by Jess Bentley
“I sure do!” I reply gamely, hoping I can maybe drug them so they just go to sleep or something.
But can I complain? No way. Here I am walking through the nicest restaurant for a hundred miles, with everyone turning to glance at me. I feel like a princess. I feel like a rock star. I know they saw us when we walked in, but I didn’t realize we were this obvious.
An older couple shamelessly glares at me as I head toward the ladies room and I just give them my biggest, most mischievous smile. I even put a little more limp into my step so grandma can wonder what I have been up to.
But once in the bathroom, reality sets in. I try to pee, and the liquid stings like a mother. It takes me by such a surprise, I almost call out. Instead I just mangle the toilet paper roll in my fingernails and try to stay quiet.
Dabbing gently at my lady parts with folded toilet paper, I consider whether I will be able to decline any further penetration for the rest of the evening. How much can a girl really take? Besides, I can always jerk them off… Or suck them off… I have options.
Someone else comes into the ladies room and stands at the mirror. I watch her designer heels as she pivots and then presses up onto her toes, presumably to lean closer to the mirror. She’s probably waiting for the stall, so I hurry up and wiggle back into my panties.
When I come out of the stall, she smiles at me in the mirror, then gasps with her eyebrows raised.
“Chelsea? Chelsea… is that you?”
I almost want to run away. Instead I force myself to smile as big as I can.
“Yoyo! Oh my God, hi!”
She whirls around, grabbing me in a hug as she wobbles on those very high heels. She is even skinnier than she used to be. It’s like hugging a scarecrow.
“Oh my God, let me look at you!” she insists, shoving me backward with her hands on my shoulders. She knits her eyebrows and glares at me like I am a piece of meat. Or jewelry. More probably meat is the most accurate.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” she sighs enviously. “Like, seriously gorgeous!”
My heart does a little dance of gratitude. “Are you kidding me, Yoyo? You’re the gorgeous one! Look at you!” I gush. “That dress is just unbelievable!”
She waves her hand in the air as if to push the comment away modestly. I look her over in these few seconds, assembling the details critically. She really is a little thinner. Her hair is still lustrous, her skin perfectly clear. She hasn’t fallen apart, but there’s something… different. She’s not an Evanston teenager living off her parents anymore, that’s for sure.
But those are four hundred dollar heels, and I am pretty sure that Kate Spade bag wasn’t cheap. Still, there is something… different, like I said. Something kind of edgy.
Washing my hands, I take another second to glance at her. Man, what a beauty. Those almond eyes have enchanted probably half of our graduating class.
“It’s such a surprise to see you here,” I smile at her in the mirror. “Vacation?”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, conference,” she sighs dramatically. “You know how it is, a few meetings, and then mostly golf. Which is mostly just drinking in funny little cars, ha!”
I swallow hard, realizing if she were playing golf today, there is every likelihood we could have run into her. That was a close call, and I didn’t even know it.
“Oh, golf!” I comment lamely. “I never really took that up. So, what do you do?”
“Client relations for a custom homebuilder… Around here… You know, nothing big.”
She glances away, her tone is light and charming, but her body language is a little bit defensive.
“But what about you?” she continues, nudging me with her shoulder while I dry my hands. “You probably have a Master’s by now, right? A doctorate? Two, maybe?”
“Um, no,” I answer uncomfortably. “Just a Bachelor’s… Teaching certificate. Early childhood education.”
“Oh, really!” she says, and her voice is so high-pitched I really don’t believe her. “Well that is nice!”
I shrug. “It is,” I assert, wishing that I could sound a little less defensive about it. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Oh, sure it is, hon,” she sighs, squeezing my arm. “I just meant since you graduated early… I thought you would have a bunch of degrees by now. That’s all.”
“It’s only been a few years, Yoyo,” I grumble, picking my handbag back up off the marble sink. “So… Great to see you—”
“And those handsome stepbrothers of yours?” she asks suddenly, her keen interest resurfacing with a vengeance. “Are they totally millionaires already? Just like you said they would be?”
I shrug and look away. “Yeah… I guess so. They do pretty good. ”
“You don’t say!” she says, her voice getting louder. “Well, good for them! I always knew they would be tremendous. Just tremendous! And the big question: are they single?”
She’s got a little bit of lipstick on her teeth, which I could see because she’s grinning and leaning so close to me I can smell the Chardonnay on her breath.
“Well, yeah. I mean yes. They are.”
Yes, I tell myself. They are. Yes. That was a true answer to her question.
“Wow… I will have to look them up! Or maybe you could give me their numbers?”
“Actually, um, they’re here…”
I swallow hard to make myself shut up. Why would I say that? What the hell is wrong with me? She leans forward again, holding my arm between her fingers, her painted nails slightly digging in. She’s still smiling, but her features are frozen, like they have just suddenly turned to stone.
“Here? Like, in the restaurant?”
I nod, pulling my arm away delicately.
“See, now this is fate!” she announces emphatically. “I just knew it... I knew something good was going to happen this weekend! You know what I mean? You know how sometimes you can just feel things?”
I squint at her, trying to figure out what is going on. Was she always like this? Always this… I don’t even know the word. It is something to do with the tone of her voice. Like it’s coming out of an extruder. Like it’s strained through a mesh. Like it’s forced.
“I don’t know if I really understand…”
“I am practically ready to quit this job!” she scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically as she slathers her pout in lip gloss. “Every day is practically torture. And they made me come to this conference. I was just ready to put in my two weeks’ notice! But then I thought… Free golf? Free dinner? Why shouldn’t I do that one more time? You know what I mean?”
“Sure.”
She stands back, clapping twice and then flinging her hands out dramatically.
“And look! You’re here! Get it? If I hadn’t come, I never would’ve bumped into you, Chelsea!”
“Yeah, that sure is a coincidence!”
I edge toward the door, ready to make a run for it. But she is quick. She reaches out and pokes me on the shoulder.
“So, hey? Where are you guys sitting? I’m at the bar.”
I clear my throat. “Oh… we’re in the dining room. I will tell them you said hi.”
“Lead the way!” she insists as though she didn’t just hear me trying to blow her off. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to see them!”
As we walk to the dining room, Yoyo is right behind me. I could feel her in high relief, almost like I can see exactly what she’s doing. Her posture changes: shoulders back, chin down. She’s swishing her hips as she swings those long legs in her expensive shoes.
We walk past the same people and they give me even more disgusted looks. Like I just picked up an extra sexual partner in the bathroom somehow. What is even with these people? We could be on a double date for all they know. We could be cousins.
For half a millisecond I kind of wonder... what are we?
Chance and Jack are leaning toward each other, chuckling about something, oblivious. They catch my eye as I walk up, smiling expectantly, then shifting immediately t
o surprise.
Yoyo pushes past me, her hands waving in front of her excitedly.
“You guys!” she squeals. “Oh my God! Chelsea told me you were here! It’s me, Yolanda!”
Being gentlemen, they both stand up to greet her, smiling in a polished, friendly way and shaking hands warmly. But Chance squints at me suspiciously, sending me a silent question: What is going on here?
I just shrug. Hell if I know.
But as I take my seat again, Jack gives me a pained, confused expression. And I remember our deal suddenly. Our cover story. It seems like he remembers too.
Taking a beat, I lock eyes with him, considering the moment we are at. He did swear to provide cover for our relationship by hooking up with anybody who recognized us. That did happen. Was it a joke?
Sure, but only kind of.
I just take a deep breath and shrug, then shrink back into my chair. Disappointment flashes through his eyes and he pivots, resting his elbow on the table so that he can turn his attention to Yoyo.
Okay, Chelsea, I coach myself silently. You asked for this. You required it. It was your idea.
“Yeah, so what have you guys been up to?” She flirts shamelessly, swirling a lock of hair around her finger. She’s sitting in that girly way of pushing her tits together and swaying back and forth, a proven tactic, like a snake charmer. I can see why men would be helpless in the tractor beam of her cleavage.
“Oh, not much,” Chance says stiffly. “What about you?”
She slaps his arm playfully. “Not much?” she repeats. “I know that isn’t true! Chelsea tells me you guys are some kind of tech geniuses, right? That must be amazing. What is it you do again?”
“We design missile defense systems,” Jack answers sarcastically, nodding like it is the truth.
She widens her eyes, obviously shocked and not wanting to show it, but then tries to cover by nodding solemnly.
“Wow, that is really important work. Like, for the military?”
He takes a deep breath as though measuring his words. “Actually, we probably aren’t really allowed to say. You know… military secrets and all that. Shit! I just said military…”
“But you didn’t say which military,” Chance offers helpfully. “Could be anybody.”
“Right!” Jack sighs with relief. “Could be Libya! Could be Mexico!”
Yoyo narrows her eyes. “Mexico has a missile defense system?” she asks shrewdly.
Jack grimaces. “Actually, we can neither confirm nor deny…”
Yoyo’s smile is tight and strained, but she doggedly continues. “Well, that is really just… It’s amazing! I had no idea you guys were going to be so… I don’t even know what to say!”
Rich, I answer for her silently. You had no idea they were going to end up so rich, Yoyo.
“So tell us about you, Yoyo,” Chance asks, marshaling his attention to try to seem interested. “How are you here? Do you live in Galena?”
As she shifts in her seat, arching her back and flipping her hair in preparation, Chance sends me a warning glare. He wants to know what I expect him to do. She’s coming on to him, and he is sending up a flare for help.
But I don’t know what to say. What am I supposed to say?
As though he senses what I’m thinking, Jack twists fully in his chair and drops his elbow on the table so Yoyo can’t see his expression. His lips are a thin line of frustration as he glares at me.
“You can’t be serious about this,” he mutters, just loud enough that I can hear.
“We had a deal,” I mutter back.
He squints his eyes shut and shakes his head tightly.
“That was a joke, Chelsea,” he growls. “I can’t believe you brought her right to the table… Is this a test? Are you… I don’t get it!”
“So I work for developer. Just here for a conference!” Yoyo blares behind Jack’s back. “Wow, those oysters smell amazing!”
“Help yourself,” Chance offers with a wave of his hand. “Please, be my guest.”
Jack reaches out and pulls my hand from where I have it wedged between my knees. He tugs on my fingers urgently.
“Seriously, Chelsea,” he says in a low voice.
Holding his hand seems wrong right now, and I push it away so that nobody can see.
“This is totally messed up,” I mumble to myself.
“It really isn’t,” he answers in rapid whisper. “It’s really simple, if you think about it. We’ve been having a great time. We always have a great time. Everything is… It’s good, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
I shrug and shake my head helplessly.
It is? I think it is. But there are rules, right?
Chance and Yoyo continue to chat behind Jack, but he won’t let go. I try to pull my hand away completely, and he holds it even tighter.
“What you expect me to do here?” he asks me with an edge in his voice.
“You promised,” I remind him resolutely.
He narrows his silvery gray eyes at me and flares his nostrils in irritation. I see the shake of his head as he finally releases my hand and turns in his seat to face Yoyo. There’s a brief moment where he connects with Chance, some silent relay of information between them, a conversation that probably ends with a decision. Something I don’t want to see.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
Ugh. I want to be sick.
Yoyo just chats and chats and chats, thrilled to be herself. She is just the same: a girl who effortlessly commands the attention of everybody in the room. Beautiful. Chatty and sexy. The kind of girl everybody wants to be, or wants to be with.
Fine. This is fine. I should’ve known it was always going to end this way anyway.
“I really can’t believe you guys live in Lake Geneva!” she bleats. “I am just in Arlington Heights! I should come up and visit you, don’t you think? Chelsea? Where do you live?”
I freeze in my chair, realizing that suddenly the spotlight is on me. All three of them wait expectantly for my answer. Where do I live? Seriously? Is that a question?
Chance and Jack both raise their eyebrows, demanding that I step up and make a decision.
“Oh, actually I… guess I never really—”
“She lives in Lake Geneva too,” Jack answers, cutting me off.
She raises her perfectly plucked and shaded eyebrows. “What a great coincidence! Do you guys get to hang out much?”
Chance shoots me a look that tells me I’m no longer in control of this conversation.
“Yeah, we hang out all the time. We live together.”
Jack reaches back without looking and takes my hand again, dragging it toward his lap, holding my fingers too tightly for me to get away. My heart starts hammering and I swallow, hard.
Yoyo’s eyes track the movement, watching shrewdly, her face transforming from flirty expectation to icy, cold judgment.
“Together you say?” she repeats acidly. “Well that’s… convenient? Right?”
Sucking her cheeks in, she pulls herself up a little taller in her chair. I can almost see what she’s thinking, and I want to shrink away, but Jack keeps pulling me forward. Chance catches my eye again, sending me a message that goes something like, You know what, just let us handle this.
“It’s so convenient,” he smiles. “Don’t you think, Chelsea? Don’t we wait on you hand and foot?”
I almost want to laugh at the brazenness of his dare. Jack smirks at me over his shoulder.
“Yeah, Chelsea,” he joins in. “Isn’t it though? Don’t we just have the best arrangement?”
“Arrangement?” she echoes, chuckling judgmentally. “What are you guys saying? Are you serious?”
I don’t answer right away, so she looks at all of us, one at a time, her face changing from judgment to shock to jealousy to… I don’t even know what. But if she were a weather system, I would be heading for the cellar right now.
“Okay, is this some kind of joke? You’re kidding me? Ha-ha, ver
y funny. Chelsea? What is really going on here?”
My mouth is dry. I can hear my pulse in my ears. The room kind of sways in front of me, blurry like one of those photographs of a rainy night.
But mostly what I feel is Jack’s hand, wrapped around mine, his grip so warm and confident that I never want to let go.
Finally I take a deep breath and force myself to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. I make myself sit up in the chair, arranging my posture, holding my chin up.
Chance smirks triumphantly. Jack picks up my hand and buries my fingertips in his grin.
“These are my guys, Yoyo,” I say out loud.
She sets her jaw, her smile grim.
“Your guys,” she repeats. “Yeah, right. Guys, plural.”
“Plural, yeah,” I smile, re-inflating with every beat of my heart. I feel like a butterfly beating its wings for the first time, forcing the wings to dry out and work, forcing myself to take the next step toward flying off.
“So plural,” Jack chuckles, to Yoyo’s horror.
She whips her head toward Chance for confirmation and Chance just shrugs. He stands up out of his chair and walks around the table so he can stand behind me, dipping his head to brazenly nuzzle my neck and shoulder.
“Wow, just fucking wow,” she growls. “That is disgusting. That is… Man, that is fucking disgusting. I can’t believe that you guys—”
“Won’t you excuse us, Yoyo?” Jack interrupts, turning away from her so he can face me completely.
She sputters in fury and frustration before she stands up and stalks away. I can hear those heels on the carpet, but all I can really see is Jack. All I can feel is Chance’s breath trickling over my bare skin.
“There, now, isn’t that better?” Jack asks. “So much better than… your other plan?”
I want to giggle nervously, but I know if I start, I will not be able to stop. I just shrug helplessly.
“Well, I think it’s better,” Chance murmurs, taking my earlobe between his teeth and exhaling softly into my ear.
I shiver, goosebumps racing down my arm.
“I just can’t believe it… I can’t believe I had to say all that stuff out loud!”
Jack shrugs. “I can’t believe it took you so long. You’re going to have to get used to the fact that we just do what we want, Chelsea. It’s a way of life. You will catch on.”