It’s Fat Friday at Precision Machine, and what that means is that one Friday per month, Delaney goes shopping for food the night before, and Stu, Lou and the crew eat it. Honestly, the only things that are getting me through this are 1) Fat Friday only comes once per month, and 2) it’s girls’ night tonight.

But first—it’s work, and high-cal, high-sugar, high-fat food: glazed donuts, onion bagels slathered with cream cheese, chocolate croissants because Stu is pretty much a girl when it comes to chocolate, overstuffed finger sandwiches and platters of crackers, cheese and pepperoni.

We don’t call it Fat Friday for nothing.

I’m at my desk working on a quote for Rolls Royce when Lou appears and leans against the door frame, a sugary donut in his hand and a saccharine smile on his face. “Hey, Lane. I’m gonna need to do an extra workout tonight after all the sweets.” He raises the donut and then pats his bulging upper arm. “Don’t want to start getting soft.”

And here’s the part where I stroke his ego, even though I really, really don’t want to. “You don’t need to worry, Lou.”

His face brightens. “You think?”

I make my sigh as quiet as I can. “Yes. You’re looking good.”

He winks at me slyly. “You coming on to me, Laney?”

“No, Lou. Not at all.” In any way. Ever. Until the end of all life as we know it. 

He snorts with laughter, his eyes darting from my face to my boobs. I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean back in my chair, drilling him with my gaze. This is one of about seven thousand things I’m not going to miss when I leave here.

“It’s prolly best. Workplace romances usually end up sucking. Anyway...thanks for getting the food. One of the things you’re really good at.”

This is probably how they’ll remember me, after I leave here: she bought good donuts.

Lou’s eyes return to my chest.

And she had nice tits.

“Get me the receipts for the food so I can reimburse you.”

“Thanks, I will.”

He’s smiling at me—a genuine smile, not his usual leering/creeper kind of smile, and I’m thinking how Lou isn’t so bad, not really.

“Any clients call you lately about shaft support, Laney?” He’s trying to say it straight-faced, but his lips are twitching.

And here’s where I mentally retract the whole he’s-not-so-bad thing.

* * * *

After trying to calm down a client who’s irate about a late shipment, running out to get Tylenol for Stu, and dealing with a cranky machinist who probably needs to get laid, I’m pretty much thrilled to be on my way to Maddie’s after work. I’m getting there a little before everyone else since she says she’s got two things to tell me—one good and one she hopes I’ll understand, whatever that means. I’ve been pondering what these two things could be, and that’s been interspersed with little sparks of excitement thinking about seeing Damon tomorrow night. Just knowing that something will most likely happen and not being exactly sure what that something entails makes my chest swell and my lower parts ache.

Mads is in yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt—perfect girls’ night at home attire—and holding Murphy as I come to the door with a bag of leftover Fat Friday that Lou told me to take. Murph is squinting contentedly, and Maddie makes his paw wave at me. “Say hi to Auntie Lane.”

I rub his head. He’s purring like a motorboat. “I hope that when I get a cat, he or she is just like yours.”

“He’s the best. And you may not have to wait that long.” She’s smiling as she closes the door behind me and sets Murphy on the floor.

“Oooh, are you saying that I may be out of my non-pet-friendly apartment soon?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. How does a closing of April 29th sound?”

I throw my arms around her. “Oh my God, soo good! Right after I close, I’m going to jump on my inventory order.”

“Have you been looking online?”

“Yep, a lot. I have a pretty definite list of all the things I’ll need, and I’ve been researching refrigeration systems. I’ve even picked out a name and décor.”

“Oooh, tell me!”

“Memory Lane Café, so part of my name’s in there, and it’s going to have a retro theme.”

“Oh, I freaking love it, Laney! That’s perfect.”

“Thanks. I’m so excited.”

“I can tell! I love, love seeing you like this. Come in the kitchen with me...I made a pitcher of raspberry margaritas. We can pre-game before Amanda and Kelly get here.”

“Hells yeah.” Following her, I can smell the spring-y fragrance of a lilac candle burning on the windowsill above the sink. There’s a bright array of veggies and fruits on the kitchen table. I take a couple plates out of the cupboard and fill them up with the finger sandwiches and crackers and cheese I brought. “What’s Jack up to tonight?”

“Out with Owen watching the Sox home opener.”

“You two okay with being apart for a few hours?”

She grins as she hands me a margarita glass. “Barely.” Her expression turns more serious. “Hey, I need to tell you something I did.”

“Slept with our hunky Business 101 professor to boost your grade? I already knew that.”

“Very funny. But no.” She hesitates, biting her lower lip as she tips the pitcher to fill my glass. Her hand is shaking a little. “I hope you aren’t going to be mad. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Kinda hard to be mad at you when I don’t know what you did, Mads.”

“Ugh. Okay. I got you to go to New Moon so Golden Boy—Damon—could meet you.”

Well. This is a bit of a surprise. I take a second to process it, mentally rewinding to that night. Maddie had been persistent about me going, and she’d seemed nervous when we were there. It all makes sense now.

“Are you mad? I’m sorry. I honestly would never have set you up like that because I know how you are about guys.” She’s getting babbly now, her dark eyes pooling with anxiety. “The only reason I did it was because of that reaction you had when you saw him the first time—I thought there might be something there, so when he happened to show up at my office—totally randomly, since he wanted to sell his condo and buy a new place—I felt almost like it was fate. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Relax, Mads—I’m not. Not at all. I know you were doing it with the best of intentions.”

Madeline expels a long, slow sigh of relief. “Phew. Still love me lots?”

“Of course. Always.” I give her an air kiss and take a sip of my margarita.

“Plus, it’s working out well, right? With you two dating now.” She smiles at me, her face slack with relief.

Guilt scrapes at me, thinking of how I’m not being honest with her. I know she’ll understand and forgive me, though, when I tell her later.

“Yes. It’s working out very well.” A hidden shiver ripples inside me as I wonder if I’ll be saying that after I allow things to get more intimate—most likely tomorrow night.

“Let’s get this par-tay started, bitches!” Amanda, making her typical boisterous entrance with Kelly, Maddie’s next-door neighbor. There are hugs all around, and then everyone heads into the kitchen, filling up margarita glasses, because hey, first things first.

Amanda sets her canvas bag on the counter and takes off her Yankees cap. “Check this out.” We all stare in surprise at her new red hair color.

“It’s...nice,” I tell her.

She snorts, raking a hand through her short crop. “You don’t have to lie. It’s a fucked-up dye job. Looks like day four of my menstrual cycle.”

Kelly bursts out in laughter. “I mean, if that’s what you were going for, she did a damned good job.”

We’re all cracking up, even Amanda. “I appreciate all of your support, whores. I’m getting it toned down tomorrow.” Reaching into her bag, she takes out what she brought.

“Oh my God. Funyuns? They still make those?” Maddie looks incredulous.

“Of course they do. It’s only one of the best snacks ever created. I probably should have brought breadsticks from the restaurant, but then I was like, fuck it. I want Funyuns.”

We bring our food plates and margaritas into the living room. Maddie tells her Echo to play Adele, because girls’ night is even better when Adele’s part of it. I seriously love getting together with my besties like this, curling up on couches and chairs and feeling all curled-up and cozy inside myself, too, glowing with the anticipation of girl talk, giggling and female bonding that can be equal parts silly and glorious.

Amanda and Kelly don’t know about my new business venture or boyfriend yet. I told Mads I’m waiting till after I close on the building to tell people about the café, and I know I need to tell them I’m dating someone so that it appears that I’m actually dating someone, but I’m not quite ready to discuss Damon tonight and deal with questions. I’m already stressed enough about the probability of getting intimate, and as much as I love these girlies, if they got a whiff of even the slightest sexual activity, they’d track it like bloodhounds.

Speaking of whiff, Murphy catches the smell of my tuna finger sandwich, his delicate pink nose twitching. He jumps up on my lap, and I let him stay, petting his head with one hand while finishing the sandwich with the other.

“I like watching you stroke your pussy, Delaney,” Amanda smirks.

“I’m sure you do. My mother actually thought you and I would make a cute couple.”

Her eyes are round with surprised pleasure. “Jesus, she did? I’m game, sweets, if you are.”

“You’d be my first choice if I was lesbo. But I’m not.”

She sighs, rustling in her bag of Funyuns. “Ah, my shitty luck. I’m destined to be a gay spinster, I guess.”

“Oh, stop. You’ll find someone, with all the people who go to your restaurant.”

“Maybe. Haven’t yet.”

“What about you, Lane?” Kelly’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet, looking up at me with interest. “Any prospects? Not trying to be rude, but we married people love hearing about single people hooking up. Brings us back to those carefree days.”

“Nosy bitch,” says Amanda cheerfully, throwing a Funyun at her.

I can feel Maddie looking at me. “Nothing really yet. But I think I’m more open to it.”

“Good for you!” Kel nods in approval. “You gotta get out there.”

“Yeah, if she’s not into women, she should find a good man. No sense in wasting a pretty vulva. You do have a pretty one, right?” Amanda lifts an eyebrow.

“It’s gorgeous. Christ, you’re unbelievable.” I’m shaking my head, laughing.

“Guess you’re the one we’re picking on tonight, Lane. I remember,” Amanda muses, looking over at Madeline, “having a similar conversation about Ms. Callaway here, where we were all encouraging her to fuck her carpenter.”

“And I did,” Maddie says, raising her glass and smiling.

“Let’s make a toast.” Kelly lifts her nearly-empty glass. “To fucking...whether it be hetero, lesbo, married, single...past, present—and future.” She winks at me.

I share a lot of things with these women, but none of them know why I’ve been so cautious, so closed-off about sex. It’s like I’ve had yellow CAUTION tape staked around me. But Damon Cavanaugh—he’s the first person to make me want to take that all down and replace it with a big ole OPEN FOR BUSINESS neon sign. He feels quite safe, because he is not real, and he has an expiration date.

He could be the one who can help me get over my hang-up.

The tequila inside me is mixing with growing excitement and pent-up desire, because damn...I want to give myself permission to try with Damon Cavanaugh, my faux boyfriend with a very, very real body.

I’ll drink to that.