Tender loving care in our world translates to two things: Calories and alcohol.

Trix supplied the wine by snatching a few imported bottles from her grandmother’s pantry while I easily ordered a few pizzas to be delivered to Melanie’s apartment the moment we arrived after the signing.

Melanie probably would have preferred to sulk alone but she’ll get her chance to do that. Her eyes occasionally slip over to the stack of unsigned books left over from the signing. Trix and I do our best to distract her from that. That’s future Melanie’s problem.

Tonight is tipsy pizza night and it doesn’t take long until the three of us are sprawled out in the living room with a few empty bottles and gnawed-on crusts.

I close the refrigerator door with a fresh bottle in hand, pausing for a second to admire the bunch of ribbons she has hanging from a magnetic clip beside the ice dispenser. There are six ribbons there, the newest pink edition hanging in the front with purple, green, gold, red, and silver following behind.

“Bitch, hurry up!” Trix shouts from the couch. “I’m drying out.”

I walk back into the living room and set the bottle down on the coffee table in front of Trix, who promptly snatches it along with the corkscrew.

Melanie has crawled from her spot on the floor to her work desk in the corner again. She sits in the chair and stares at her laptop with a sunken look on her face.

I scold her. “Hey. No, no. No work.” I snap my fingers. “Come back here.”

“I’m just checking to see if anyone is talking shit about me,” she says.

“No.” I look at Trix. “You were supposed to be watching her.”

Trix twists the corkscrew. “She gave me a dollar,” she says, popping the cork out.

I lower to the floor, plopping down to rest my back on the couch. “Well, whatever. I give up. Be sad.” I shove the end of a pizza crust into my mouth, instantly regretting it. I’m already very full but I can’t seem to stop munching.

Melanie groans and slinks back to the floor. “Fine,” she says as she settles on her cushion by the coffee table. “You’re right. You’re totally right. I should not dwell.”

Trix’s phone vibrates against the end table. Again. She ignores it. Again.

Melanie squints. “Okay, who the hell is texting you so much?”

“Booty call bodyguard, huh?” I ask.

Trix nods. “Unfortunately.”

“Ohh,” Melanie muses. “Booty Call Bodyguard. That’s a good title.”

I chuckle. “Still haven’t talked to him yet?”

“I will.” Trix picks up her glass. “Tomorrow. Papa’s lawyers are coming to talk to me so I’ll probably run into him then.”

“To Papa ‘Gento,” I toast.

They both raise their glasses and we all take a sip to the best damn mafia dad in the world.

Melanie chuckles behind her glass. “Remember the time he told Robbie to cut his fucking hair?”

“Well, to be fair,” I laugh, “it was longer than yours back then.”

Trix rolls a fist and gestures with it just like her father does. “Oy! Young man,” she says, immersed in an Italian accent. “You got nice chin there. Why you gotta disrespect it with that mane?”

Melanie grins. “He’s never let it get longer than his earlobes since.”

Trix’s phone vibrates again and we groan.

I extend my hand. “Give it to me.”

“No,” Trix says.

“Give it to me. Give it to me. Trix. Give it to me.”

She snorts. “Jesus, is this what sex with you is like?”

I pop off the floor but Trix is much too close. She grabs the phone before I do.

“Okay, okay!” she says, swiping the screen. “I’ll tell him to back off.”

“Tell him you are not interested in continuing a physical relationship with him, nor are you looking to begin an emotional one,” I say, my words slurring. “You need to set some boundaries with him.”

Melanie shakes her head. “If a guy is aggressive enough, that won’t work. It just turns them on.”

“Then, what do you suggest she do?”

She shrugs. “Kill him?”

“Well.” Trix cringes. “That’s a dick pic.”

My head snaps toward Melanie at the same time she looks at me. We both bolt off the floor and rush to stand behind Trix’s shoulders to get a closer look.

“Ladies,” Trix sighs, “meet the very best part of all my bad decisions.”

My jaw drops at his impressive girth. “Whoa.”

Melanie giggles. “Not bad, Marky.”

“Indeed.” Trix clicks her tongue. “Too bad it’s connected to an overbearing, possessive jerk.”

I pat her inked shoulder on the way to my spot on the floor. “Boundaries,” I say.

“Yeah, I know.” She taps out a message and sends it off. “We’ll see how he takes that…”

Melanie plunks down on her cushion again. “I’ve never received a dick pic.”

I blink. “Really?”

“Never,” she says.

“My Black Book profile gets them all the time. I finally had to stop checking it and created a new one with a fake identity.”

Trix leans up. “Wait, Robbie never sent you a picture of his junk? That can’t be right.”

Melanie shakes her head. “Never not once. However, the bathroom mirror drawings were a pretty accurate representation, I have to admit.”

Trix exhales hard at the ceiling. “How are we all single? Can I just point out how utterly unfair that is?”

“You noticed that, too, huh?” I mutter.

“I honestly can’t remember the last time we were all in relationships at the same time.” She pauses. “Have we ever all been in relationships at the same time?”

“I don’t think so,” I say, thinking back.

“Well,” Melanie grunts from the floor, “you gals can mope all you want. I, for one, love being single. I can do whatever I want, whenever I please. I can receive flowers from strangers without anyone pissing a bitch about it. It’s great.”

Trix looks at her. “There’s nothing you miss about being in a relationship?”

Melanie wrinkles her nose. “We talking in general or with Robbie specifically?” she asks.

“Robbie, let’s say. But only because I’m genuinely curious.”

I raise a finger. “Me, too.”

Melanie stares off for a moment. “I miss his vasectomy. Does that count?”

“No,” Trix says.

“Oh. Then, no.”

I snort and pick up my glass. “I miss the deep, soulful chats,” I say, taking a sip. “Staying up all night just talking with sex being the furthest thing from your minds…”

“Yeah,” Trix says with a sigh. “Those are nice.”

“Multiple orgasms,” Melanie says.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Those are nice, too.”

“No, I mean Robbie,” she says. “He can have them.”

I raise my head. “Robbie? Seriously?”

“No, he can’t,” Trix says. “Men can’t do that. Can they do that?”

Melanie nods. “Oh, yes. Some can and he could.” She sighs. “That man could pull out, come all over my tits, go right back in, and pound me until we both came together. Now, that... that a girl might miss. But the rest of it?” She waves a hand. “Nah.”

I blow a raspberry until I run out of air. “Sex. That is all.”

“And not just any sex,” Trix says. “Mind-blowing, body-tingling, need-to-rehydrate-mid-boning sex.”

My mind wanders back to that room on the third floor. Naked and chilled to the core but I had sweat on my brow and heat rising off my skin. I could feel the outline of his cock pushed against my clit. Just five more minutes and I’m sure I would have been screaming his name.

Mr. Snow.

“No-ra!”

I snap to attention. “Huh?”

“I said, how’s the stress going?” Melanie asks, her eyes squinting. “You okay?”

“Uh…” I swallow. “Yeah, I’m just… really fucking drunk.”

“Good. I’m not the only one, then…”

We all raise our glasses once more, each one of us throwing back whatever was left inside and chugging it down our throats. A little wine dribbles over my chin. I wipe it away but the heat inside of me rages on.

Mr. Snow.

I can’t wait any longer.

I glance at the clock. It’s just after midnight. Clive works the club until two…

I feel for my phone in my pocket before pushing off the floor. “Be right back.”

Melanie nods at Trix. “Any word from Big Dick Bodyguard?”

“No, not yet…”

I wander down the hall to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Their voices are barely audible, meaning I can probably get away with a whisper or two. I slide my phone from my pocket but quickly stop when I realize that I don’t have Clive’s number.

“Dammit…” I say to myself.

I set a hand on the counter to keep the floor from slipping out from under me.

Maybe the club has a number.

Yes, I’ll call the club and ask for him.

I sit on the toilet seat lid and run a search. Thank god for auto-correct. I don’t think a Red Crick Board exists in Chicago.

A girl answers. “Red Brick Road. What’s your fantasy?”

“Clive,” I say.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uh.” I clear my throat and sit up straight, just like I do at work when I have to make official business calls. “I would like to speak to Clive Snow, please. Is he avurlable?”

“I think he’s walking the floor right now. Do you mind holding?”

“I do not. Thank you very much, ma’am.”

The line changes and soft hold music plays. I close my eyes, bouncing along to the smooth elevator music. Actually, I think that’s the same music they play in elevators in my building.

“Clive here.”

I startle. “Hello!”

“Nora?”

“Yes, hey. It’s me. I’m Nora.”

He chuckles. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not. I’m just a little tipsy… and thinking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

I lean back on the toilet. “And I want…”

“Want what?”

“Body-tingling, mind-blowing,” I say, licking my lips. “Sex with lots of water drinking.”

“You’ve never made a booty call before, have you?” he asks, amused.

I gasp. “I am not calling for booty… Okay, maybe a little.”

“Nora, even if I could leave here right now, I wouldn’t have sex with you tonight.”

“Why not?” I ask, frowning.

“Because you’re drunk,” he says. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Well, that’s… respectful.”

He laughs. “Sleep it off, Nora.”

“Will we see each other tomorrow?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Anytime after five. I work in the morning.”

I smile. “You never take a day off, do you?”

“Look who’s talking,” he jokes. “Do you want to meet at the club?”

I imagine the dark, silent rooms on the third floor. Pink lights and time limits. “No,” I answer. “Come to my place.”

He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I bite my lip. “I want to submit to you. I want you to teach me how.”

“Is that what you really want?” he asks, his voice low and wonderful.

“Come to my place,” I say again. “I have a condo on Michigan Avenue.”

He hums. “Of course you do.”

I grin. “Six o’clock. The Bailey building. Unit 4.”

“Again, Nora… are you sure?” he asks.

His voice curls around my spine.

“Yes, Mr. Snow,” I say.

“Then, I’ll be there.”

“Six o’clock,” I repeat.

“Six o’clock.” He makes that sound; that delicious, quick laugh I can’t get enough of. “I have to get back to work.”

I shiver with anticipation. “Goodnight, Mr. Snow.”

“Goodnight, Ms. Payne.”

He hangs up but I sit in place for a few more seconds just listening to the silent hum in my ears. Once again I start salivating like a damn dog at the sound of his voice. Mind-blowing, body-tingling…

“Hey, Nora!” Melanie slaps the door. “You fall in or something?”

“No.” I shove my phone into my skirt pocket. “I’m good.”

“Hurry up. Trix just got another dick pic and I have opinions.”

I laugh. “Be right out.”

As I stand, I catch sight of myself in the mirror again. My cheeks are flushed red. My eyes are bright and shimmering. For one damn second, I actually look relaxed. No thoughts of work or responsibility. No weight on my shoulders or creases in my brow. Just pure, blissful relaxation.

“Yes, Mr. Snow,” I say to my smile again.