, I was screwed.

“Look, I - okay, it’s not. See, I- ”

“Wait.” Tan Jacket Guy’s lips quirk into a smile. “You don’t belong here either, do you?”

“I absolutely do. And what do you mean, either?”

His face falls, just for a second. “What? I didn’t say that. I said, ‘you don’t belong here’. End sentence. Period. No more after that.”

My stony expression lets him know I don’t buy it. “Whatever. It’s none of your business, actually.”

“Good. And I’m none of yours. So get out of here, why don’t you?”

“Why should I have to leave? I was here first!”

“Only because you got off the train first!”

“I knew that was you! Last time I take the Red Line, I’ll tell you that.”

“Please. The Red Line is the only train that runs on time in this entire borough.”

He blinks. “Fine, you got me there. Now will you please just- ”

A voice cuts in from the front of the hall. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Before we get started, please be sure to check in with me here. Reminder: this is a couples-only tour! Without a partner, I’m sorry to say we can’t accommodate you, as is clearly noted in your registration email.”

Crap on a cracker. Not only had I wasted the morning getting here and wound up somehow meeting my one-night-stand for a morning after, I was going to wind up booted anyway. Chancing a glance at Tan Jacket, I see that his face looks about as worried as I feel. Then he looks over at me, and the worry vanishes.

“Hey.” He says, quieter now. “Can I hold your hand?”

“Hold my what?” My incredulous expression doesn’t seem to daunt him one bit.

“Your hand.” he says. “What, were you hoping for something else?”

 

16

As soon as I say it, I almost regret opening my mouth. The hell are you doing? Why would you proposition the girl you banged last night and never expected to see again? Then again, maybe I had my answer right there. Maybe it’s fate. Or maybe I’m just an idiot. Either way, I hold out my hand.

The rest of the tour group moves now. Couples laugh and chatter, holding hands, touching arms, encircling waists. Pretty soon we’re going to be the only two left, and the jig’ll be up. Mystery Woman seems to realize this too, as her eyes flash with the realization. “Look.” I keep my hand up. “No sob story, but I’m supposed to be here to cancel my reservation. On the other hand, some of the stuff they give you in wedding grab bags at these places goes for a decent chunk of rent money on eBay. And you either got jilted, or you're not really supposed to be here either. Doesn’t really matter though. We both want in, and this is how we get what we want.” 

The tour guide swings by, sweeping up stragglers (aka us). “Come along, folks - you don’t want to miss this!” We don’t…do we?

She bites her lower lip - and takes my hand. “Just my hand, you hear me?!”

“Whatever you say, future-Mrs.-Forester.”

We walk quickly now to catch up to the main group, and she whispers, “Forester? Really?”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s a perfectly good last name.”

“Sounds like you should be wearing a flannel and hacking at a tree with an axe. Or have your picture on the side of that paper towel brand, whatsit - ”

“Bounty?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“With a name like Bounty, you’d think it’d be a pirate on the label, not a Paul Bunyan knockoff.”

A less-than-impressed pause, then: “Are you high?”

“I mean…not today.” This was a bad plan. Bad, bad plan.

Thank god, that’s the moment the tour guide stops the group and opens his mouth so that I can close mine.

“Good morning, everyone! I’m Roger, your guide for this absolutely delicious day trip through the finest wedding venue New York City has to offer. This,” he gestures expansively at the space around us, “is our Receiving Hall. Couples often greet their guests here for the first time as husband and wife - or husband and husband, or wife and wife. Variety is the spice of life, as they say! Variety’s a good spice for marriage too - we just ask that you refrain from getting too spicy out here in the open.”

A few appreciative chuckles from the group. My Mystery Fiancee isn’t one of them. As we head towards the next room, a couple drops back to walk with us: the man a short and beefy NYC Italian, and the woman a tall, blonde socialite type.

“Hi there!” the woman chirps, excitement splashing out of her pores. “I’m Tammi with an I, and this is my guy Johnny - Johnny with a Y.” She giggles at her own joke (a line I’m sure she’s been delivering to anyone who asked for months now), and tugs on Johnny-with-a-Y’s arm. “Aren’t these two just adorable, hon?” She sets her sights on my new partner in crime. “What’s your name, dear?”

I feel a little jolt at the realization neither of us had even thought to ask the other’s name. Whoops. Lucky for us, the fact that I didn’t ask doesn’t mean she doesn’t know.

Offered with a coy smile, “I’m Jessica.” Jessica. Jess. Jessica…Forester. Huh.

“And what about you, handsome?” Tammi leans close and taps my arm, pulling me away from the momentary reverie. “What’s the name of the guy who managed such a wonderful catch, hmm?”

“Oh. Ah, I’m Brent. Brent Forester.”

“Oh, how lovely! How lovely is that, Johnny?!” Johnny grunts, which Tammi apparently understands to be a signal of approval. “You sound like a woodsman.”

Crap, this woman actually wants to talk to us. Time to remember that college improv class you took to spend more time around Rose Meyer…

“It’s funny, Jess and I were just joking about that! She said I should try out to be the next Bounty Paper Towels model. You know, with the flannel and the axe?”

Tammi’s laugh is so absurdly raucous it earns her glares from a few of the closer couples. She doesn’t even register them. “That is hilarious, sweetie!” Turning to Jessica, “It’s so rare to find one with looks and a sense of humor! I had to go through all 7 of Johnny’s brothers to find that - just imagine it!”

Jessica snorts. I smile too, even though going through seven brothers is something I definitely don’t want to think about.

Tammi mock-pouts. “I knowww. Absolutely horrendous. Although if I need a stand-in at the ceremony, at least I have plenty to choose from. But enough about us! What’s the story? How did you two adorable ducks meet?”

How did we - Uh-oh.

 

17

For the first two minutes she was in my life, Tammi was just insufferable. I can do insufferable, I work at a law firm. Half the people I deal with on a daily basis are insufferable. But then, she asked the question. The question neither of us had prepared for even one bit.

“How did you two meet?”

Looking over at Brent (way to ask him his name, Jess), I saw him working to swallow the same momentary panic I felt spiking in my own chest.  I try to head her off. “Aww. We don’t like to brag.” Brag? Are you shitting me right now?

Tammi doesn’t take the bait for even a second. “Oh, don’t be absurd! We love these stories, right, Johnny?” Johnny grunts again. I’m momentarily glad Tammi seems to understand his monosyllabic responses, because I certainly don’t. Unfortunately, even if I did, it wouldn’t do much to get us out of this situation.

“I mean…we, ah…” Brent is coming up even more empty than I am. Tammi starts to frown. “We..um. We met at the park.” The park? Okay. Let’s see where this is going.

“Oh! Central Park! How romantic!”

“Actually,” Brent corrects her, “Not Central Park. Eastman Park. It’s over on the edge of Manhattan, tucked away in this little corner. None of the tourist guidebooks mention it, so I used to go there all the time to just get away from everything.”

His eyes are far away now. Is this park a real place? I’ve never heard of it. Then again, I don’t go many places that aren’t work or my apartment, so I can forgive myself for that. Plus, it’s not at all the point right now.

Brent smiles, and continues. His voice is more confident now. “Anyway, one day, I’m there, walking around the pond, and…ah, I come to the little statue - there’s a little statue there, of- ”

“Of Carolyn Kizer.” I chime in. “She’s my favorite poet, and most people don’t remember her. She even won the Nobel Prize. And for some reason, somebody decided to put a bust up in this little park in New York City. My friends told me about it and I had to go there.”

“So I come by, and there’s this woman sitting there, reading from a book in front of this random statue. And I don’t want to bother her - or for her to bother me, honestly - so I try to give her plenty of space walking by. Only I go too far, and the bank under my feet just disappears, and I fall into the pond. Not my finest hour.”

“But I thought it was cute.” Chiming in on this fake little tale is getting easier now. “And it was fall - the water was freezing! Once he got the mud off, I took him for a cup of coffee…and that was that.”

Brent and I steal a glance at each other under cover of Tammi’s delighted squeal. That was easier than I’d thought it was going to be! Although I got the sense it didn’t take much to fool Tammi.

By the time the tour’s over, Tammi and her grunting fiancee have gotten distracted by one of the other couples - and I’ve succeeded in keeping myself distracted from the reminders that my wedding here would have been spectacular…and to the wrong guy.

“Thank you all very much for your time here!” the tour guide calls from the front of the group as we mingle in the “Peaceful Gardens” behind the main house. “You can all collect your gift bags on the way out…and please enjoy a glass of complimentary champagne here in the Gardens before you go.”

“Free booze?” Brent looks at me, smiling.

“Do you even have to ask?” I toss the words back over my shoulder as I pull him towards the tables of fancy glasses of champagne.

“Oooh, these are even real glass!” Champagne isn’t my first drink of choice, but damn if this stuff isn’t good.

Brent grabs his own glass, then pulls out his phone. “Hey, will you do me a favor and take a picture of me?”

“What, nobody ever taught you to take a selfie?”

“Do I look like a Baby Boomer to you? I just need both hands for this, that’s all.”

“Okay, fine!” I take his phone and set up the picture - at which point Brent drinks from his glass and gives the camera the middle finger at the same time.

“Do I even want to know?” I hand the phone back.

“Eh. Just a little ‘thank-you’ to the woman that was supposed to be here with me. You know how it is. Live and let them fuck off. That’s the saying, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” I regard him with raised eyebrows. “Hey, is that park you were talking about real?”

Brent looks away. “Is that ring on your finger?” He looks almost hurt.

Shit. Way to ruin it, Jess. “Yes and no. It’s real, but there’s no one else attached to it. Not that it matters to you.”

“In that case, want me to take a photo for you to send to your ex?”

“What good would that do?” Part of me wants to just go for it, but that part is already mostly exhausted from pretending for the last several hours.

“I dunno. Sure helps me. Feeds my bitterness, and all that.” Brent finishes his champagne in a gulp, then meets my eyes. “Speaking of feeding things. Do you want to come back to my place with me?”

“Your place? Why would - ” I stop myself, because I know exactly why.

I don’t say anything. “Okay then. Worth a shot.” Brent sets his glass down on the table. I can tell he’s about to leave, embarrassed - and suddenly, I don’t want him to. I grab his hand as it leaves the glass.

Then I kiss him.

 

18

 

She kisses me. I wasn’t expecting that question to work, but I’m definitely not disappointed it did. Especially because it helps me head off the embarrassment of leaving along, and ignore the twinges of jealousy I’d been feeling every time the light glinted off that diamond ring on her finger. Jealousy? About some woman whose name I’d just learned? If I thought about it too hard, I’d have to admit it didn’t make much sense. So I stop thinking about it, and start kissing her back.

“Oh, look at you two lovebirds. So adorable!” Tammi’s somehow at our elbows, double-fisting champagne flutes.

Jessica stops nibbling on my neck long enough to whisper, “If you want a second helping, get us out of here. Now.” She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

“It was wonderful to meet you, but we’re - ohhh - we’re actually late for another appointment. Gotta run!” I don’t bother to say anything more, just grab Jessica’s hand and head out the garden exit to the street. Tammi watches us until we’re around the corner, bewilderment stamped on her face. Apparently, how we could want to do the horizontal mambo in private instead of neck in front of her is beyond the woman’s capacity.

I order a Lyft with one hand while keeping my other firmly wrapped around her waist, thoroughly enjoying the attention she’s still giving my neck.

When the car arrives (only two minutes later, thank the gods), we slide into the backseat together and proceed to ignore the driver and the rosary dangling from his rearview mirror completely. Her hand captures mine and guides it up and down her leg, teasing me with each inch closer she lets me get to the top of her thigh. I run my tongue along her ear, with just a gentle bite here and there, and her short, sharp breaths let me know that this is a good choice.

Her hand is between my legs, down low, squeezing my thigh. I had a fantasy like this as a teenager - although at the time, it involved Susie Carson and the back row of a movie theater. This is better. Much better. Jessica takes her hand from my thigh and brushes her hand over the fabric between my legs. By now it’s no mystery where my shaft is, and she takes full advantage of this knowledge by running a single finger along it. Even through the two layers of fabric, the touch is electrifying, and I start taking my own short, sharp breaths.

“Here we are.” the driver pulls to the curb outside my building. Driving in the city is usually a nightmare, but this time, I hadn’t even noticed how long the drive was. I manage a quick ‘thanks’ to the driver, and follow Jessica out of the car - not missing the fact that on her side of the leather backseat, there’s a definite wet spot. On the same hand, I can’t blame her, since I have to do a little “adjustment shuffle” on my way out of the car to hide my erection.

“My place is up on the top floor.” I punch in the access code to the building, and take Jessica’s hand on the way in. She hasn’t said anything since we left the gardens, but she doesn’t need to. Our minds are both in the same place. The same filthy, filthy place.

In the elevator, she takes my hand and puts it underneath her skirt as she kisses me. I can feel the warmth of her, through her panties, and she kisses me harder, biting my lip, drawing me in - the same way she did the night before. My hands slide up to her breasts, and I tease her, pressing her against the wall and holding her back from touching me while I massage her chest.

The elevator chimes, and the hallway in front of us is empty. “This way.” I lead her down the hall to my apartment door, her hands all over me. We kiss as I struggle with the lock - it finally clicks open - and we stagger into my place, a tangled whirl of lips and hands and half-removed clothing.

Thank gods Nikki isn’t here, is the last thought I have before Jessica starts undressing me. My shirt comes off, and she licks and kisses her way down my torso. My hands are in her hair, twining and twisting, holding her mouth against my skin. She bites me, playful nibbles at first and then more aggressively, dragging her teeth across my chest and sucking on my nipples. I moan, and she chuckles - not mockingly, but with pleasure. The vibrations of her breath tingle against my ribs.

Her dress comes off - so do my pants - and we’re standing, her pressing me back against the door, grinding against each other like teenagers at a school dance. Except there’s no old religious prude of a teacher here to tell us to “leave room for the holy spirit”.

There’s certainly a spirit in the room, and it’s anything but holy. Jessica pulls me away from the door and drops on to the couch, grinning at me. “What? I’m not doing all the work.”

I drop to my knees (at a perfect level) and begin kissing and caressing her thighs. Her back arches, hips pulsing slowly with each touch and kiss. I bite down hard on the fleshy inside of her thigh, and she cries out. “Sorry, was that too - ”

“No! No. If it’s too much, I’ll tell you. Otherwise don’t you dare stop.”

I slide her panties down her legs and off to the floor, continuing my trip to the center of her body. She’s got her hand in my hair now, and guides my head between her thighs. Her lips are delicious, the taste surprisingly sharp, almost bitter…I flick my tongue against them, teasing, testing, exploring. Her hips book towards me, demanding more…so I give it to her. I kiss my way along her slit, darting my tongue out to taste her, parting her lips and pressing my tongue to the moist flesh underneath. Swirl, lick, taste, suck over and over again, enjoying the pull on my hair as her hand tightens into a fist, relaxes, tightens again. She puts her legs on my shoulders, pressing my head deeper into her pussy, and I slide a finger, then two, inside her. Come here, I gesture with them, curling my fingers again and again, hearing her moans intensify as she writhes in place.

Jessica pulls my head up, kissing me furiously as her hands find my cock and she wraps her legs around mine, pulling me onto the couch on top of her. I taste copper on my lip as her hand puts me inside her, and I sink balls-deep almost instantly. No time for subtlety now - I brace myself on my forearms and thrust, quick and hard, heart pounding and thoughts racing toward just one thing. Her hands are entwined around my neck, her legs around my waist -

- and I feel her thighs begin to tremble. “Fuck yes! Right there right there right there - Ohhh.” Her hips buck uncontrollably, her body shaking with orgasm - and her cries push me over the edge  -

- I drive my hips against her one more time, and feel myself begin to shake as I cum with her legs holding me deep inside her.

“Holy shit.” Her legs relax, and I ease off of her. “We’re kinda good at that, huh?”

Jessica laughs, but sits up and pulls her panties back on. “I should probably go.”              

“Why?”

“Because if I stay, you’re going to get to watch me start to question everything and apologize for taking advantage of you and also can I use your bathroom before I go?”

“Jessica, relax! You didn’t take advantage of me. I wanted this too. Both times.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? You helped me fake my way through that tour…and you give really good blowjobs.” She gives me the finger and walks to the bathroom, but she’s not in a rush anymore.

When she comes back out, she settles back in next to me. “God, that Tammi woman was horrible, huh?”

“I give it three months before her husband gets arrested for literally feeding her to the fishes.”              

She edges closer, puts my arm around her shoulders. “Hey. So I don’t want to pry or whatever, but that picture you took? It was for your ex?”

My heart jumps a bit. Talking about Sarah always makes me feel a little guilty, and a little sad. But I’m still naked and sweaty, and so is Jessica…so maybe a little honesty is okay. Just a little. “Yeah. We were together for a few years. Got engaged, started planning the wedding…and then she dumped me. If there was paperwork, I expect it’d say ‘irreconcilable differences’, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.”

Jessica looks at me sympathetically. “If it makes you feel better…I got dumped too. Also by my fiancee. I don’t know what our papers would say. Probably ‘Scott is an incurable douchebag who sleeps with other people’.”

“Huh. I guess we have more in common than just enjoying naked activities together.”

Jessica grins, running her fingers across my thigh.  “Wait. If you got dumped, why were you still at the venue tour?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss Engagement-Ring.”

“You could. And I might even answer. But I asked you first, so…” She chooses that moment to cup my balls in her hand, giving them a squeeze.

“That. Is a mean trick.” I manage. She squeezes again. “Okay. Honestly? It’s because we already paid for all these wedding venue tours, food tastings, all that shit. Before we broke up. And none of it is refundable. So I’m trying to get what little joy I can out of this whole hot mess. So I figured, if I’m going to be alone and several thousand dollars in debt, I’m going to eat cake, taste wine, and get free stuff on the way.”

Jessica absorbs all this with a wry smile. “That’s…actually a pretty decent plan.”

“I mean, I sure think so. Now, I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

“Fair. I have to warn you though, it’s a lot less interesting than yours. After my fiancee and I broke up, I forgot to cancel the tour appointment, and my best friend Rosa said I should go anyway. Her argument involved a lot of free stuff too. So I went, and there you were, and now here we are.”

 

19

 

“You did WHAT?”

It’s Monday morning at the office, and once again my bagel time has been interrupted - this time by my very indignant best friend. “Three days of unanswered texts and FaceBook messages, and now I find out it’s because you had a one-night-stand, pretended to be engaged to him, and then banged his brains out again on his couch?!”

“Please don’t be mad at me.” I cringe a little. Rosa’s not wrong to be upset, anyway - I really had disappeared off the map for the whole weekend and -

“Mad? Sweetheart, don’t be ridiculous! I’m thrilled!”

“Thrilled?”

“Obviously! I mean, I wanted you to go have fun for a change, but you went above and beyond! I’m impressed.”

I feel myself starting to blush. “I don’t know what happened…I just needed to blow off some steam or something, I guess.”

“Well, you certainly blew off something - or should I say ‘someone’.” Rosa cackles. “So, what’re you working with here? Did he send you a dick pic yet? C’mon, give!”

“Rosa!” I’m bright red now, I can feel it in my cheeks. “No, I do not have a dick pic.”

“Wait a minute. Do you even have his number? Did you bang and bounce?!” Rosa’s pacing my office like she’s auditioning for the prosecution lawyer in a Law And Order rerun now.

“Listen, Rosa. I’m glad you’re excited, but I promise, it’s no big deal. I got his number before I left. Just in case.” I don’t tell her that the last part of that’s less than true. When I’d asked for it, he’d given it to me without any sort of  “use only in case of emergency” clause. And I’d used it more than once since then.

“Jess. This is great. You’ve been stuck in neutral since the breakup, and you deserve to have some fun! Now, tell me all about it.” Rosa perches on the edge of my desk, looking at me intently. I sigh, pretending to find this retelling tedious.

“Okay, so I took the subway to the tour….”

As I finish my story, the intercom in my office buzzes. “Ms. Hope, there’s a floor meeting in five.”

“Thanks, Cindy.” I mock-glare at Rosa. “See? It’s taken all week for her to get back into the habit of actually speaking to me after what you said.”

Rosa downs the rest of her coffee, unperturbed. “All that means is that it worked. Too bad you’ve already got a pal for extracurricular activities.”

“Considering how it went the last time I mixed work and pleasure, I’m gonna go ahead and say that’s not too bad after all.”

“True enough.” Rosa snags the last piece of my sesame seed bagel and chews loudly. “Better hope this meeting isn’t a surprise drug test, huh?”

“That’s a myth!”

“Really? I guess that explains why I got fired from the Dairy Queen in college even though I swore I’d just been eating packs of sesame seeds.”

“No, I remember that story. You said you got fired because you tried to eat an entire tub of rocky road instead of helping customers.”

“I was hungry!”

“You were high!”

When we get to the floor meeting, Rosa’s “fears” prove unfounded - no suited men carrying little cups are in the room. There are, however, lots of other lawyers. Including Jason and Violet. Their smug smiles make my morning bagel roil in my stomach. I sit at the opposite end of the conference table with Rosa, and try to pretend they don’t exist.

When one of the partners, Gerard Styles, sits down at the head of the table, I start to understand the expressions Jason and Violet wear.

“Good morning, everyone. I’ll keep this short and sweet, since I know we all have heavy caseloads to deal with. Unfortunately, the news I have won’t ease that burden - but you’re all the best of the best, so I know you can handle it. One of our Junior Partners has elected to take their talents elsewhere in the city.”

Rosa leans over and whispers to me. “Bullshit. He’s talking about Frank Stein, and the guy left because everyone on his team and their mothers accused him of harassment.”

“ - So, there is a vacancy to fill. Over the next few weeks, we will be reviewing cases and considering applicants for the position. It’s open to any practicing lawyer in the firm, but I do strongly recommend that you carefully consider your own talents and abilities before submitting for the position. It benefits no one for you to apply to a position you don’t really want or cannot handle. That’s all.” Styles gets up from his chair and leaves without muss or fuss. He’s never been one for many words or coddling anyway, so it’s no surprise.

As the meeting disperses, Rosa walks with me. “So, you gonna go for it?”

“For what?”

“The junior partner position, dummy! You could totally nail it.”

“I doubt it.” Suddenly, Violet’s at my shoulder. “From what I hear, you can’t nail anything that isn’t missionary.”

“Excuse me?!” Rosa rounds on Violet, and the other woman’s smirk wavers.              

“I wasn’t talking to you, Ms. Martinez.” she manages, staring over Rosa’s shoulder at me. “Although I’m not surprised you’ve managed to shove your nose into more business that’s not your own.”

“I’m sorry,” Rosa takes another step towards Violet. “Are you still cranky about losing out on the Liefeld case to me? Because I can guarantee you the clients enjoyed my company much more than they would’ve enjoyed staring at your shitty nose job.”

Violet gasps, and her hand comes to her face as she stalks off down the hallway.

“Don’t let that bitch get to you, babe. She’s just being awful, as per usual. I don’t know why it even surprises us anymore.”

I nod, and we head back to our offices - but Violet’s words are still bouncing around in my head for a long time after that.

 

20

 

That night, I’m home, curled up in bed, when my phone buzzes. My heart jumps a bit when I see the name on the lock screen: Brent.

 

Brent: Feel like tasting some wedding cakes tomorrow?

Brent: I know it sounds weird - but I don’t have anyone else to go with. And besides, there’s cake! Nobody likes to eat cake alone.

 

I stare at my phone screen until it goes dark. This whole one-night-stand thing is turning into a whole lot more, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Up until a few days ago, I’d only ever slept with one guy, and plus, I’d had no intention of ever seeing Brent again (or even learning his name). And now, here I am, three days later, having slept with Brent twice and thinking about tasting wedding cakes with him! The whole point of finding some random guy to fool around with had been to get some distance from the whole wedding craziness - a cleansing of my system!

“This is literally the opposite of what you meant to do.” I declare to the empty room. “But the last time you meant to do something, you ended up almost marrying the guy who was banging your case partner. Among other people. So your decision-making capabilities are in question no matter what.”

All of this is true. So there’s only one thing left to do. I grab my phone and make a FaceTime call.

When Rosa picks up, she’s wearing a charcoal mask and has her eyebrows raised at me. “Wassup, kiddo?”

“First of all, great Halloween mask. Second, I need some advice.”

 

 

 

21

 

“2121 Hope Street. 2100, 2110 - Ah!”

There it is. Bliss Bakery. The outside looks like a wedding cake itself, splashed in bright white and pink colors, with tall cake displays and pastel signs in the windows.

“Hey, you made it!” I turn, and there’s Brent, smiling and wearing the same tan jacket he’d had on the night I met him. He’s also wearing tight black jeans that do nothing to hide the bulge below his belt buckle - not that I’m sorry about that at all.

“Wow. You look incredible.” Brent smiles at me, and I feel myself involuntarily biting my lower lip. I can’t pretend it doesn’t feel good that he noticed. I’m wearing my favorite red shift dress, one that hugs my curves in all the right places. The one I haven’t taken out of the closet since that dinner with Scott and his friends last year - No. We’re not thinking about that right now. I smile at Brent, and we head inside.

“Welcome to Bliss!” the call comes from behind the counter, out of the mouth of a young woman who looks as sweet and soft as the cupcakes on her counters. “I’m Bri, and I’ll be right with you, okay?”

As she finishes frosting a row of eclairs on the tray in front of her, Brent and I look around the bakery. The inside is far less crisp and clean than the outside, with rows of cakes, cookbooks, and baking supplies everywhere. But somehow, I like it better that way. It feels sweet, warm, and lived-in.

“You must be the Foresters!” Bri’s grin is infectious. Brent returns it, and so do I.

“That’s us!” He takes my hand, gently enough that I could pull away anytime if I wanted to. To my own surprise, I don’t. In fact, I grip his hand tighter.

“Well, it’s so nice to finally meet you two. I have some cake samples set out in our tasting room out back just for you. This way!”

The tasting room turns out to be a small, oak-paneled room arranged like the dining room of a fancy house. I try not to think about the fact that it’s almost as big as my living room. “Here you go!” Bri gestures us inside. “I’ll leave you two to it - just let me know if you need anything or if you have any questions at all, okay? There’s tea in the pot, milk in the cooler, and wine on the shelf.”              

With that, she does indeed ‘leave us to it’, closing the door behind her. Brent grins lopsidedly at me. “Well then. Guess it’s up to us to forge ahead. Are we starting with light or dark frosted?”

 

22

 

I hadn’t really expected Jessica to show up. Honestly, I could barely believe that I’d even invited her along. What the hell was I doing, mixing someone I’d just met up in this whole “faux wedding” thing I had going? I don’t know, and I don’t really care - because what I do know is that I like having her around. It’s like having a “friend with benefits” that’s all benefits!

“Oh man, you have got to taste this marble cake, Jessica.” I gulp from my glass of milk and point at the cake in question. “It’s like a black and white joyride.”

“A black and white joyride, huh?” Jessica regards me over a bite of chocolate cake that looks almost as good as she does. “This one has raspberry filling. Beat that.”

“Who wants fruit in their cake?” I shoot back, rolling my eyes.

“What? Are you joking? That’s like saying you don’t like jelly donuts!” Jessica laughs, then stops. “Wait. Oh my god, you hate jelly donuts.”

“They squirt everywhere!”

“Since when does a man have a problem with squirting?” she sticks her tongue out at me and laughs again.

I laugh along with her, feeling myself relax. She actually wants to be here.

“So, this wedding stuff…nonrefundable, huh?” Jessica gazes at me across the table, and the cake sours just a bit in my mouth.

“Yup.” I nod. “Figuring that out was almost as fun as having to message all my relatives on Facebook to let them know the wedding was off. At least all of them couldn’t insist on still coming, though.”

“See, it’s not all bad.” Jessica tugs the straps of her dress, readjusting just a bit. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just…funny, you know? We’re both in the same situation, just opposite sides of it.”

“How do you figure that?”

“All the wedding stuff I planned - it’s not mine anymore, lets leave it at that - and you’re stuck with all these things that your ex-fiancee probably picked, yeah?”

“Pretty much. That’s very intuitive of you.”

She grins. “I’m a lawyer. Being intuitive is my day job.”

A knock on the door, and Bri’s head pokes in. “Sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted to drop off these images of some cake designs you’d asked about through email, Kelly.”

Jessica frowns, confusion on her face - and then the lines smooth out as she takes the folder from Bri with a smile. “Of course! Thank you so much.”

Bri smiles right back. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay? I’ll just be out front.” The door closes behind her, and Jessica turns to me, folder still in hand.

“So, Kelly, huh?”

I nod, halfway between bemusement and worry.

“Okay then. Let’s see what Kelly thought about cake. You didn’t break up because she liked jelly donuts too, did you?”

For just a second, I hear Kelly’s actual voice in my head. “I’m sorry. Actually, you know what? I’m not sorry. That’s not good enough for me.”

“Brent?” Jessica’s staring at me, and I realize I’ve been silent for a good 30 seconds now.                             I blink, hard. “Shit. Sorry. Just got lost on my train of thought there.”

Jessica moves to open the folder - but a little to my own surprise, I stop her. “Wait. Let’s not.”

“Not what?”

“Worry about what she picked. I know I said this was about getting back at our exes - and it is, don’t get me wrong - but I’d rather we did that by having fun on our own, you know?”

Jessica pauses. “Okay. Sure.” She tosses the folder onto a chair, and turns back to me. “I get it. The last thing I want to do here is talk about my ex, either.”

I nod, but I’m afraid I ruined the whole thing. I think Jessica can tell, because she speaks up again. “Hey. I’m having a really good time.”

“I’m glad. Me too.”

“Good. Oh, hold still. You’ve got a little something on your - ” she runs her finger across my cheek - a finger that, unbeknownst to me until just now - is covered in chocolate frosting.

“Hey!” I try to look indignant, but she just laughs at me.

“Nah, I didn’t get it. Hold still - ” she leans in, and instead of using her fingers…licks a bit of chocolate off my cheek. “Almost. There’s just a little left…right…here.”

That’s when she kisses me.

 

 

 

23

 

“Oh my god. Tell me you licked more than just frosting!” Rosa’s voice is shamelessly loud, as usual. The barista handing us our coffees barely bats an eye - this is New York, after all, that’s probably only the fifth filthiest thing someone’s yelled in here today. Still, though.

I take my coffee and glare Rosa out of the shop with a look that I like to imagine is akin to the face-melting energy of the Ark of the Covenant in Indiana Jones. It doesn’t deter her one bit. “What else would I lick, Rosa?”

“Oh, I dunno…abs come to mind. Or cheeks. Or between cheeks - ”

“Rosa!”

“What?! Anal play is perfectly safe as long as you’re sanitary.” she says without breaking stride on our way down the sidewalk.

“Sanitary and anal are two words that don’t go together in any lexicon.”

“Well then clearly you haven’t watched enough adult ‘educational’ videos, Jess.”

“Pornhub is not educational!”

“Says you! It’s not my fault you’re behind on things. Or not behind, from the sounds of it.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing. You’re going to have a lot more experience with being behind when this is over.” I laugh as we walk onto one of the empty neighborhood basketball courts.

“Jessica. Was that…trash talk?” Rosa looks at me, glee plastered across her face. “This new boy toy really does have you riled up, huh?” Rosa drops the basketball from under her arm and dribbles it easily. “Good thing you can score with him, because that’s one thing you won’t be doing here.”

These weekend basketball games have been a tradition for the two of us ever since we worked our first case at the firm together a few years ago. I mean, we say “worked”, but really we spent most of our time throwing crumpled-up paper balls through the little hoop Rosa had on the back of her office door. Once that case was done, we started playing for real - partially to avoid the horny jackasses at the firm’s basement gym, but also because…well, it was really fun.

I snag the ball from midair with a  grin. “We’ll see.” My machismo is immediately deflated when I toss up a warmup 2-pointer and miss by a solid foot.

Rosa laughs, collecting the ball before it bounces off the court. “Hey, so you remember how Sam and I have been talking about getting a dog?”

I catch her pass and nod. “Yeah! Settled on a breed yet?”

“Funny you ask. We were thinking less breed and more…person.”

Setting up my next shot, the words almost don’t register. “Oh, that’s a - what?”

CLANG. The ball ricochets off the backboard and into Rosa’s waiting hands. “Yeah. We’re thinking about fostering a kid. A dog was sorta always meant to be a step towards figuring out if we wanted a family anyway, so really we’re just accelerating things a little.”

“Accelerating? Rosa, that’s not the word I would use at all.”

She pauses, resting the ball on her stomach. “Yeah? What would you call it then?”

“I mean…a course change, at least. Or a massive shift. Or…I dunno, I can’t think of one word that sums it all up.”

Rosa shoots, but her shot is even worse than mine. The ball slams off the backboard, velocity matching the aggression on her face. “I thought you’d be excited.”

“Rosa, of course I am! It’s just…it’s big deal. And I thought you hated kids.”

“Babies, Jess. I hate babies. They’re tiny and gross and something about them is always sticky. But I don’t hate kids.”

I chase down the ball, mostly to give myself a moment to think. “And Sam wants this too?”

“It was Sam’s idea in the first place, Jess. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, but maybe you’re the wrong person to ask, what with your new whirlwind romance and all.”

“Hey! Don’t turn this around on me. I was just doing what you wanted me to, and that’s what started all this in the first place! Two minutes ago you were all for it!”

“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I toss the ball up, and incredibly, it swooshes through the hoop. Rosa doesn’t move to rebound it.

“Just that I have other things on my mind right now…maybe there’s not as much room for your escapades as I thought. I gotta run. You win, 2 - zip.”

“Escapades? Rosa, wait - ”

She’s out the gate and on her way down the street before I can catch her. Let her go. You know how she is. So I do.

“Hey, lady! You dropped the ball.” I turn, and some kid fires our basketball at me from across the court. I snag it out of the air, unthinkingly.

“Thanks.” is what I say. What I think is, Don’t I know it.

 

24

 

When the knock comes at my apartment door, I’m figuring it’s Nikki. So I shout, “You’re late! Come in!” That’s my first mistake. My second mistake is not leaping out my fifth-floor window when I hear the voice of the woman it actually is walking through my door.

“Brent!” What. The. Shit. It can’t be. But it is.

“Kelly?! What’re you - ” I hit pause on Super Mario Universe (which I’ve been playing for about 6 hours already), and briefly consider trying to hide the several bags of chips and 12-packs of Mountain Dew I’d amassed for this Saturday gaming marathon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kelly demands, sweeping through the kitchen and landing in front of me like some maddened crow. Except this crow has long blonde hair and a figure Michelangelo’s David would be jealous of.

I swallow my last mouthful of sour cream and onion chips and look up at her. “In life? Or on this couch specifically?”

“No, jackass! With our wedding!” Uh-oh. How did she -

“Frank from the Plaza called this morning to thank us for participating in their venue tour and to ask if I wanted to finalize our reservation. To get married.”

Whoops. “Um…must have been a mistake. Maybe there was somebody there who just looks a lot like you?”

“Brent, what the hell did you do?!” Okay, so she’s not buying the doppelgänger excuse.

“Kelly, it’s not so much what I did as what I…didn’t do.” Standing, I brush the chip crumbs off my pants and face her. “Specifically, cancel all our reservations. I was going to do it after you left, but calling all my relatives to cancel their invitations took a lot out of me!”

“So what, you’ve just been using our cancelled wedding to get free stuff?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“What makes you think that’s okay?!” Kelly’s not slowing down, and now I start to ramp up. This is how it always was anyway…why change the pattern now?

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that everything’s paid for with my money? And is non-refundable?”

“So you’re what, just pretending I’m sick or something so you can still do all these fancy tours and events?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well then, what’re you - oh my god, are you going with someone else? To our wedding events?”

“Kelly! First of all, none of this is ‘ours’ anymore. It’s mine. Just mine. You left, not me, so it’s probably better if you just stay out of it and mind your own business!” God, she makes me act like such a child. But in this case, at least, I’m not wrong. This isn’t her business.

Kelly still looks furious, about to unload on me - and that’s when the door bursts open again. This time, it really is Nikki. “Heyoooo! I’ve got snacks! And DOOM 3! Ready to get your ass…handed to you?” She trails off at the sight of Kelly and I facing off. “I’m gonna….go snack in the hall for a little.”

“No.” I hear myself say. “It’s cool, Nik. Kelly was just on her way out.”

Man, if looks could kill. Well, to be honest, if that were true I’d have been dead years ago by Kelly’s eyes. But even under this latest withering glare, I’m still standing. Kelly leaves without another word, and I flop back onto the couch.

“That sure looked like fun. You good?” Nikki drops down next to me and cracks open a Dew.

“I mean, not really. But killing Waluigi always helps when I’m feeling bad.”

“Works for me.”

We both grab our controllers, and I start trying to forget my ex-fiancee’s face yet again.

 

25

Sunday is brunch day. I’ve never quite grasped the point of the exercise, but Rosa loves breakfast food (“every time is breakfast time”, as she insists). So it’s become tradition to visit the greasy diner halfway between her apartment and mine every Sunday ay 11:30 for terrible food and on-the-sly mimosas. Don’t ask me how she gets that much champagne into a flask, but she does. Except this Sunday, it’s noon, and I’m sitting alone, gamely refusing to indulge the “stood-up” stereotype of staring out the diner window into space while sipping coffee.

I’m staring down at my cold plate of eggs instead.

I haven’t heard from Rosa in a few days. Our conversation on the basketball court keeps bouncing around in my head, and the worst thing is that I can’t nail down what bothers me the most about it. I should be happy for her, right? But I don't think I am. Not really. Besides, her dig at my “new romance” might have been offhand, but it still stung. Especially after all the support (and frankly, the pushing) she gave me to get it started in the first place.

That’s when an alarm chimes on my phone: Meet Brent for Flowers. I’d been so focused on Rosa, I’d almost forgotten I’d agreed to look at flower arrangements with Brent this afternoon. Another excursion for his nonexistent wedding. Not that I minded. Rosa was right - whatever’s happening with Brent is best described as “whirlwind”…but it’s been a very long time since I’ve experienced anything in my life moving faster than the C Train at rush hour.

I text Brent: Time to stop and smell the roses! See you soon! My phone buzzes almost immediately with a response: Looking forward to it! I catch myself smiling.

Corny as it is…maybe there’s a little thrill seeker in me after all.

26

When I arrive at the address Brent gave me, I think I’m in the wrong place for a second. The building is practically a skyscraper, and there’s no green glass or flowers in sight, save for the ones in planters stationed to either side of the front door.

I head into the lobby, and my concerns multiply. It’s just a standard entryway, barely different from the one at the law office. I double-check the address on my phone. Yup, Yukon Nursery. This is it. But where is it?

“We’ve gotta go up.” Brent’s voice comes from behind me, and I can hear the grin in it before I even turn to see his face. “Hi.” He hugs me, and I hug him back. Before he pulls away, he kisses my cheek, soft and easy. My skin tingles.

“Follow me.” he takes us into one of the elevators, and pushes the button for 17 - isolated at the very top of the panel.

Standing next to him in the elevator, I can smell him…like a forest in the summer. I don’t know what he’s wearing, but I can feel my own heart beating a little faster because of it. Or maybe just because of him.

The elevator chimes for the 17th floor, and when the doors slide open, I catch my breath loudly enough that Brent chuckles. “Pretty cool, huh? Wait until you see the rest of it.”

We step out of the elevator together. What I at first expected to be an indoor flower shop is actually a rooftop greenhouse - rows of gorgeous flowers are arranged in every direction, radiating out from where we stand at the center of it all, all the way to the edge of the rooftop. The sky above is a piercing blue (somehow I notice this now, even though it’s the same as when I was on the sidewalk five minutes ago), and the city towers around us. But this little rooftop feels like a whole different world. 

“This is incredible. How did you find this place?” I ask, the intoxicating aroma of flowers flooding my nostrils.

Brent smiles, easy and quiet. “Believe it or not? The owner is my old pot dealer.”

“Your what?!” I’m laughing, but Brent nods. “Yup! Marilyn used to hang out in my old neighborhood and sell bud to college kids. And me. Almost got busted one too many times and took her pursuits in a less ‘questionable’ direction. For the most part.”

“Yeah, but most days I just wish I’d moved to California. More flowers are legal out there.”

The voice comes from a row over, and when I look there’s a slight woman in a worn sweatshirt and a beanie grinning at us. She points at me. “You’re new.”

“Marilyn, this is my, ah, friend Jessica.” Brent says. Is it my imagination, or does he hesitate a bit before he says. ‘friend’?

Marilyn offers a relaxed half-wave to me. “Marilyn. I heard Brent finishing off the rundown on me. So, wedding-type flowers, huh? For the wedding that’s not happening.”

“Hey, you wanted to keep your deposit.” Brent shoots back, grinning.

“No, I told you I was keeping it no matter what. I have mouths to feed, you know.”

“It’s not my fault Chester eats half his weight in kibble every day.”

“Yeah, well, I should really just let him eat you instead. But you’re all lean and gamey.”

“You’re wounding me here.” Brent claps a hand to his chest, feigning pain. Marilyn grins. She doesn’t look sorry.

“Seriously though - you sure about this? Kelly’s pretty pissed, you know. She even called me to try and get me to not let you buy today.”

Brent suddenly looks uncomfortable. “The whole Kelly thing is under control. Trust me.”

Marilyn doesn’t push it. “Okay, well, long as you’re sure. I’ve got some actual customers over on the other side of the greenhouse, so can you two handle yourselves for a bit while I take care of them?”

Brent waves her off, the grin returning to his face.

“You have interesting friends.” I smirk at him. He smirks back.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Without thinking, I answer, “Maybe I’d like to.” Brent looks surprised for a second, and I feel a momentary twinge, a concern that I’ve somehow gone too far.  But then the smile returns to his face.

“Why don’t we start with flowers and go from there.” he says.

I nod, and we begin to walk down the row together. I figure that’s the end of it. Until I feel his fingers brush my palm, and he takes my hand with a gentle squeeze. I squeeze back.

 

27

The garden’s beautiful today. As Jessica and I stroll along the rows, stopping occasionally to touch blossoms and comment on the vibrant colors that Marilyn has managed to conjure here in the middle of the concrete city, I catch myself feeling something. It takes me a second, and then I realize, it’s happiness. It’s not that I don’t feel happy generally that means this is a surprise - more accurately, it’s just that I feel happy with Jessica. This whole thing was just a one-time goof, and now here we are a week later, holding hands in a garden and picking out flowers.

Jessica keeps sneaking glances at her phone in between plants. That doesn’t bother me - but the disappointed look that flits across her face every time she puts her phone away does, somehow.

“Hey, Jessica? Is something wrong?”

She looks at me, almost as if she’s surprised I’m asking. “What?”

“Not that it matters, but you keep staring at your phone like you’re waiting for Godot to show up.”

“Oh! It’s silly, I’m sorry. It’s just…my friend Rosa and I had a fight the other day, and I never feel good when we’re upset with each other. We’ve been friends for so long that something just feels off when we’re not okay. That must sound really silly to you.”

“Nah, I get it. If my friend Nikki’s ever upset with me, I can’t sleep at night. Although that’s mostly because I’m afraid she’s coming to murder me in my sleep, so.” I pause, then push ahead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jessica stops, running her fingers over a batch of blooming ladyslippers. “I don’t know. I mean, Rosa’s always been, like, my wild-side. And the other day, she told me that she and her partner are thinking about fostering a kid.”

“I take it your reaction wasn’t what she wanted?”

“It’s not like I was horrible, you know? I was just…surprised! Rosa always talked about kids like they were the ultimate surrender, you know? Like once you had one of them, you could never go back. I guess I just never pictured here as someone who would want that. And now she’s so upset with me, and it just feels awful. She’s even the one who convinced me I should go looking for a guy that night at the club, so really, she’s half the reason we’re here right now, and I can’t even tell her how happy that’s made me.” 

‘How happy that’s made me’. She’s happy. Happy with us. I revel silently in that information for a moment, and then set it aside with a deep breath. There are more important things to say right now. “You know, this was the one place that my ex let me choose when we were planning our wedding. Everything else had to be her decision, because she’d been thinking about it since she was a little kid, right? She was so sure about everything. Not that I had a problem with that, most of the time - it’s just the way it goes. But teamwork, friendship, relationships, all that…they go both ways. They have to. All I’m saying is, it sounds like you matter just as much to Rosa as she does to you. And that’s a good thing.”

“And you know what it’s like not to feel that way.”

I offer a wan chuckle. “I’m standing here with you, and no ring on my finger. Truth’s kinda self-evident. Which I guess is a hint that maybe taking anything I say seriously enough to apply it could be a mistake.”

Jessica leans in close, wrapping her arms around me. “I don’t think it’s a mistake at all.”

 

28

It’s not like I didn’t know most of what Brent told me in the garden. Intellectually, at least. But there’s a huge difference between knowing something logically, and reconciling it with your emotions. When it came to that, having Brent around to offer advice and an understanding ear made a huge difference.

“What’re you going to do with all these flowers?” I tease, leaning against him as we stand at the edge of the rooftop, looking out over the city.

“Haven’t really thought about it.” Brent muses. “Maybe I’ll just have them all delivered to my friend Nikki’s place. She hates flowers, so she’d destroy me, but it’d almost be worth it…”

“I like flowers too, you know.”

“Okay, then. It’s settled. I’ll send the first 80 to her, and save one for you.”

“You’re a jerk.” But I’m laughing, and playfully shove at his chest.

“Hey, it’s getting late. You want to grab some dinner?”

“Together?” The word slips out.

“Nah, I figured we’d each sit at different restaurants on the East Side and text each other about the meal. Yes, together.”

I feel an unexpected tightness in my chest. Tours, cakes, and flowers were one thing…but a meal? That was different.

Why not? If I said no, even if he didn’t ask that as a follow-up, he’d be thinking it. Truth is, there’s no good reason to say no to him, and about a dozen reasons to say yes. But then, suddenly, Jason’s voice is in my head. “You’re seriously going to eat another one of those? Good luck fitting into that dress I bought you - ”

And in that moment, I find myself getting angry. Not at Brent, but at myself, at Jason. Why was his stupid voice still there anyway? I hadn’t wanted to listen to him in the first place, and when I did, nothing good came out of it. He’d belittled me, hurt me…and dropped me as soon as it was convenient. And now, here he was, trying to ruin a perfectly great day for me when he wasn’t even around anymore. What a prick.

I take a deep breath. “Um, yeah. Sure. I’d like that.”

 

29

In the instant that she hesitates, I worry that maybe I’ve misread this whole thing. Maybe she’s not that happy with “us” after all. It’s not like she can’t be happy on her own. But then: “I’d like that.” It surprises me a little bit how much of an effect this woman is suddenly having on me. We’re only just getting to know each other, and yet the anticipation of waiting to hear her say whether she wants to grab dinner or not is enough to send my heart rate through the roof.

“Okay, great. We don’t even have to be fancy. You like hot dogs?”

“Hot dogs, huh? I was sort of expecting the Rainbow Room, the way things have been going.” I almost panic again, but then I see the sly smile curling the corner of Jess’ lips. She’s fucking with me.

“Very funny. I don’t know about you, but the last time I got within ten feet of the Rainbow Room, the hostess threw a broom at me. Seriously though, I know the best hot dog stand in the city.”

“Best in the city? I don’t think I believe that.”

“You will! Come on.”

We head towards the elevator, and I wave goodbye to Marilyn on the way out. She flashes the peace sign as the elevator doors close behind us.

Down on the street, I guide Jessica through the crowded streets, enjoying the tight grip that she keeps on my hand so we won’t get separated. Our destination is only a few blocks away, and we get there without any trouble.

“I found this place by accident.” I tell her as we stand in front of the cart. It’s emblazoned with flames and bikini-clad figures, and resembles nothing so much as a panel van from the 80s. The owner, Grover, also looks like a leftover hippie biker, but he cooks like Gordon Ramsay (minus most of the screaming).

“That sounds like there’s a fun story there.” Jessica elbows me teasingly. Then, to Grover, “I’ll take two with everything, thanks.”

“Same for me. And unfortunately, it’s less a story and more a - ”

“More a moment of intoxicated good fortune.” Grover chimes in from behind his beard as he slaps four dogs onto the grill. “The first time he came here, this dude was so high that he thought my cart was a unicorn pooping out hot dogs. And he still ate 5 of them.”

“In my defense, unicorn hot dogs sound amazing even when you’re sober.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Grover passes us our food and goes back to the tattered paperback he’s reading.

“Here, let’s sit.” I point to a set of steps leading to a nearby apartment complex. “I don’t know what it is about this place, but nobody ever seems to come in and out of it, so this is a perfect place for a meal.”

“Maybe it’s haunted.” Jessica offers, sitting beside me and looking up at the building.  She bites into her hot dog, and glee spreads across her face. “Okay, you were right, these are amazing.”

“I warned you. Best spot in the city. Now you’ll never be able to go to another hot dog stand because they just won’t be good enough. It’s a curse, really.”

“A delicious curse. I’m okay with that.” Jessica takes another big bite. After a pause, she speaks up again. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

In the middle of my own bite, I chew and nod yes at the same time. Swallow, and “Sure. What’s up?”

“Okay. Will you…tell me more about Kelly?” My face must have fallen, because she adds “I’m sorry, it’s just, hearing Marilyn mention her being upset about all this earlier…it was weird.”

Okay. Deep breath. I remind myself. You can handle this.

“Okay. Kelly was my fiancee. We met a few years ago, hit it off really well, and about 9 months ago, I proposed. But the closer we got to the wedding, the more things cropped up that we - that I - couldn’t deal with. I hated myself for ending it…I still do, sort of. But I knew I’d hate myself more if I didn’t.” I try not to think too hard about the pieces that I’m leaving out of that story - especially the part about the prenup. But that? That’s something I don’t even want to think about myself, let alone explain to this woman eating hot dogs with me while I’m pretty sure I’m falling for her. Some things are better left alone, I insist to myself.

Jessica doesn’t press it too hard, and I’m thankful for that. All she asks is, “Is she really that upset?”

I blow out a long breath. “No.” I lie. “And even if she was, it wouldn’t matter. None of this, the cake, the flowers, none of it, belongs to her. She might have picked them out, but it wasn’t her name on any of the checks. Besides, I’m really enjoying doing all of this with you. All the fun, none of the mess.” That part, at least, is very true.

“Right. I get it. There are plenty of things that my old fiancee - that Jason - sort of took possession of when we were together, you know what I mean? Sometimes he’d even insist on picking out the clothes I wore to be sure they complimented whatever tie he wanted to wear that day. And then half the time he’d change his mind by the time we got to the office.”

“Wait, so you two work together?” I ask, surprise making me blurt the question out.

“Um, yes. We do. But I hardly see him anymore, especially now that he’s got his new squeeze under his thumb. Barely even bothers to look down his nose at me anymore.”

“Sounds like a real stand-up guy.” I swallow the last of my hot dog.

“That’s one way to put it. There are lots of other ways, but you can’t say any of them on TV. Also, was that a little jealousy I heard in your voice when I said he was still around?”

I bite my lip, a little ashamed that it snuck out so obviously. “Maybe a little.”

Jess sets aside her empty food wrappers and rests a hand on my leg.

“Good.”

 

 

 

30

It’s almost midnight. But as I stand in front of the apartment door, raising my hand to knock, I keep replaying Brent’s words in my head. “You matter as much to her as she does to you.” I knock on the door.

There’s no answer. I knock again.  Still no answer, but I hear shuffling and the indistinct sounds of Rosa’s voice as she curses and mutters her way to the door. As the locks click, I hear her call, “I swear to god, Morris, if you - ” She stops when she sees me on the other side of the door.

“Who’s Morris?” I ask, offering a small smile.

Rosa’s expression is stony. “It’s midnight. What’re you doing here?”

“I came to talk. And you’re always up until 1AM anyway, night owl. Did you think I forgot about law school?”

Rosa’s posture relaxes, and she swings the door open a bit wider. “And?”

“Look.” My eyes drop to the floor. “I just…I came to apologize.”

“For showing up at my apartment at this absurd hour?”

“About the basketball game.”

“You mean how you cheated to get those last two points?”

I almost laugh. “No. About - about what I said.”

Rosa steps back, out of the doorway. “That’s a start.”

I step past her into the apartment - there’s a reading lamp on in the corner, next to her favorite comfy armchair that we dragged up here together after someone abandoned it on the sidewalk. There are stacks of books and case files on pretty much every available surface, plus cups of coffee on top of half a dozen of those.

I perch on the arm of the couch. “Listen. I owe you a huge apology. Coming to me with something so huge, so amazing, and having me react the way I did - I’m not surprised you took off, you know? I just…you surprised me. A lot. And in a good way, now that I’ve had a second to process it!”

Rosa regards me with a look that would have felled a lesser person. But I’m her best friend, so I avoid it by staring at the floorboards. “And I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I miss you! I want to know everything about this new kid thing, and I have a bunch of new stuff to tell you too! Please talk to me.”

“You’re a jerk.” Rosa says. “And I know that makes me sound like I’m 12 years old, but I’m really excited about this. And it made me feel really - I didn’t like the idea of not having you in my corner, is all.”

“Rosa! Sweetie, I’m always going to be in your corner.” I’m up off the couch now, standing in front of her. “I just - I didn't know! But I’m here now…so tell me?”

31

Two hours later, we’re whiskey-drunk and laughing.

“No, I’m telling you, it was this amazing garden up on the roof of a skyscraper!” I say, peering at Rosa over the arm of the couch, now cleared of assorted coffee cup and folder detritus.

“You can’t have a garden on a skyscraper!” Rosa insists. “The point at the top is too small!”

“It’s not that kind of skyscraper!” I laugh and almost spill my drink. “There’s a big open flat roof at the top, and it’s filled with flowers! And the woman who owns it used to grow pot!” I pause reflectively, then add, “I think she probably still does.”

“That’s amaziiiing!” Rosa pours herself another drink. “Where’s he taking you next?!”

“Next?”

“Well, yeah! You’re definitely going to keep doing this, right?”

I can feel myself blushing, even deeper than the already ruddy color on my cheeks from the alcohol. “I mean, yeah, I think so. He didn’t say anything yet, but he also didn’t not say anything, so….”

“Oh, you so have the hots for him.”

“Rosa, no one has had ‘the hots’ for anyone since the 90’s. On the other hand, I do kinda want to bang his brains out and then cuddle and watch daytime TV afterwards, so…”

“Dude, you’ve gotta go for it!”

“I’m just not sure. I mean, we’re both fresh out of really serious relationships, and jumping right back into something - isn’t that exactly the opposite of what you told me to do?”

“Sweetie, I told you to let yourself have some fun for a change. I didn’t say never have feelings again. But also, I need to meet this guy. If he passes the smell test, then we’re in business.”

“First of all, do not smell my boyfriend, and secondly, what is this we business?” I try to be indignant, but it doesn’t quite work.

“Wait. Do you realize what you just said?!” Rosa sits up, glee written all over her face. “You called him your - ”

“Oh no - ”

“Boyfriend!”

“Crap.”

‘What’re you all worked up about? It’s not like it’s news to me. You’ve been thinking it for a week now. You ate cake with him, for crying out loud! You don’t gorge yourself on dessert with someone unless they matter to you!”

“I’m not sure how you figure that, but okay. And no, I don’t want you to tell me.”

“Aww, man!”

“Wait a second!” I say, the thought having just re-occurred to me.

“What?” Rosa tries to sit up in her chair and fails.

“Who the hell is Morris?”

 

32

My phone chimes, and I glance up from the book I’m reading to see a Calendar reminder. It’s for a wine tasting weekend - a getaway that we’d booked ages back for fun, and that Kelly had determined was also going to be used for deciding which wines were good enough for our wedding reception.

I grab my phone and am about to text Jess, but I pause as a thought occurs to me. It’s a whole weekend away. This thing we’re doing has been fun so far, and I definitely want to spend more time with her, but is a whole long trip too much? Will it scare her off? Does she even like wine?

I take a deep breath and massage my toes into the carpet, like John McClane in Die Hard. I’m not fighting any German terrorists today, but this is shaping up to be an obstacle nonetheless. Especially because it’s in three days, and that’s not a lot of time to decide.

I text her, because it’s easy to feign nonchalance that way. “Hey! Feel like getting some dinner tonight?” Dinner’s a good start. If it goes as well as the rest of this has been, then I can ask her about the weekend. If not…well, then I’ve saved myself a very uncomfortable weekend away with no escape.

Ding! I’ve got an answer already. “I actually have dinner plans with Rosa. We made up! Thanks for your advice! Know what? Why don’t you join us? How about Fisher’s at 8?”

Dinner with her and a friend? I’d always hated it when Kelly brought me along to parties and events with her friends…but that was mostly because they spent their time talking about who they were suing this week - or who they were screwing. Not that I minded talk about screwing, usually. But Kelly’s friends tended to be of the belief that a few years getting Viagra-banged by a Hugh Hefner-lookalike was well worth the cash they’d come into when he died, and there’s very little sexy about that situation. In fact, it had been at one of those parties that things had started getting worrisome for me. It had been - nope. I stop myself. Dwelling on it wasn’t doing me any good now, just like it hadn’t done me any good right after the breakup. Plus, I had other things to worry about.

“Sure”, I text back before I can think myself out of it, “I’d like that! Mind if I bring along a friend too?”

This time the wait is even shorter. “No problem, the more the merrier!”

“Great! We’ll see you at 8 then.”

I blow out a long breath, and send another text. This time, to Nikki. “want a free meal?”

“what kind of dumb ? is that”

“where and when”

And with that, I’ve locked myself into it. Dinner with my best friend, a mystery woman named Rosa, and Jess. Right then, I notice that my heartbeat has sped up just thinking about it. Jess - Jess - Jess - Jess, it beats in time with my thoughts. How did this woman get so deep into my head so fast? That’s a question for another day, I decide. For now, I have to get online and figure out what kind of restaurant Fishers is - and also where it is.

33

“Finally! I get to meet the mystery guy. In person!” Rosa’s practically bouncing with excitement.

“I’m already starting to regret this.” I say, trying on the third dress I’ve pulled from my closet as I try to decide what to wear.

“Oh, please. You want to show him off as much as I want to see him.” Rosa laughs. “Not that one. The blue one.”

I pull the dress in question out of the closet and hold it up. “This one? I don’t know. It’s a little…”

“If you say tight like it’s a bad thing we are going to have a disagreement right now.”

“But it is! I mean, Jason hated it.”

“And we hate Jason! Sweetie.” Rosa crosses the room, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I know it’s hard, but you have got to keep looking ahead, not getting stuck behind in what he thought of you. You got out of that sham relationship for a reason. Is it really fair to keep letting him have this much influence over what you do and what you wear?”

“No, but it’s not that easy, Rosa. You know that!”

“You’re right.” She nods, a bit chastened. “Let me ask you something though. Do you think Brent will like it?”

“Probably…he said he loved the red one I wore to the rehearsal hall.”

“And do you like it?”

I look at the dress in my hands, sheer and midnight blue, soft and wonderful. “Yes.”

“Okay then. Screw Jason. Screw him and his shitty attitude. He didn’t know what you had to offer and he didn’t care. And sweetie…I think this new guy just might be the exact opposite of that.”

 

 

34

“Wait a minute. You’re bringing me to dinner with who now?!” Nikki folds her arms across her chest and stops dead in the middle of the New York City street we’re walking down.

“Oh, come on. You’d be just as mad at me if you didn’t get to meet her, so this way I figured I’d do something nice and avoid you nagging me incessantly. Did it work?” I offer my best “c’mon now” grin to her.

“Fine. But only because I never turn down a free meal. It is going to be free, right?” That’s not really a question, but I appreciate that she at least pretends a bit.

“Yes, Nikki, it’s on me.”

“Just like this new woman is, right? Or does she prefer you on top? Ooh, does she bench-press you because you’re so skinny? You should farm yourself out as a living weight for bodybuilders.”

“Sure. I’ll call the Silicon Valley types I know and have them whip up an app for that.” I say, deadpan.

“You’re no fun.” Nikki keeps walking, and I speed up a bit to keep up with her.

“That’s it - over there.” I say, pointing across the busy intersection to the restaurant set kitty-corner from us, with a bright sign proclaiming “FISHERS”. And as we cross the street, it’s easy to see that under the sign, standing by the glass doors, is Jess. She’s with another woman I assume to be her friend Rosa, but for the moment I’m too busy taking in the gorgeous blue dress Jess is wearing. It fits her perfectly, just like the red dress she wore to the reception hall. Her curves are pronounced enough that if we weren’t with two other people, I’d be hard-pressed to make it through the entire meal without trying for a repeat of the night we met.

“Yo, spaceboy. Quit fantasizing and pay attention. I don’t want you making me look bad in front of new people.” Nikki elbows me, not particularly gently, as we finish crossing the street.

“Oh, so now you care?” I whisper, waving to Jess as we head up the sidewalk. Raising my voice to a normal level, I call out “Hey, Jess! We made it!” She smiles brightly enough that I almost slip back into “spaceboy” mode. Man, this woman is doing things to me…

“Hey, Brent. This is my friend Rosa.”

“Hi, Rosa…it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me.” Rosa gives me the ‘you’re dating my best friend so until I say otherwise you’re the enemy’ look that every guy is familiar with. I don’t mind too much - based on what Jess has told me about her best friend. I’d be almost disappointed if she didn’t care enough to break out the glare.

“I have.” I grin back. “Actually, I thought your face was familiar from somewhere! You weren’t kidding when you said your best friend spearheaded those anti-voter suppression protests, huh Jess?” In actuality, I’d seen her face in a few articles months back, and thanks to my absurd memory, made the connection - but hey, Rosa didn’t have to know that.

Rosa’s stance relaxes just a bit. “You told him about me?”

“Of course I did, silly!” Jess plays right along. “Brent, who’s your friend?”

“My friend, right!” I laugh. “This is Nikki!”

Nikki tosses up a wave. “Sup. Anybody else starving right now?”

 

35

This could be a disaster. Dinner with just two slightly-acquainted maybe-dating people can be awkward, and here I was, doubling down on the odds because Rosa had threatened (mostly jokingly) to shave my head in my sleep if I didn’t. But so far, nothing terrible is happening. Brent’s hand rests lightly on my thigh, just above the knee, in a comforting, reassuring gesture.

Rosa and Brent’s friend, Nikki, are engaged in a fiery discussion regarding who the worst white male politician is - in other words, both of them are enjoying themselves thoroughly.

“So,” Brent leans close enough that I can feel the soft approach of his breath on my ear. “This seems to be going okay.”

I turn slightly to meet his eyes, smiling. “It is. And I’m glad.”

“Me too. Listen, there’s something I wanted to ask you about - ”

It’s right then that someone steps up to our table. This someone is very clearly not our waitress, but she wants attention anyway…specifically from Brent. She’s blonde, rail-thin, and wearing heels as high as her waxed eyebrows.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry to bother you, but aren’t you Brent - ”

Brent looks suddenly more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him, and cuts the woman off before she can finish her sentence. “Now’s not a great time - but look, here.” He pulls a pen from his pocket and scribbles a signature on it before handing it to the woman. “Here you go. Give me a call sometime.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” the woman gushes before taking off back to her cabal of giggling friends.

“Give me a call sometime?” I ask, incredulous. Nikki and Rosa are staring across the table as well, Rosa with a look that could kill and Nikki with one that’s more concerned than anything.

Brent looks a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you. Every so often people mistake me for some famous son of some other famous rich guy here in the city. I think he was on The Bachelor or something. I’ve just figured out it’s easier to give them a scrawled signature and a fake number so they’ll leave me alone. I’m really sorry about that.”

“Yeah, you’d think they’d know by now that he’s not actually attractive enough to be famous.” Nikki chimes in. “This is like the fourth time this month that’s happened.”