When Stars Collide

by Sara Furlong-Burr

  “Coincidentally, though, what I really wanted to talk to you about does involve Violet.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Keep in mind, she isn’t a doctor or anything, so don’t freak out.”

  “Why would I freak out?”

  “Violet works for a dermatologist, and she said she saw something—a mole, I guess—that concerned her on your lower back.”

  “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Clover was checking out my ass while we were trying on dresses.”

  Elle rolled her eyes. “Just promise me you’ll get it looked at. She’s seen a lot of really nasty lesions in her day, and she didn’t like the look of yours.”

  “If it pleases the bride, I will acquiesce.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. Violet would have told you herself, but I think she’s intimidated by you. Plus, she barely knows you.”

  “It’s nice to hear the resting bitch face I’ve spent the better part of my life perfecting is doing its job.”

  “I’ll let you go. See you soon?”

  “As soon as I can.”

  *****

  I heard the commotion even before the elevator reached the floor to our apartment. A banging sound accompanied by one of the shrillest voices I’d heard in a long time.

  “I know you’re in there! Open the door!”

  Please don’t let this involve Jo.

  “You can’t keep ignoring me forever, Jo!”

  Shit.

  “Unfortunately, she can, and she will,” I answered, startling the tall, busty woman beating down our door before me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get into my apartment.”

  “Oh, so are you the reason why she never called me back? You know, I wouldn’t have taken you to be Jo’s type. She told me she likes her women on the leggier side.”

  “Since I see you’re into making passive aggressive commentary, Jo also prefers her conquests to have more going on in the tit department, which, as you can see, I’m also lacking. But that’s okay, because Jo is also lacking a certain appendage I like, which is kind of a deal breaker for me.” I turned the key and opened the door to our apartment, stealing a glance back at the bewildered woman. “Spoiler alert, it’s a penis.”

  “You must be Jo’s roommate, then.”

  “And you must be one of the more perceptive ones Jo has brought home.”

  The shame featured on the woman’s face told me that her being here, begging for the attention of a one-night stand, was out of character for her. In an instant, any contempt I may have felt for her was gone, and I felt myself soften a little, a feeling that was a little foreign to me, if I’m being honest.

  “Come on.” I motioned inside the door with my head.

  “Thank you.” She followed me through the door. “This isn’t me—the clingy, crazy hookup that won’t let go. It’s just the things she said to me, the time we shared together, I thought she was different. And to find out she’s not is really making me question my judgment.”

  “Yep, Jo has that effect on people.” I reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, offering one to the woman. She shook her head, uninterested. “Look, Jo isn’t a bad person, she’s just not a great girlfriend. She’s indecisive, erratic, and … well, young. She doesn’t know what she wants out of life yet. But when she finally figures it out, I have no doubt she’ll be everything you saw in her that night.”

  “I just hope I’m here to see it.”

  “I hope so, too.” I raised an eyebrow, gesturing to her.

  “Madison,” she responded.

  “Madison,” I repeated, the name sounding familiar to me. “Oh, hey,” I snatched the pink blouse from the stool on which it had been resting since the day I came home and found it on the floor, “is this yours?”

  “Oh my gosh, I didn’t think I would ever get this back.” Madison took the blouse, a giddiness coming to life in her personality. “This is my absolute favorite top, and to be honest, part of the reason why I came here.”

  “I don’t blame you. I was going to hold on to it with the hope that one day my boobs would grow in and I could wear it myself.”

  She smiled. “You’re a good person.” She emulated the gesture I had done just moments ago.

  “Mena.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Well, Mena, I can see why Jo thinks so highly of you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m pretty great. Hey, speaking of Jo, you wouldn’t by chance still have her hoodie you wore home that day, would you?”

  “Yup, I still have it. She’s just not getting it back until she returns my texts.”

  “I respect the way you operate, Madison.”

  *****

  Madison had long since vacated our apartment by the time Jo arrived home.

  “Days like today are why alcohol was invented,” she said, making a beeline to the refrigerator, where she grabbed a beer and then joined me on the couch.

  “If you would have been here two hours ago, you’d be drinking something harder than that.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. The thing about Jo was that I could always tell when her wheels were spinning. In that moment, the hamster was running at full speed.

  “Do tell,” she spoke with a fair amount of caution in her voice.

  “Let’s just say I had the privilege of meeting Madison in person.”

  Jo scrunched her face, her eyebrows furrowed. “Madison, Madison, Madi—”

  “Pink blouse girl.”

  “Oh! Madison, yes. I called her all kinds of things that night, but Madison wasn’t one of them.”

  “How do you sleep at night?”

  “With both eyes closed.”

  I shook my head. “I returned her blouse to her.”

  “Did you get my hoodie back?”

  “She said she would return it to you when you text her back.”

  “Why did you give her the blouse back, then?”

  “Because I’m an adult, Jo.”

  “Well, life certainly is a bitch today.” Jo lobbed my pillow at me, which I deflected with my arm.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. Madison seems nice enough. She only showed me a hint of crazy, far less than the national average.”

  Jo shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not looking for anything right now. And neither was she, or so I thought.” She took a swig from the bottle. “One-night stands are rarely ever meant to be long-term commitments.”

  I thought back to the first time Peter and I slept together. We’d never discussed what would happen afterwards, it just worked out as naturally as the sun rises and sets.

  “Do you want to go out?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Out. Like to a bar. This cheap beer isn’t quite doing this day the justice it deserves.”

  I’d only been out with Jo one other time, shortly after she moved into my apartment after answering my ad for a roommate. Out of the dozen or so who’d applied, she’d pretty much been the only one who I was certain I wouldn’t have to worry about murdering me in my sleep—if that tells you anything about the types of applicants I received. After moving in, Jo decided it would be a good idea to get to know each other better and insisted that a bar setting was the best possible place for that to happen. At the end of the night, I’d learned exactly two things about Jo: she could out drink most of the men I knew, and she could Exorcist-style projectile vomit.

  “Come on. I promise I won’t drink … a lot.”

  “Famous last words, Linda Blair.”

  Jo stuck out her bottom lip and looked at me with eyes as big as saucers. Back in the day, when she was a cute kid, I’d wager that look had gotten her just about anything she’d wanted.

  “Uh, fine,” I relented, much to Jo’s delight. “But if you hurl on a complete stranger again, I’m not going to stick around to bail you out.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  About six months ago, I bought a dress on a whim with the thoug
ht that I would break it out for a special occasion sometime during the summer. Summer had come and gone, and the tags remained on my cherry red sheath dress. Well, I suppose it was time to pop this cherry. I pulled the dress over my head, admiring how it hugged every curve of my body, actually making me look like I had a shape. Most of the other dresses I owned said, “Screw it,” and hung on me like a curtain from a rod.

  Just wait until Peter sees me in this.

  At that moment, my phone rang from where it rested on my bed. Peering at the screen, I smiled when I saw it was him.

  “I was just thinking about you,” I answered.

  “Oh. How so?” Peter asked.

  “I’m getting ready to go out with Jo tonight, and I’m wearing this dress I think you just may be able to appreciate.”

  “You’re going out with Jo right now?” he asked, more subdued than normal.

  “Yeah, she’s had a day, and all but begged me to come with her, but I can talk.”

  “No, no, have fun. We can talk when you get home.”

  “Is everything okay? You don’t sound like you. It’s like someone poked you with a pin and you’re beginning to slowly deflate.”

  “I’m okay, Mena. I just … we can talk later.”

  “Look, Peter, if you don’t tell me, I’ll only worry.”

  “I’m not going to be able to come to New York next week.”

  “Okay. Are you worried I’m going to be angry? Because I’m not. How can I be when I had to work while you were here last month?”

  “No, I know you’re pretty understanding … most of the time. We’ll talk more tonight.”

  “Is Jackson okay?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, he’s good. Just have fun tonight. Give Jo my regards, and we’ll talk later.”

  I sat on my bed after hanging up with Peter, a sense of dread hanging over my head no matter how hard I tried to push it away. One of Peter’s best traits was that he always said what was on his mind. There were no secrets with him—no mysteries. Everything was very straightforward, very black and white. For the first time in our relationship, he’d shown me shades of gray without all the fun bondage.

  “Are we leaving tonight or tomorrow morning?” Jo asked, ignoring all decorum as she threw open the door to my room. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Jesus Christ.”

  “I suppose if you’re going for a look, you can’t beat the Son of God.”

  “If I hadn’t been certain that I was a lesbian before, I sure as shit know it now.”

  *****

  From the moment we stepped foot inside Club One-Eighty, I was reminded of why I’d given up the clubbing scene years ago: People. So. Many. People. People near and far; people at the bar. People dancing on tables; people telling fables. People sipping a drink; people puking in the sink. People everywhere.

  Eat your goddamn heart out, Dr. Seuss.

  As soon as Jo entered the building, her hips began gyrating to the music as though programmed to do so by the powers that be at the club.

  “Isn’t this great?” she asked, dancing in the hope that everybody was watching.

  “Sure, if a horde of sweaty strangers grinding their clammy bodies against yours is your thing.

  “Sounds exactly like my dream from last night, actually.” Jo smiled, grabbing me by the arm. She pulled me into her, spinning me and then bringing me down for such a pronounced dip that, any lower, my hair would have come dangerously close to brushing against the floor. “Since I know this is the last place in the world you want to be right now, let me buy you a drink to make it up to you.”

  “First, believe it or not, this isn’t the last place I want to be. That distinguished honor goes out to my parents’ house. Secondly, there was no way you weren’t going to buy me a drink for dragging me here with you tonight.”

  Jo nodded “That’s exactly what I thought you’d say. Your first rum and Coke is on me. Any subsequent ones after that are going to have to be bought by some other poor schlub.”

  “Make that a gin and tonic, and I am more than capable of buying my own drinks from here on out.”

  “Oh, gin and tonic. I’ve never seen this side of you,” Jo teased me. “Club One-Eighty has already been a bad influence.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, less talky, more drinky.” I held out my hand, flicking my fingers in the direction of the bar as I made my way to what had to be the only unoccupied table in the entire place; a high top with equally as high chairs that, for a woman of average height, wouldn’t have been a huge deal. But for someone like me, in heels, it felt like I was scaling Mount Everest just to have a place to sit down.

  After a few minutes of allowing the ambience of the place to penetrate my soul, I had to admit, it wasn’t as bad as my initial assessment had led me to believe it would be, and I noticed myself beginning to sing along to the songs that were being played on full blast right along with everyone else.

  “Ha,” Jo said, returning with my gin and tonic, “I knew you could use a night out. I swear, you get your hackles up for nothing.”

  “My hackles have served me well over the years by keeping me away from very awkward social situations.”

  “If you say so.” Jo surveyed the dance floor, and I watched as her gaze landed on a cute brunette in a tube top.

  “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to hang around me all night. I’m a big girl with an Uber account.”

  Jo smiled. “That’s why you’re my favorite roommate.”

  “That’s why I’m your only roommate.”

  She chugged down the rest of her drink and plunked the glass down on the table. “Wish me luck.”

  “Go get her, tiger.”

  Jo didn’t need any well wishes from me. She had it in the bag. Between her natural charisma, quirky beauty, and unflappable confidence, other women had a way of giving into her. If only she would use her powers for good instead of evil, she could go far in life. Jo approached the girl in the tube top, sliding in beside her. At first, she seemed oblivious to Jo’s advances, but then Jo whispered something in her ear and her indifference melted away. She turned to face Jo, her arm sliding around her waist. Jo looked up, offering me a mental high-five.

  If you can’t beat them.

  In not quite as smooth a fashion as Jo, I chugged the rest of my drink, coughing as I set the glass down on the table. The music being played throughout the club consisted of a techno remix of what was otherwise a slow song, perfect for the venue and for those with any semblance if rhythm. I was not one of those people, but I could fake it. With what little movement my dress would allow, I pulled from memory the moves I used in my early twenties, mainly consisting of swaying my hips and legs to the beat of the music while moving my top half just enough to keep myself from looking too awkward. Of course, I’d never really broken out any dance moves while sober before, so in reality, I wasn’t entirely sure what my moves really looked like, nor did I particularly care.

  A few minutes into it, I’d managed to work up a pretty decent sweat, lost in the sea of bodies swirling around me. Strangely, it was kind of cathartic, allowing myself to move as freely as I pleased without a care in the world, like I was purging my body of all worries. Unfortunately, though, as with all good things, some douchebag had to come along and ruin it all.

  He came up from behind me, his body only lightly grazing mine at first, until said graze turned into a full-on ass grab.

  “If I wanted your hand on my ass, I would have put it there,” I said over my shoulder to the muscular, Abercrombie-wannabe model standing behind me.

  “Oh, come on, baby, that dress is giving me all the permission I need.”

  “Touch me again, and you’ll be giving my knee permission to ram itself straight into your crotch.”

  “Feisty. I like that.” Before I could stop him, Mr. Popped Collar grabbed me tightly, his sheer size rendering me powerless against him while one of his hands made its way down my body to my hip. “You have some moves there. How about you show me what e
lse you can do?” He smashed his pelvis against my body when he spoke, igniting a mixture of fear and absolute rage inside of me.

  “Let me go!” I struggled until I was able to free my arms enough to try to push him away from me. Except, shoving him was like trying to move a brick wall. He stood steadfast, and the best I could do was jar him enough for him to loosen his grip on me. “Son of a bitch. What is wrong with you?”

  It quickly became apparent that had been the wrong thing to say to him, because as soon as his thick skull processed it, some internal switch flipped inside of his brain, changing his demeanor from an aggressive but playful Neanderthal, to an aggressive and psychotic one.

  “What did you say to me, bitch?” His lightning-fast hand darted out and grabbed me by the forearm. Large enough for his fingers to completely wrap themselves around my arm, his hand was like a vice. He must have realized that, too, as he began squeezing my arm with such force that I thought he may succeed in snapping it in two.

  “Let me go, you’re hurting me.”

  “Not until you give me that dance I asked you for.”

  “The lady said to let her go, so I think you’d better do what she asked you.”

  Phineas?

  I looked behind my shoulder, where my eyes met those of Phineas’s, who’d appeared from out of nowhere. He held out his hand to me, and I took it with a grateful smile, believing that would be the end of everything. Unfortunately, I was sorely mistaken.

  When finding himself on the losing end, the middle figure on the human evolutionary chart thought it wise to make one last ditch effort to assert himself by grabbing me by my other arm. “No one asked you for your opinion,” he growled at Phineas.

  The moment my assailant’s hand grabbed my arm again, Phineas’s demeanor completely changed. His eyes grew dark, his brow furrowed. He even seemed to stand taller, which was pretty impressive considering he was already taller than most of the other men in the club. In short, something told me there would be fireworks in a matter of seconds.