A Different Kind of Forever(57)

“Yep.” Diane nodded. “He sure does.”

Sharon looked at her sideways. “Do you have a key to his place?”

Diane shook her head. “I don’t need a key. He has an electric pad thingy to get in. I know the code, but Fred is always there. Fred lets me in.”

Carol had her arm around Sue’s shoulder. “Who is Fred?”

“The butler,” Sue said carefully. “Michael has a butler.”

“Ooooh, really?” Carol made a face.

“Yep.” Diane giggled. “I think I’m a little drunk,” she whispered loudly.

“Me too,” said Sue, “but we’re almost home.”

They went up Diane’s walk. Diane fumbled in her purse for her keys, and Sue leaned against the doorbell. Diane made shushing noises, giggling as she tried to fit the key into the lock. She was leaning her head against the door, fumbling with the lock, when the door opened and Diane stumbled forward. Michael caught her, straightening her up.

She broke into a wide smile. “Honey, I’m home,” she sing-songed.

Michael stood, shirtless, jeans low on his hips, squinting at the women. He had obviously been asleep. He looked at Diane, then at her friends, and smiled groggily.

“So, I guess you had a good time.”

Diane walked around, stood behind him, and put her arms around his waist, head on his shoulder. “We were celebrating,” she told him.

He chuckled. “Celebrating what?”

“My rhizomes,” Diane said distinctly. Sharon and Sue began to laugh. Carol held out her hand. “Hi, Michael. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. I’m Carol.”

Michael shook her hand, then looked over at Sue. “Okay, what do I do? I’ve never seen her this drunk before,” he said.

“Well,” Sue explained, “luckily, the situation is not dangerous, only embarrassing.”

“Am I embarrassing you?” Diane asked him in a loud whisper.

“Of course not,” he said with a smile. He looked sideways at her. “You’re adorable.”

Sharon sighed. “See,” she said to Carol, “I told you. Good night, Michael.”

“Good night. Hey, wait, should I walk you home? Sharon, are you going to be okay?”

“Thanks, we’ll be good,” Sharon told him. “Carol is crashing at my place, so we’ll get Sue home and stagger the rest of the way together.”

“Unless,” Carol purred, “it’s too much trouble, Sharon. I’d hate to impose. Maybe Michael could drop me home?”

Sharon snorted in disgust. “Forget it, babe. That ain’t workin’ here.” Sharon waved. “G’night Diane. Sleep tight.”

Michael closed the door and turned around to face Diane. She stood, leaning forward against him, still smiling.

“I had a good time,” she told him, “but I think I need to go to bed now.”

“I think so too. Can you find the bathroom? Can you get undressed?”

Diane nodded, determined. “Of course I can.” She straightened up, turned around, and marched down the hallway. Michael shook his head, went into the kitchen and poured a large glass of orange juice. Passing back through the living room, he locked the door, turned out the lights, and waited until Diane came out of the bathroom. She had changed into a tee shirt, and grinned when she saw him.

“Here you are again,” she exclaimed happily. Michael went into the bathroom and came out with a bottle of aspirin. She was sitting on the bed, and he spilled out two tablets into his hand.

“Take these,” he said, trying to sound stern, “and drink all the juice.”

She did as he said; handing him the glass, then fell back onto the bed. He picked up her feet and pulled the sheet over her, turned off the light, stripped out of his jeans and got into the other side of the bed. She immediately curled to face him.

“I hope I’m not hung over tomorrow,” she whispered.

“Me too. The juice should help, and the aspirin. You’ll be fine.”

“I had a lot of fun. I have really great friends.”

“Yes, you do.” He could feel her body, pressed against him, starting to relax. He lowered his voice a little.

“You friend Carol seems nice, too.”

“She’s a bitch, sometimes,” Diane told him sleepily. “She thought the only reason we were together was because of sex. She didn’t think we could have anything else in common. Sharon yelled at her.”