by Amanda Aksel
A woman pops in next to me, and I almost don’t recognize her in the muted light. But when her cell phone illuminates the freckles on her face, I know exactly who she is.
“Shannon?”
I don’t see the girl for months and now she’s everywhere. Did Regina invite her?
She looks up and it takes her a second before her eyes light up with recognition. “Well, look who it is. Twice in one day. You’re not stalking me, are you?” Her tone isn’t as friendly as at our first run-in.
“No, I’m just having drinks with some people from work. You?” I ask, glancing around for Regina.
“Same. Just blowing off some steam.”
“Hard day at the office?”
She gulps back the rest of her drink and glares at me. “Why? Because my job’s too hard for me?”
Damn, she is not a fan of Richard right now. “Is this about what I said earlier?”
“Nah.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I just love when men I hardly know question my ability to do my job.”
“You’re right.” I raise my hands in surrender. “I’m sure you get a lot of unnecessary shit, and it isn’t fair. But I really wasn’t trying to imply anything. I’m sorry that it came out that way.”
Her harsh expression softens a little as she circles the tiny black straw in her glass. “So then it’s a programmed, Pavlovian response? Just one of those stereotypical things that seeps into our subconscious and rears its ugly head at the worst moment?”
“I don’t know.” I’d never thought about it that way. Maybe the sexism in our industry is more of a conditioned response than a deliberate one. Not that it makes it any better.
“Sometimes I think the Wall Street game is played in two different arenas. One for guys like you and one for women like me.”
It’s funny, even though Shannon and I are friends and both work in the financial industry, we’ve never really had any meaningful conversations about the daily uphill battles we face as women. In either arena, we have to be tough. This Wall Street world is like an exclusive club that we’re lucky, or unlucky, enough to join. So why should we have the added hassle of proving that we’re not inferior? We just want to kick some ass and make some money like everyone else.
“You know,” I start, “I had a conversation with Serena Walters once.”
Her eyes light up. “Seriously? I love her.”
“So do I. She basically told me that if you want something you have to take it. It’s all about confidence. If you have that, nothing can stop you.”
Shannon’s demeanor changes and she holds her head high. “Confidence, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah. The thing is, this business is tough no matter who you are. But don’t let some man or job or stereotypical stigma stamp out your flame.”
The bartender slides Shannon’s fresh drink over. “Wise words from Serena Walters. And you.”
I hold up my glass. “To Serena Walters.”
Shannon clinks hers with mine, then gazes at me while we sip. “Well, I can appreciate a man who respects powerful women.”
I know that look. She’s sent it over to many men across the bar before. A laugh bubbles up in my mouth so I pop it with a tight-lipped smile. It seems that all is forgiven.
When her gaze doesn’t relent, I pull my attention away, glancing over at Regina and Eric.
Wait. I don’t see him.
Where’d he go?
“I gotta get back. See you around.” I grab the cocktails and hurry over as fast as I can without spilling the vodka cranberry mix.
“Where’s Eric?” I ask. My panicked pulse quickens.
“Headed home, I think. Said he was calling it a night. I tried to stall him but . . .”
“Damn!” My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out. Eric Walker displays across our adorable bar selfie.
Regina peeks at it, tugging her bottom lip with her teeth the way she does when she feels sympathetic. “He misses you.”
The ache is soothed for a moment by the warmth of those words. “What did he say?”
“He asked me to ask Delia to call him as soon as she can. He said he hopes she’s not headed to Boca forever.”
I hammer my fist on the table. “Damn it! This isn’t fair!”
Regina flinches. “Damn, don’t break the table. I get it, girl. And while I don’t have your exact . . . eh . . . situation, I know what it’s like to want someone that you just can’t have.” Her lashes fall and she stares into her pink martini. It doesn’t show often, but I know her secret love affair with her boss wasn’t just about sex for her. It left a deep wound that has yet to heal. She begins to let out a sigh but then halts it as she peers past my shoulder. “Hold up. Is that Shannon over there?”
I don’t need to look to know it’s her. “Yeah, maybe we should—”
“Uh-oh. I think she spotted us.”
“Is she coming over here?” By the look on Regina’s face, Shannon’s comin’ in hot.
“Yep, this night’s about to get interesting,” she says through an inflated smile as the click of Shannon’s heels draws closer. “Oh my god, Shannon! What’s up, girl?” Regina holds out her arms and our fiery-haired friend plows right into them.
“I’m so glad I ran into you here. It’s been for-e-ver! And Richard! I didn’t know you knew Gina too.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, then returns her attention to Regina. “Is Delia with you?”
“No, she’s headed out of town.” Regina flashes me an uneasy look.
“Damn, I have got to catch up with that girl.” Shannon settles in and sets her drink on the table. Looks like she’s here to stay.
Oh, boy.
While my friends catch up, Brian moseys back over to our table, eyes locked on Regina like she’s the answer to his JLo dreams. “Hey, Richard. Is this your girlfriend?” He flashes his left hand and pops his hip, mimicking the dance from the break room.
I snort a laugh. Brian might be making fun of me but his put a ring on it wave is pretty spot-on. “No, this is my friend Regina, and this is Shannon.”
“I’m Brian.” He offers his hand and his full attention to Regina while Shannon rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone.
Regina encourages his flirtatious behavior with a cute giggle. “I like your little dance.”
“Yeah, Richard showed it to us earlier.”
“Really?” Regina says playfully, and I know she’s making a mental note to ask me about it later. “Well, Richard does love to dance.”
“Oh, yeah?” Shannon’s brows shoot up. “So do I!” My friend scoots a tad closer. Even though she’s got no shot with me, which she would appreciate if she knew the whole truth, I think her interest is kinda sweet.
“So how do you all know each other?” Brian asks.
Regina and I trade slightly panicked what’s our story? glances when Shannon offers, “College.”
Good answer.
Brian seems satisfied with it. Probably because he’s less interested in my connection with these two beautiful women and more interested in making his own with one of them. He cozies in next to Regina and compliments her smile in a way that’s sweet, not slimy. I doubt the poor guy has a chance with her. He’s too blond and Waspy looking. So not her type.
“Okay, speaking of college, I’ve got an idea.” Shannon holds her hands up, and I’m almost sure spirit fingers will be making an appearance. The three of us freeze, awaiting what’s next. “My friend just texted me from Solei. They’re playing some throwback Thursday jams, and it’s a party. We should go. I haven’t been out dancing all week.”
“I’m in,” Brian says.
I shoot my roommate a wide-eyed look—Regina, if you can telepathically hear me, I know you don’t want to go home but I should probably get the hell out of here. “I dunno, guys. I have an early day tomorrow.”
&nbs
p; “C’mon, it’s on our side of town and it’s your birthday. Don’t you want to celebrate your special day?” I’m pretty sure my message was received and she’s just ignoring it.
Shannon’s face lights up. “It’s your birthday?! Then you absolutely have to come out.”
Regina leans in, nudging my arm. “Seriously, it’s been the craziest day ever. What do you say? I know you could use a shake-it-off.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Before I know it the four of us are filing into an UberX headed for Solei, a club in the East Village. Just as I’m about to slide in next to Shannon, Brian taps my shoulder.
“Is it cool if I sit in the back?” he asks man-to-man. It’s not just the back seat, he wants to slide into Regina’s DMs too. I’d be surprised if he walks away from this night with anything more than a polite hug. But who am I to stand in the way of the mating game?
“Sure, bro,” I reply like one of the boys. And with my blessing, he’s off to the races. The car pulls out, and Brian drives a conversation with Regina, playing it cool with casual questions like it’s their first date. Shannon, sandwiched between them, slouches in her seat and scrolls her phone. In the same way a yawn is contagious, I pull out my own device. A missed call from Eric and . . . a missed voice mail? My finger trembles against the screen while a stilted breath barely escapes my lungs.
“Hey, Delia. It’s me,” he starts with a dreamy tone. “I know you’re in the middle of something important, and I’ve been blowin’ up your phone, but I just wanted to say . . .” My heart pitter-patters with anticipation as I smooth the hair around my ear. His laugh breaks the silence, making my stomach somersault. “You never let me sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you yesterday, and it’s getting late, so . . . Happy birthday to you,” he croons in a rich vibrato, Sinatra-style. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Delia. Happy birthday too-oo you.” Oh, yeah. This takes the cake. If he’d been singing onstage, I would’ve tossed him my panties. My grin is so big you’d think I’ve got a winning lotto ticket in my pocket.
Best. Birthday gift. Ever.
“Anyway,” he continues, “I hope your grandma gets better. And when you can, we’ll go out and celebrate your special day. See you soon.”
Ohmigod! That was the most amazing message I’ve ever gotten in my life! I may be in a man’s body but in this moment I’m a sixteen-year-old girl in love. If I don’t tell someone, I’ll burst! I look back, the good news written all over my face, but Regina’s immersed in conversation with Brian, who obviously wants to skip the candles and go for that cake. And it’s not even his birthday.
Shannon spots my smile and leans forward with her legs on either side of the console. “What are you so happy about?”
“I just got a really nice birthday message from someone.”
“Who? Your girlfriend?”
“No. Just someone I like.” It’s damn near impossible not to gush right now.
“Gotcha.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a packet of cinnamon gum—her favorite. Her lips wrap around the tip of the stick as she slides it into her mouth, holding my gaze.
Is she trying to wake up Little Dickie?
Nah. It’s probably harmless. I know this girl—after a couple cocktails she’d flirt with my eighty-two-year-old grandpa.
“How many drinks have you had?” I ask in the same concerned way I always do at this point in the night.
“Just enough to start making bad decisions.” That’s what I was afraid of. She twirls a finger around her shimmery copper strands as she leans back, letting her skirt ride up her thighs. “You might have to keep an eye on me.”
Yeah, no shit. She usually needs a babysitter once alcohol is involved. Just as I’m regretting my decision to stay out, I catch a glimpse of Shannon at an angle I haven’t seen before.
Whoa.
She’s pulling a Britney.
I stare a second too long before averting my eyes. Less than twenty-four hours without one and it’s like I forgot what it looks like. With a small chuckle, I shake my head. Oh, Shannon . . .
My thoughts drift away to a night when Eric and I met some friends for happy hour after work. He wasn’t dating anyone at the time, and I was convinced that it was the perfect night to make a move. He’d been drinking. I’d been drinking. But even with all the liquid courage, I still couldn’t do it. So I excused myself to the ladies’ room and called Shannon, who seemed to get any guy she ever wanted, for advice. “Take off your panties,” she suggested, claiming that anytime she was DTF, she would lose her thong and the guys would be all over her. Especially the one she wanted. Said it had something to do with allowing more pheromones to release. I told her I didn’t think it worked that way, but she assured me it did. Every time.
So I locked myself in the stall, slipped off my underwear, and stuffed it in my purse. By the time I’d taken ten steps back into the crowd, something had shifted. I was turnt up and turned on. But when I returned to our corner of the bar, Eric had cozied up with some rando with fake tits and real sex appeal. From the way she unapologetically pressed her breasts into him, I knew she wasn’t wearing any panties. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. I just disappeared. Needless to say, it was a breezy walk home. Knowing what I know now, I shouldn’t have conceded defeat so easily.
“We’re here!” Shannon shouts as the car slows to a stop.
“Holy shit,” I say, scanning the line of fifty people at the door. “We’ll be here all night just trying to get in.”
She pokes her head between the front seats and whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry.” Ooh, tickles. “I know the bouncer.” No surprise there.
While I step out on the sidewalk to wait for the others, my head turns upward at the misty blanket of city lights clouding the night sky. Even if I can’t see it, I know just beyond the veil is an abyss holding the moon, the stars, and . . . what? What’s out there? What changed me? Will it ever change me back?
“C’mon, let’s go inside.” Shannon waves us to follow her, swaying her hips with the click of her heels. The bouncer, who looks like a retired UFC fighter, spots her approaching and unfastens the black velvet rope. The muscleman leans into Shannon’s ear and she giggles, squeezing his swollen biceps in response. There’s no welcome wagon for the boys. He just shoots us the stank-eye. Definitely not used to getting that look at the door.
Inside, Solei is the complete opposite of Pearl 20. The walls boom with EDM as guys in trendy jeans and girls in designer stilettos gyrate against each other on the dance floor. It’s like every twentysomething in the East Village is here tonight.
“Should we grab a drink first?” Shannon shouts over the club beats, pointing ahead.
“Sure!” I shout back.
She takes my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, guiding me deeper into the colorful flock of modern-day club kids while Regina and Brian follow close behind. As girlfriends, we’ve held hands a million times squeezing our way through nightlife crowds. But her fingers feel strangely small in mine now. Kinda trippy.
At the bar, Shannon manages to wedge herself between a couple of guys and hails the bartender like a taxi. “Can we get some drinks over here?” Between the two mixologists, neither seems to notice her.
Brian pushes his way through and waves a fan of cash. It does nothing to capture their attention. “Well, shit.”
“I got this.” Regina slinks in front of Brian, fluttering her lashes before she hops up, practically sliding her chest on the bar. With two fingers in her mouth, she blows out a piercing whistle amidst the deafening music. Somehow, it cuts through and one of the bartenders appears, eager for our order. “What can I get you?”
“You see this guy behind me?” She points my way. “It’s his birthday. So let’s get a round of birthday cake shots, and do a little something special for him, would ya?”
“Comin’ up.”
/> While we wait for our round, Shannon bops her butt back and forth then playfully bumps me with her hip. So I tap it back with my hands in the air. “Heyyy!” I sing and catch Brian in a little snicker. But once he sees the girls make me a booty shake sandwich, all of a sudden he’s rockin’ away like he’s Justin Timberlake.
“Oh, okay, okay!” Regina chants, sliding to his left. Who knew? The guy’s got rhythm. I hope I still have mine.
“Here you go.” The bartender sets a round of shots on the bar. “That’ll be sixty-five fifty.” A little birthday candle, just like the one I blew out yesterday, sits in the center shot glass with nothing but a bed of white whipped cream holding it upright. Isn’t that cute?
“This round’s on me.” Brian hands over a wad of cash. Gotta love a free drink.
The barman lights the candle with a quick flick, and Regina carefully hands it over while Brian passes around the other drinks. For a moment, I get lost in the tiny dancing flame. The sound of Eric singing “Happy Birthday” resounds in my mind as I reflect back on sitting at Fairbanks’s kitchen island. Never in a million years would I have imagined that this was how I’d start the next year of my life. And perhaps even the rest of my life.
“Wait! I’m here!” a familiar friendly voice calls behind me.
“Is that Frankie?” Shannon asks, and I look back.
Regina grins, waving at him to join us. “Yay! You got in!”
Frankie huddles in next to me sporting a black and white rose-printed shirt buttoned up to his Adam’s apple and smelling like a fresh spritz of Dior. The gang’s all here!
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I shout over the music.
“You’re not the only one who needs a shake-it-off. Now make a wish.”
“And make it a good one,” Regina says with a wink. Who knows if I’ll be lucky enough to have another birthday wish come true. But I close my eyes and dream of trading in this fine Michael Kors for my real birthday suit.