Eleven

Ann

“Happy holidays to you too, Pamela. Enjoy Ibiza.”

I honestly didn’t give two shits how Pamela spent her time, but she’d only mentioned about ten million times that her new boy toy was a DJ and had a gig in Ibiza, complete with a pretentious accent. I turned on my killer black stilettos and moved as fast as my feet would allow toward the door. As of seven minutes ago I was officially on vacation, unless some major newsworthy shit went down, until New Year’s Eve.

It wasn’t until I was behind the wheel of my car, the studio shrinking in my rearview mirror, that I began to relax. It was Christmas and this was the saddest, sorriest holiday of my life. I should be out with my girls—if they weren’t all crying ass babies—getting drunk and kissing strangers. I shouldn’t be pouting over two incredible lovers who can’t seem to make up their minds. I should be decorating a tree and drinking eggnog, finding someone to kiss under the mistletoe or have a quick holiday hookup. I should not be contemplating ways to get Jasper and Bryce to my place.

At the same time. Of course.

Because they thought they were slick, that I wouldn’t see through their tricks. I asked Jasper about Bryce at dinner and all he would say was, “He’s fine.” Same thing when I spoke to Bryce a few days later. They were going out of their way to avoid mentioning the other, but they were friends, best friends by their own words, so they had to know I’d been seeing them both. Maybe they didn’t engage in the typical post-sex locker room talk—that would be weird, right? But they knew.

I had to ask myself if I was willing to come between best friends? The answer, sadly, was no. But this wasn’t just about getting off. I liked them both. Jasper and I had a great time together, laughing and flirting outrageously and talking about world events. But Bryce was sweet and loved to read, plus the jock in him indulged my love of sporadic regular runs.

Shit, I liked them both. I wanted them both.

And I might be the thing to come between them.

With that depressing thought, I stopped for more Thai food than I could eat in one setting, but I could definitely finish it off for lunch and dinner tomorrow. A couple bottles of gin and vodka, because hey, a girl needs options. I couldn’t be that girl, that woman. No matter how much I wanted to, which meant I’d probably finish all the Thai and at least one bottle of booze.

Then my doorbell rang.

“Hey, Tasha.”

“Hey. Got enough for two?”

I laughed. “Got enough for four, so we’ll eat good. Everything okay?” I could tell by the look on her face and that subdued greeting that something was up.

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” She kicked off her shoes before she followed me into the kitchen. “Trish is getting back together with Bradley.”

“What!” That shit was not a question. That was, even at our age, a total violation of every friend code known to man. And woman. “How could she?”

Tasha shrugged. “Says she’s in love.”

I skipped over the cartons of food and pulled out the gin, vermouth and olives, whipping up two quick martinis and filling her glass two-thirds. “Asking for heartache if you ask me, which no one did. But I thought you had Charlie now.”

A smile played on the edges of her full mouth, but her lively brown eyes were dimmer than usual. “I do, even though he won’t be back for two more weeks,” she pouted, and then took several long sips of her drink. “Damn that’s strong. Thank you. I don’t want Brad. I mean what kind of guy knowingly plays friends off each other? I only gave her shit because she acted like I was somehow in the wrong, because of course he’d want her for more than a quick lay.”

Shit. My heart broke for Tasha. She was brash and loud and sometimes crass, but she was a good woman and a damn good friend. “Honey he wanted you both for a quick lay because men love variety.” I tried not to let those words of wisdom hit too close to home. “The only difference is that she’s dumb enough to give him a second chance.” Which I couldn’t believe, damn her.

“I just can’t believe it. I knew we had some beef over his dumb ass but I still thought we were friends. I was wrong, Annie. So damn wrong.”

“So was I, but fuck any girl who violates the code.” I held up my glass and we clinked them harder than we needed to, spilling a little over our hands. “Screw Trish. May she reap what she’s sown.”

“Hear, fucking hear! Now let’s get out of these dumb work clothes, get comfy and drunk. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Sounds good to me.” We went to my bedroom and I pulled out sweats for us both.

“And you can tell me how that threesome of yours went.”

I froze for just a second but then I realized that I didn’t just want to talk about it, I needed to. Tasha would listen without judgment and offer up a good dose of laughter to make it all easier. But I needed some liquid courage before I said anything. I waited another fifteen minutes until we were both comfortable at opposite ends of the sofa with the Thai food on a tray between us. “It was incredible, Tash. More intense and exciting, and so much more satisfying than anything I’ve ever had.”

“Damn girl,” she shivered. “So why do you look like someone ran over your puppy?”

I took a long sip of martini, letting the brine burn a little as I told her all about their strange behavior over the past few weeks. “Can I be the girl that comes between them for my own selfish needs?”

“Girl, relationships are all about being selfish. Mostly. You want what you want, and your pesky heart won’t take substitutions. Why do you think you’re coming between them?”

“They don’t even mention each other, Tasha. And when I bring the other up, both of them just brush it off and change subjects. They’re friends. Best friends.”

She took a bite of satay and chewed deliberately, clearly thinking of what she wanted to say. Contemplative Tasha didn’t come out often but when she did, it was worth a listen. “They’re men, Ann. They don’t want to hear about another man, even if it’s their friend. You just assume you’re coming between them but really it’s stupid male ego.”

I thought about her words. Maybe she was right. “Still, they don’t want to do it again.”

“The sex?”

“Hell, I don’t know. I wouldn’t turn away another night like that one, hell plenty of nights like that one. But I like hanging out with both of them, too.”

I finished off my glass and let the booze go straight to my head. Suddenly, with my eyes squeezed tight, I saw an image of us. All three of us, sitting on this sofa with my head in Jasper’s lap and my feet in Bryce’s. Eating together. Laughing together. Loving together.

Living together.

“Oh. Shit.” I looked up and Tasha was staring at me like I’d grown a third eye.

“What?”

“You want them both. Like in a relationship.” She clapped and fell back against the arm of the sofa, laughing her ass off. At my expense. “I bow down to you, oh great one.” She laughed and bowed while holding up her plate to avoid spilling. “The rest of us are out here just trying to get one man and you found two hot studs. Instead of testing them out and picking one, you decided to keep them both. You are definitely the mob boss of gangster romance.”

I stared for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. “You’re completely insane, Tash.”

“Yeah, yeah. Blame me because you’re a sexual goddess. So, what are you going to do?”

I blinked. “What do you mean? There’s nothing to do since clearly they aren’t interested.”

“Come on, Annie, for real? Talk to them. Tell them you want to date them both. A real relationship. All they can say is ‘no’. If they do, then they’re not the man . . . uhm . . . men for you.”

I wondered if could be that simple. Just ask them. “That’s what you’d do? Just ask them?”

“I would. Because I want to get as close to my dream as possible. The only way to do that is to voice it.” She shrugged. “As you can see it so rarely works out for me, but lucky for me, the journey is fun as well.”

Was it my dream to have Jasper and Bryce together? In a relationship that was more than just sex? “I’m not drunk enough to answer these questions yet.”

Tasha stood and wobbled a little. “Then I will make the next batch!”

“Make it dirty,” I called after her.

She laughed. “Do you know who I am?”

“The craziest person I know? You used to be, but I think Trish has taken that distinction. But you are my dirty girl.”

“Damn if you talk kinky like that to your sexy men, they’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand. Or other areas.”

I shook my head, letting my thoughts wander as Tasha made more cocktails. Then, the drunker we got, the more a plan came into focus.

Drunk inspiration was real.

Very, very real.