2) Because I will die if I have to look Alex in the eye right now.
I try to decide how best to handle this. I can’t believe he saw my dainty lady bits from under the table and I am absolutely mortified. Alex is going to think that I’m a flipping freak. And I can’t believe that he even said anything! But to be fair, I did tell him that I never get offended. And that’s partially true.
I’m not offended.
I’m humiliated. And there is a difference.
Good Lord.
I re-position myself in my seat trying to stay off of said dainty lady bits. I do a quick search online to see when I can expect the pain to subside. Most articles say that the pain should’ve decreased after the first night.
Wrong.
I cringe as I move.
This is horrible.
Absolutely freaking horrible. And it is the last time I listen to Sara. Ever.
My pity-party is interrupted by Taylor knocking softly on my door.
“Hey, boss,” she says, coming in before I tell her to. “This was just delivered for you. It says private, so I didn’t open it.”
She’s holding a little box with a card. She’s clearly curious. As am I.
I take it from her and start to open the card before I realize that she’s waiting to see what it is. I raise an eyebrow.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“Oh, no problem,” she answers. She stays put, still waiting.
“That will be all,” I say, hinting again .
She looks at me.
“Oh!” her eyes widen. “Okay.”
She turns around and walks out with a bewildered look on her face. I can understand her confusion. She has practically shared every part of my life since she came here. She takes care of my calendar (including doctor’s appointments), and opens all of my mail, including the court papers from the divorce. There has never been anything marked ‘Private’ before. She’s dying to know what it is. And I am too.
I open the card. Bold handwriting is scrawled across a linen card.
Alli Cat,
You said that you weren’t sure what you wanted. So I decided that you need to connect with your inner Freak. You need to let loose every once in a while. It’s fun. And it’s good for you.
Wear this on your date tomorrow night. I will have the remote control with me. Text me where you will be. I’ll be there too.
XX,
Shade
I am instantly nervous as I open the little white box. As well I should be.
A long silver egg slides out from the tissue and into my fingers. It is cool to the touch and heavy. I stare at it for a moment before I realize what it is.
It’s a vibrator. And it’s meant to be worn internally.
Oh, sweet Mary.
I’m shaking my head as though Shade were here with me right now. I’m not wearing this. I’m not doing it.
My phone buzzes.
Have you received my gift?
Shade.
I practically pant now. Both from the gift and from the idea that Shade sent it and expects me to use it.
Yes. I text back. And there’s no way in hell.
There is a pause. Then a reply.
You’ll do it. Because you’re daring and fun.
I pause.
Am I? Daring and fun?
Maybe once upon a time, back before Rick the Dick. But being married to him sucked all of the fun out of life. And out of me.
But you’re not married to him anymore, I remind myself. Shit. Do I really need to do this to prove that I’m still daring and fun? I mean, I already got a Brazilian wax and had sex with a gigolo. But honestly, in the face of those things, this is a small little thing. Right? It’s just a tiny little vibrator. How much of an impact could it possibly make?
I sigh.
Fine. I reply. I’ll do it. I’ll text you the info later.
Think about me this afternoon, he answers.
I shake my head and put my phone away. I can’t carry on like this at work. I need to concentrate.
Right after I go to the bathroom and rub a piece of ice on my crotch.
By afternoon, and three pieces of ice later, Bald Brazilian (whom I have affectionately dubbed, BB) is feeling surprisingly better. Apparently the websites that said that the pain should subside within twenty-four hours were right. It doesn’t make me less irritated with Sara, but still. It feels good to walk normally and in an upright position again.
Brian, however, is acting strange around me, which is precisely why I didn’t want to date someone from work in the first place. And I realize, too, that I haven’t gotten to the bottom of how Sara talked him into asking me out.
So I take a little trip to his office, which just so happens to be located on the second floor in Accounting. Like me, he is an Executive Director and has a corner office.
When I walk in, he is sitting with his head buried in a spreadsheet. I sigh.
This is one of the reasons why I know that he and I would never click. He’s a numbers guy. I’m a creative girl. I interact with him when I need to get his input on numbers for my projects, but other than that, we don’t even move in the same circles. We don’t think the same way. Plus, he’s got a little coffee stain on his chest.
And yes, I’m a bitch today. But I knew that I would be going into the day. And that probably means that I should call my vagina Bald Bitch, instead. It’s ever so much more fitting. Plus, I like it. It makes me feel spunky.
BB and I sit down and I have a little chat with Brian, who is boring, but still nice. I insist that there’s no reason to act strangely, that we’re just going to dinner as friends. He smiles and acts relieved and then admits that I intimidate him.
“I intimidate you?” I repeat, staring at him in confusion. “Then why in the world would you ask me out?” I pause, then smile. “I forgot. My friend Sara got to you. Tell me, Brian. How exactly did she do that?”
“She friended me online,” Brian admits, somewhat sheepishly. “She’s very nice.”
“Oh, she certainly is,” I agree. “Especially when she wants something.”
“She said that she just wants you to get out more,” Brainy Brian shrugs, smiling his limp smile. “She’s worried about you.”
I stare at him. Then count to three. “Well, there’s no need, is there? You and I are going to dinner tomorrow night. And I’m fine. And I’m looking forward to dinner, by the way. Where would you like to go?”
He looks blank. “I’m not sure,” he answers. “What do you like?”
I sigh. I think Shade was right about me. I would really like to date someone who will take charge for a while. I’m sick of having to make all of the decisions, even about something so small as a restaurant.
“How about Manini’s on twenty-first street?” I suggest. “I love Italian.”
“I do, too,” Brian says. His face is contorted in a weird way and I can’t really tell if he’s smiling or grimacing. I choose to believe that it’s a grin. “6:00?”
“That’s perfect,” I tell him, still staring at him, trying to decide. “I’ll just meet you there since I have to be somewhere later that evening.”
I leave Brian to his number-crunching.
And by now, now that she isn’t on fire anymore, I’m starting to enjoy the smooth feeling of BB when I walk. There might be something to this whole Brazilian thing. I feel sexy as hell knowing that I am completely hairless.
I’m a freaking vixen.
********
I’m a freaking vixen who managed to stay clear of my new boss for the rest of the day.
I am commending myself on that feat as I sit outdoors on my patio waiting for Sara to arrive. I’ve got four bottles of red Moscato chilling in my fridge at this very moment and I am also making a mental note to buy a wine fridge at my earliest opportunity. It’s a necessity in life, really. It’s a need, not a want.
I need the option of having multiple bottles of wine pre-chilled at any given opportunity for ni
ghts just like this. And again, that’s a need and not a want. Obviously.
I lie back in the pool lounger and stare up at the dark sky and the glittering white stars. I stare around the tiled pool, at the silent ripples on the water, at the waterfall that feeds into the pool, at the hot-tub that sits slightly above the pool.
Hot tub.
My thoughts freeze, refusing to take another step past the hot tub.
After my day, I obviously deserve to sit in the hot tub. I quickly decide that BB has healed enough that the hot water won’t hurt. I also, in my slightly inebriated state, decide that I’m too lazy to make the short walk into my house for a bathing suit. I glance around briefly, deciding that the three foot tall fence provides enough privacy and step out of my clothing.
I leave them in a puddle by my chair and walk buck-ass naked across the stone tiles toward the hot tub. I take a bottle of wine and my glass…the important things. I will worry about unimportant things, like towels, later.
I turn the hot tub on and step in, and the hot water bubbles up and around me, soothing my stress and worry away. The heat doesn’t hurt BB at all, which she silently thanks me for.
I am chin-deep in the water when I hear Sara calling for me.
I poke my head up and wave her over.
“I didn’t bring my suit,” she tells me, standing above me.
“You don’t need one,” I tell her. “It’s only you and me. I’ve seen you naked a hundred times before.” My thoughts are only a bit blurry now after one bottle of wine.
“No?” Sara raises one thin eyebrow. “Two naked women in one hot-tub? What will your neighbors think?”
She obviously doesn’t care since she is already stripping off her clothes.
“Well, Mr. Darnell will think that he has won Lady Luck’s lottery,” I tell her with a grin. “He’s always watching Sophie and me when we swim. Perv.”
“Speaking of Sophie, where is she?” Sara asks as she settles into the water, across from me. She props one leg up next to me as she sips her wine. I almost tell her that she needs to shave her legs, but decide against it. She might decide that we’ll start getting our legs waxed too, which is insanity.
“At Hayley’s house,” I answer instead, moving away from the stubble on her legs so it doesn’t cut me wide open. “They’re studying and then she’s just going to stay the night. I’m free for the night. I just might sleep out here. Naked.”
Sara stares at me again.
“Holy shit. What have I done to you? Are you becoming wild? If so, my work here is done.” She makes the sign of the cross on her chest, like she is blessing this event. I roll my eyes.
“Be careful. Your fingers might burst into flame doing that,” I smile sweetly before continuing. “After the events of this past week, I’ve decided that for once, you are right. I’ve been too uptight for the past…all of my life. I’m going to start not giving a flying eff.”
Sara stares at me now. “I think I’m in love with you, girl. Don’t marry someone else. After you sow your wild oats, you can marry me.”
She laughs, tinkling and loud. I laugh too and fill our wine glasses up. “Nope, can’t. I don’t like tacos. Remember?”
Sara laughs. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. Details.”
Somehow, the next hour passes with lightning speed. During four bottles of wine, I tell Sara all about Shade’s little gift, the way Alex had seen my bare crotch, the fact that Alex is strikingly, breathtakingly sexy and the fact that I’m still pissed at her for having Brian ask me out.
“I forgot about being mad at you,” I growl, furrowing my eyebrows. Or I think I furrow them. I’ve had enough wine that my nose and forehead are sort of numb.
“Oh, whatever,” Sara waves my concern away. “You know you’ll get over it. Because you know that I’m right. You’re going to need practice if you’re going to date your boss. That’s a big step—and it takes skill.”
I freeze, staring at her.
“Sara, I am not dating my boss. Not. Gonna. Happen. Please hear me, and don’t do anything AT ALL, to try and arrange something like that, okay? I’ve worked very hard to get to where I’m at. I’m a single woman now- on my own. I can’t jeopardize my career simply because the man sets my loins on fire.”
I giggle because I use the word ‘loins’. And then I glare at her again .
“I’m serious, Sara. I need you to promise me that you won’t interfere.”
She rolls her eyes. “As if I’d interfere,” she croons, stroking my arm. I glare again.
“I mean it.”
“Fine,” she says, seemingly wounded as she sits back in her seat. “But you underestimate my powers of finesse. I am amazingly subtle.”
“Whatever,” I roll my eyes again. “You’re subtle like an eighteen-wheeler.”
At this juncture, my cell phone chooses to ring. I eye the long walk to the table where I left it with my clothes. And I decide that it just isn’t worth it.
I take another drink of wine.
And then my phone rings again.
Crap.
“It could be Sophie,” I mutter, climbing naked out of my hot-tub and jogging to get it. Unfortunately for me, it’s not.
“Alli?”
It’s Rick the freaking Dick. I got out of the hot tub for this?
“We need to talk. Vanessa and I are getting married in June. We set the date yesterday. She called Sophie a little bit ago and asked Sophie to be a bridesmaid and your daughter screamed at her. And then hung up on her. You need to talk to her.”
“To Vanessa?” I’m confused. It might be the effects of the wine. I’m not sure. And it might also be the effects of the wine, but a little part of me is shocked and somewhat sad that Rick has already set a date. I don’t want him- that much is certain, but to know that he would rush out so quickly and get re-married, it’s a little hurtful. Like I didn’t matter at all.
“No, Allison,” Rick sighs. “To Sophie. You need to explain to her that it is important that she participate in my wedding.”
And I’m done feeling hurt. It was a short-lived excursion from reality, anyway.
“What? I’m not talking to Sophie about this. If you want her in your wedding, you can pick up the phone and call your daughter yourself. Stop letting the women in your life take care of everything. She’s your daughter—you need a relationship with her. And that includes talking to her.”
“Why do you have to be such a bitch, Allison?” Rick snaps. “I’m just asking for a little help. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, considering that I haven’t filed a lawsuit after you tried to run over my fiancée.”
And now I’m pissed. I step back into the hot-tub since I’m shivering.
“Are you insane? I’m being a bitch? And you really feel like you could have filed a lawsuit? If that’s really what you want to do, do it!” I snap. “I don’t need you thinking that you did me a favor by not. Your lawyer already tried to contact me about this anyway.”
“I told him to back off,” Rick says. “But I could just as easily call him back and tell him to proceed.”
I’m sputtering, trying to decide what to say when Sara butts in.
“Give me the phone,” she slurs. I yank away, but she manages to get my phone first.
“Listen, you small-dicked asshole. You deserve to marry a gold-digging whore. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that Sophie is nowhere near your wedding. And your twig-legged little bitch could have dented Alli’s car. She should sue you for that.” Small pause. “Hell, yes, this is Sara! Who the fuck else would it be? Do not call Alli again with this kind of bull-shit.”
I try to grab the phone away from her and she wrenches away.
“I mean it, Rick. She doesn’t answer to you. And she doesn’t have to help you anymore. Handle your own shit.”
And she hangs up on him. She lays my phone on the tiles and turns to me.
“Don’t let him talk to you like that anymore,” she instructs me. “He doesn’
t have the right.”
I’m staring at her speechless when my phone rings again.
Fire flares up in Sara’s eyes and she yanks my phone to her ear.
“You want more, Tiny Dick? Leave her alone. Only contact her through a lawyer from now on. She’s SO over you- she doesn’t even want to hear your voice. In fact, she’s so over you that she’s dating again, too. For your info, her new boss is sexy and fabulous and fucking rich. You’ll never be able to compare.”
Pause.
Another pause.
Sara’s eyes widen and she hands me the phone. She is speechless which is terrifying, in itself. I look at her questioningly as I lift the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Allison?”
Oh, holy shit. I want to effing die.
It’s Alex.
It’s time to hyperventilate.
Chapter Eleven
(Or: A Woman can’t survive on Embarrassment Alone)
“Um. Hi, Alex.”
“Hi, Allison.” My new boss sounds unsure of himself and I’m not sure what to say.
“Tell him your friend is insane!” Sara screeches into my ear.
I wave her away.
“I’m sorry about that,” I tell him as calmly as I can. “My friend and I are having wine, probably too much of it, and my ex-husband called a minute ago. My friend was worked up and obviously when you called, she thought it was him calling back. I’m so sorry about the confusion.”
I think I pull it off. I sound cool and confident.
Alex laughs, a buttery-rich sound in my ear.
“It’s okay. I’ve been around wine and women before. I get it. And I’m glad I can be of assistance with your ex-husband. He’s apparently quite the treat.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get fired over this.
“I’m sorry to call you so late, anyway,” he continues. “I was just thinking about what I said to you earlier after your staff meeting and I decided that it was inappropriate and wanted to apologize. I sincerely hope that I didn’t offend you. But now I’m thinking that since your friend called me a Tiny Dick, we might be even.”
Confessions of an Alli Cat Page 9