A Life More Complete(6)
The elevator dings and I’m out and rapidly making my way toward the conference room.
“Morning Maggie,” I say as I blow past her sitting behind the reception desk.
“Hey, Kristin,” she says and trails off when I don’t stop to chat. Normally I would’ve stopped, but unfortunately for her I’m late. Really late, now.
The conference room is buzzing with conversation and I notice immediately that my boss, Ellie, is absent from the overly large table. But my partners in crime are there, staring at me from their chairs awaiting the coffee that is now ridiculously late. I lean down and peck both of them on the cheeks as I hand off their coffee.
“Good morning.” I smile and flop down next to them. I suck down the rest of the chocolate shake, which is now just chocolate milk, totally proving my previous point.
“Why the hell are you so late and on your day to pick up coffee?” Melinda asks.
“I overslept and then I got caught in traffic.” I roll my eyes trying to force my story home. It’s only a partial omission of the truth.
“Whatever,” she says rolling her eyes back at me before taking a long drink of her coffee. Before she can speak again Bob jumps in with his two cents.
“You did not oversleep,” he accuses with such force I want to defend my lie entirely. “You never oversleep. In the six years I have known you, you have never once overslept. If by “overslept” you mean you were shacking up with Ben, then that I believe.” He glances at Melinda and I know the two of them are about to gang up on me.
“Agreed. Why can’t you just admit that’s what you’re doing? We don’t care, well I think Bob cares because he secretly hoped Ben was gay, but other than that we don’t care.” Bob laughs at this statement and shrugs his shoulders. We all know it to be true, Bob has a huge crush on Ben.
My BlackBerry vibrates on the table and silences them for a few seconds. It’s a text from Ben.
Ben: Have a great day at work. I miss you already and you’re right...My boss is an *. Working too hard already. Shoulda called in sick.
I beam and text him back quickly.
Me: At least your boss is hot as hell. Mine is a menopausal control freak. Miss you, too. See you tonight.
When I finish they are both staring at me with intent and even though I love them both dearly I don’t want an early morning lecture regarding my sex life.
I met Melinda and Bob when we were all hired six years ago to comprise a new public relations team at Ellie Regan P.R. We became inseparable, all of us having nothing better to do than throw ourselves into our entry-level jobs, booze it up after work and enjoy each other’s company. They are my family and we tease and torment, laugh and cry, love and hate each other with such potency it’s no wonder everyone else in the office avoids us. Both Melinda and Bob are Southern California natives and they pretty much embody everything you imagine that to be. If I met either of them on the street I probably wouldn’t even consider talking to them. They are completely out of my realm of reality, but that’s what makes our friendship so bonded, so different.
Melinda is the epitome of a California girl. She’s from Laguna Beach. Her family, so wealthy that I can’t even begin to fathom the amount of money, yet she sits next to me at our monetarily amazing job that doesn’t even cover the rent on her Los Angeles high rise penthouse. She is overly blonde, overly skinny, overly tanned, always over the top. Her boobs are fake, along with her nose and excessively plumped lips. She bears an uncanny resemblance to a Barbie. She is manicured, pedicured, bleached and waxed on a regular schedule. She is the total opposite of me. The first day we met she ran her index finger down the length of my nose, taking me by surprise. “Oh my God! I wish I had known you when I got my nose done. Yours is so perfect and cute. Damn it!” Those were the first words she said to me and to this day she still stands by them. In spite of all of these things, she’s caring and kind, but when crossed or backed into a corner she can turn on you rather quickly. And something no one would know by her outward appearance, she will always be the smartest person in the room. When I say smart, I mean crazy smart, like solving-quadratic-equations-long-division-in-your-head-knows-every-U.S.-President-in-order smart, which sometimes leads to a battle of wits with anyone who is willing to challenge her. But she can play dumb to beat the band. I adore her.
Then there’s Bob. The only man I know who can make premature gray look as sexy as George Clooney. It suits him at twenty-nine years old, along with his strategically grown stubbly beard and fitted designer suits. He’s tall and thin, but muscular, a natural runway model and a total disappointment to women. Melinda and I love to watch the faces of women when they realize he’s gay. All he has to do is utter a few simple words and their smiles drop away, along with all their hopes and dreams of finding the ideal man. In my eyes he is the ideal man. He wants nothing from me except friendship and he loves me regardless of my mass of faults. He’s funny, crass and vulgar. Bob is everything to me, a father, a brother, a best friend and he makes me feel safe. He can throw a punch better than any straight man I know. I witnessed him knock out a guy twice his size at a club one night, because the guy got a bit too fresh for Melinda’s liking. He’d do anything for the two of us and we feel the same.