Girl Crush(11)

Trish and I had a love-hate relationship. Mostly, she just loved to hate me because she believed I caused every one of her fights with Veronica. Somehow, I swiped V’s credit card for that six-hundred-dollar pair of shoes. And it was me who had her flirting with the bartender at The Watering Hole to get free drinks. And I was the cause of Ronnie always breaking curfew. Well, that last one was me—but that wasn’t the point. I was here before Trish, and I’d be here after. And I was almost certain there would be an after. So I opted to ignore her tirades and pretended they were shouts of love…for me. I’d bought her a cheerleader costume for Christmas one year—she didn’t get the insinuation…or insult, and I didn’t give a shit.

Ronnie and I were wild cards. We had been since birth. It’s what made us the dynamic duo we’d become known for. Our reputation reached far and wide. Well, at least in this county, because we’d both been here our entire lives.

“So, Roxie?”

We were standing outside in the parking lot. All the employees had gone home, and we hung out under the one light still on overhead. It dawned on me this might not be the safest place for us to congregate, but I also knew once Ronnie left, she might be on lockdown for a couple days. It was tough to be single in a life filled with couples.

“Yeah. I don’t know. We’ll see. She seems nice enough. And girls seem to really dig this whole na?ve gig I have going. Maybe it’s the intrigue of innocence. Who would have thought women in their thirties would want to teach an old dog new tricks?”

“Meh. I can see its merit. If I didn’t have Trish, I wouldn’t mind taking a newbie and teaching her what I liked and how I liked it. But women new to the lifestyle are a risk to those of us who truly are lesbians.” She said the last three words like they held weight.

“You’re not better than me just because you’ve been gay longer.”

“No, I’m better than you because I am gay. You’re just a poser.”

“My coming to the realization later in life doesn’t make you any more gay than I am.”

“Yes, it absolutely does…because you don’t realize you’re gay, Gizzy. You like dick. Lots of it. What you don’t like are the assholes attached to the pole. But you very much like penis.”

“Po-tay-toe, po-tot-toe. The fact is they come as a package. And without a muzzle, I can’t deal anymore. I’ll learn to love snatch. Plus, there’s always strap-ons.”

She brushed me off and changed the subject. “So you’ll call me to let me know how things go with Roxie?”

“Sure, but I have coffee with Beck first. You interested in the details of that soiree, too?”

“Nope. Beck is a done deal. Move on.”

I hugged my friend and then we both got into our respective cars. When I pulled my phone from the cup holder to check my messages, I retrieved five missed texts from none other than Beck herself.

Instead of texting her back, I opted to call and drive at the same time.

She answered on the first ring. In tears. “Hello?” She sounded pitiful. My guess was she’d had a run-in with her asshole brother. Maybe now she’d understand my reason for ditching men.

“Hey, Beck. What’s wrong?”

“Can you come over?”

I glanced at the clock. It was midnight, and I had to be at work at nine in the morning, but my alarm clock would go off at six to run the daily five miles. I could skip my morning stop at Starbucks on my way into the office and get an extra thirty minutes of sleep. “Yeah, I can stop by. I’m down off Fifth Street, so it’ll take me about ten minutes to get there. Are you all right?”

“I just need someone to talk to.” She sniffled into the receiver as if to make her point more valid. I’d already agreed to come; she didn’t have to slather on the pity party.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

Ten minutes later, I pulled in behind the same red Porsche I’d ogled the last time I was here. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. This guy must be a real tool if he made his sister cry. When I got out of the car, I glanced down at my skintight, gray Army T-shirt, boyfriend jeans that hung on my hips, and black Chucks. My hair was in a messy bun, and I had forgone freshening my makeup after work since I was just meeting Ronnie. Oh well, I guessed she was going to see it sooner or later. I can’t be on all the time…and I’d seen her ass stuck to a couch…literally. I’d say we were even.

When I knocked, I was shocked to see the same guy I’d met in the driveway greeting me at the door. My back stiffened, preparing for his attack, but instead, the same mint-green eyes I’d admired on his sister softened, and his shoulders slumped. “Thank God. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.” He opened the door and gestured me in.

“Everything okay?”

“Fuck no. Bitches are bad enough when they’re with men. Couple them with another woman, and it’s emotional overload of the worst kind. She’s upstairs.”

When I didn’t move, he stared at me for a split second too long. He clearly didn’t understand I didn’t know where “upstairs” was. But before I could point that out, his eyes stared into mine and then slowly caressed my body from tip to toe, lingering on my breasts before he admired my legs, and then returned to my face.

I cocked my head as though to ask if he’d just checked me out and furrowed my brow playfully. With squinted lids, I acknowledged the gesture without verbalizing it. “Mind telling me where ‘upstairs’ would be? This place is rather large, and we didn’t make it past the living room when I was here last.”