CHAPTER 12
I know that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow because when I wake at four p.m., I feel rested and alert. I stretch, luxuriating in feeling good and roll over. That’s when my eyes hit my prize from the night before.
Six one hundred dollar bills.
And let’s not forget the invisible prize. A conversation with the hottest cop I’ve ever seen. He even took my phone number.
I’m a lucky girl!
I shower, prance around the apartment naked for a while and wish, not for the first time, that I had a girlfriend I could talk to about all this. Someone to confide in. The friends I made when I was with my ex didn’t carry over through the break-up. Wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I guess. I relocated for him, and now I’m back in New York.
I dress in shorts and a t-shirt and notice that my answering machine light is blinking. Pressing the playback button, I move to the kitchen and start making myself a bologna sandwich. Then I realize that I don’t have to eat like this anymore. I can go food shopping and get real food! That joy lasts all of two minutes as the first, second, and third messages play the same old tune.
I’d been on seven job interviews in the past two weeks. Each of the three messages was from one of those interviews, singing that familiar tune with different words.
We loved you but decided to go another way.
You were a top candidate but…
We’ll keep your resume on file.
I don’t expect to hear back from the four remaining job opportunities.
I bite down hard into my sandwich, which now tastes even more like cardboard than when I started, and plunk myself down in front of my computer.
I need someone to talk to. I’m going crazy inside my own head.
I open Facebook and look at my friend list. And sigh. Most of these people are no more than acquaintances, or former co-workers, or his friends. I should unfriend them in case I’m tempted to ask how my ex is doing. That would not be a healthy move for me, now or ever.
I scan the list, and my eyes alight on a name I haven’t thought of in some time.
Jennifer Williams.
I’ll be damned. We worked together at some temp job years ago and became inseparable. It didn’t matter at all that I was ten years older than her. She was fun, a wild thing, and I loved her like a sister, even sometimes like a mother. She loved the Goth scene. I wonder if she still dresses in all black.
I message her: Jenn, long time, right?
Thirty seconds later, she’s messaging me back: Pond? Is that really you? Shit girl, you flew off the radar like forever ago. Where the hell have you been?
I’d forgotten that she always called me by my last name. I smile and reply: Long, boring story, Jenn. How are you?
Her: Good, good. But I got plenty of time for long stories, girl! What are you doing tonight?
Now, I’m laughing.
Me: I guess I’m going out with you tonight.
Her: That’s right, you are! You still down in Long Beach? I’ll meet you at Minnesota’s at 8. Can’t wait to see you! It’s been too long!
I’m a little shocked by Jenn’s reaction. I guess I think time would have dulled the edge of our friendship.
Me: Great, see you there. Looking forward to it.
***
Jenn is at the bar when I arrive. She squeals like a teenager when she sees me, jumps up, and tackles me in a bear hug that takes my breath away.
“Pond, you look amazing, girl! What have you been doing? What’s your secret!”
Before I can even reply, she’s grabbing my hand and leading me to a bar stool next to hers. She motions to the bartender and looks at me. “What’s your poison tonight?”
I laugh and order an Iced Tea. We’re on Long Island, so I don’t have to add that part.
“Seriously, Pond. You’re glowing. What’s going on with you?” Jenn asks while we watch my drink being made.
I look at her like she’s crazy. She’s not dressed all in black, and I’m almost disappointed, but I guess the Goth look, even at her age, starts to look inappropriate past a certain point. It saddens me to realize we’re not young anymore and can’t or shouldn’t try to pull off the latest youth fashions.
But Jenn still looks great. Jet black hair, ultra pale skin, a quirky smile. She still has that eccentric, hip look that I was never able to achieve. She’d still fit in at a Goth club. I’m momentarily envious.
“C’mon, Pond. Spill!” Jenn insists.
“Cut it out. Nothing’s going on.” I laugh and take a sip of my drink. It’s nice and strong and tasty. I nod my appreciation to the bartender. “What’s up with you?” I ask in the hopes of deflecting more questions.
She happily takes the opening and tells me her life story in the span of a drink. I laugh at the rush of information she bombards me with. Things are going well for her.
“So, what’s Tony doing tonight?” I ask as I bite into a fried mozzarella stick. Jenn had a disastrous first marriage, worse than mine, and Tony, she’s just informed me, is Mr. Right. Real marriage material. I hope so.
“He’s home babysitting the kidlet for me. You remember Zooey, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. How old is she now?”
“Six,” she beams at me. “And a handful! But isn’t that sweet of Tony?! When I told him you got in touch with me and we were going out, he immediately offered to sit. He’s a dream.” She smiles happily for a moment then turns to me with a serious expression. “Your turn, Pond. Spill.”
I take a deep breath. Spilling to Jenn is the reason I contacted her, but where to begin? I don’t want her thinking I’m some kind of crazy lunatic. I want her to... to… understand.
“Well… have you ever had sex with someone you didn’t know?” I ask in a low pitched, nervous voice.
“You mean a one-night stand?” She laughs. “Oh, Pond, more times than I want to admit to. But, oh… what fun. So exciting… dangerous… mysterious.” She loses herself in reminiscing for a minute then turns back to me. “So, what are you telling me?”
“I had one recently that was, well… amazing. Mind blowing, to be honest. You know how they say in the movies that they didn’t know it could be like that? Well… I finally understand what they mean.”
“Holy fuck, girl. Are you saying he’s the first man to make you orgasm?”
I feel heat explode in my cheeks and nod.
“Are you married?” she asks. I shake my head no again and she smiles. “Well, then, congratu-fucking-lations! How’d you meet him?”
“I, umm…” here we go, “answered an ad.”
“Adult Friend Finder?” she squeals eagerly.
“Shh, no.” I scrunch up my face in anticipation of her judgment. “Craig’s List.”
She stares at me for a second then bursts into laughter. “Casual Encounters! Oh, Pond, good for you. When did you get so daring?”
Relieved that she isn’t wagging a lecturing finger at me, I relax. “I needed the money.”
Her jaw sags. “What? You better tell me everything, like, right now.”
So, I do.
To Jenn’s credit, she sits and listens in rapt attention and doesn’t interrupt once. When I finish my tale, she takes a long sip of her drink and orders another one. I can’t tell from her expression what she’s thinking, and it’s driving me mad.
“So, can I meet him?” she finally says.
“What? Who?”
“Michael,” she says, and her smile tells me she’s thinking very dirty thoughts.
“Jenn, you are evil! What about Tony?”
She taps a fingernail on the rim of her glass. “Watching isn’t cheating, is it?”
I stare at her, open-mouthed, and she pops a pretzel into it. I gag, cough, then chew it up and swallow. “You want to watch Michael and me? Doing it?” I ask when I regain my voice.
“Yeah, why not? Sounds like a fucking blast! Don’t worry, I’ll pay. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your boss.” I can see the mirth behind her eyes.
Then we both burst out laughing.
“Are you really serious, Jenn?” I ask, starting to think what might happen if I brought in my own customer or client or whatever you call it.
“Yes, fuck, yes, call him, Pond. Call him right now!” she urges.
Before I know it, I have the cell phone Michael gave me in my hand, and I’m pressing the combination that will automatically dial his number. Jenn is watching me eagerly, and my heart is beating a million times a minute.
This is crazy but… shit, I really am an exhibitionist. I’m excited.
Michael answers on the first ring, and I have no further time to debate the sense of this at all.
“I told you not to call me,” he says in his throaty growl that makes me quiver.
“Yeah, I know,” I say nervously. “But I found us a client. Does that mean I get all the money?” I blurt out.
“You’re bringing in a voyeur?” Michael asks, disbelief in his voice.
“Yes,” I confirm. “This isn’t a joke, really. Do I get the money?”
Why am I harping on that?
What is wrong with me?
“How did you find him?”
“Not him. Her. She’s my friend. I told her about what I’m doing, and she wants to watch.”
“Her.” He pauses, and I look up at Jenn. She’s got this big dumb grin on her face, and it makes me laugh. “Is she a lesbian?”
“What? No!”
Jenn is nearly sitting in my lap in an effort to hear both sides of the conversation. “What’d he say?”
“He asked if you’re a lesbian,” I tell her and we both break into loud peals of laughter.
“Kim? Kim!” I realize Michael is trying to get my attention.
“Yes, sorry,” I say, stifling a laugh.
“She’s with you now? Where are you?”
“Yes, we’re at Minnesota’s in Long Beach.”
“I see. Alright. Give me two hours, then meet me at the Long Beach Hotel. And Kim. No more drinking. Do not be any drunker than you are now. Understand?”
“What? You afraid I’ll throw up or something?”
“It’s happened.”
“Ewww! Okay, okay, I won’t be drunk, promise. See you in two hours.”
I hang up the phone, and Jenn and I squeal at each other like school girls before ordering another drink.
What?
I can hold my liquor.