by Staci Hart
I thought about my perfect girl as I stared absently at Manhattan in the distance, thought about all the women I’d been with, all the women I knew. The dial stopped on one in particular. “Unassuming, with a sense of humor. Kind, generous, trustworthy. Loyal.” About five-foot-four with curly blond hair, freckles, and a brother who would annihilate me if he knew our secret.
The admission caught me off guard, and I kept my face still to mask it. There was no stopping my pulse, which ticked a bit faster and harder than it had been.
Elena nodded. “What are you looking for in a relationship?”
I hadn’t really considered what I was looking for, since I hadn’t really considered a relationship before. No one had inspired that for me — the want to just be with someone. There were women whose company I enjoyed, don’t get me wrong. But I’d never needed any of them. It was always easy to walk away, so I did.
But in my life — The Life that was as lonely and separate as it was immersive and public — there was only one thing I wanted. Once I did think about it, the answer was simple.
“A best friend.”
“It’s that easy?”
“I don’t see why it should be hard. Who better to share your life with than your best friend?”
The photographer got up and looked around. “Can I get you stretched out here on this front part?” She motioned toward the bow.
“Yeah.” I hauled myself out of the cockpit and walked to the bow, lay down in the narrow space, and hung my arms in the ropes. One knee was up, my other leg stretched out in front of me in white linen pants, cuffed haphazardly
Her mouth hung open for a second before she disappeared behind the camera. “Oh, fuck — that’s perfect. Don’t move.” The camera went nuts. “Jana, bring the reflector over here. Hurry.”
Her assistant hustled over with a reflective panel.
“Yes, angle it a little more … there. Okay, Cooper, rub the back of your neck.”
I smirked and did it.
“Oh, my God,” she sang from behind the camera. “You’re going to get half our readers pregnant just by pointing that smile at them. It should come with its own warning.”
I full-on laughed at that. The camera went ballistic.
Elena had followed us up and was writing as she watched, smiling. “What are you going to do when you find your dream girl?”
“Who’s to say I haven’t already?”
She laughed. “All right, so what would you say to your dream girl, if you had the chance?”
I didn’t know how to respond. Maggie’s face was on my mind — she was the only inspiration I could find to formulate an answer. I thought about what she’d been through, thought about all the things I wanted to show her. To save her from and give her. The confession poured out of me.
“I’ve been around the world, and I thought I’d seen everything it had to offer until that night, until I saw you. In all my life, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, not standing in the Blue Mosque or the Taj Mahal. Not in the streets of Rome or canals of Venice. Making you smile gives me life. Making you laugh gives me hope. Making you happy is all I want, other than to keep you.”
The photographer had lowered her camera, and Elena’s pen was still as everyone watched me. My chest ached — I felt raw, exposed.
So I threw The Smile at them.
“Hey, you asked.” And then I stood, keeping my back to the water as they watched, still gaping. I jerked my chin at the photographer. “Heads up.”
She snapped into action, raising her camera just as I backflipped off the bow with a whoop, hitting the chilly water feet first. I looked up as the bubbles dissipated and I could see the shape of my ship, the colors of the sky beautiful and distorted beyond the rippling surface, the sea around me wide and empty. And for a long moment, I stayed where I was in the solitude before swimming back to the air.
Maggie
My fingers flew on my keyboard that night, my brain tripping. I read over my response again to make sure I didn’t sound like an idiot. Yes, I would be available for an interview tomorrow. No, the notice wasn’t too short. That I was looking forward to meeting her, too.
I’d come home to a quiet apartment, all smiles. Went through my collection of delivery menus and ordered the best Thai curry I’d ever had. Freaked out when I’d gotten an interview request on a Sunday evening for an application I’d placed that morning.
Basically, I felt like I was standing on top of a mountain wearing a backpack full of hundred dollar bills.
I smiled and fired off the email before closing my laptop with a snap.
It was the job I wanted the most — Project Homestead. I’d need to put together a plan to prep, and I was grateful that the box of my teaching materials had already come from Jackson. I had my old textbooks and lesson plans and was ready to jump in, ready to get my head back in the game after so long off.
See, I’d only worked for a year out of college. When Jimmy and I got engaged over the summer, he urged me to quit so I could plan the wedding. Even before we were engaged, he made more than enough to cover our expenses, told me to hang onto whatever I earned teaching. That it was ‘my money.’ And thank God for that — I didn’t know how else I would have made it on my own once everything fell apart.
I’d always thought he just wanted to take care of me. It made me feel safe and cared for that he didn’t want me to worry about money. But looking back, I think he was just placating me, spoiling me like he would a child to keep me quiet and happy.
Everything looking back felt like a lie — I didn’t trust that a single thing he’d ever said to me was genuine. That every look was with the knowledge that I wasn’t his only girl, just his regular girl. That he’d been running around on me forever, and somehow, everyone knew except me. A spectacular show, that’s what it was. Once I found out, they all said that it was none of their business, that they didn’t want to intrude.
Southern manners, my ass.
In their defense, he seemed to have a regular set of girls — including my childhood best friend — and all of them knew about me. He never took them in public. It was all very discreet, nothing more than whispers and rumors. My best friend Brooke didn’t even know. Because God knew if she did, she’d have told me in an instant.
No, Jimmy was smart about it. And I was a fool for never questioning a thing he did.
I sighed and climbed out of bed, trying to push my thoughts away and focus on now. Now was so much easier. Simpler.
Now was a sexy boy toy. Now was Manhattan and Central Park and a job interview. A job interview I needed to pick out an outfit for.
I was elbow deep in business casual when my phone rang on my bed. I smiled when I scooped it up and found a picture of Brooke giving me moose ears and a kissy face.
I answered and held the phone in place with my shoulder. “Hey, Brookie.”
“Hey, Maggieboo. You free?”
“These days? Always. How are you?”
“Good. Just missing you. How’s New York treating you?”
“Pretty brilliantly. I kind of had an amazing day.” I held up a button-down to judge its worth. You can do better. I tossed it back in the pile.
“Tell me about your exciting adventures because I’ve got nothin’ to report except that I ran into Richard Peck at Joe’s bar. Remember how hot he used to be?”
“Uh, yeah. Everybody wanted some Dick.”
She snickered. “With a name like Dick Peck, you’d think he would’ve had a hard time getting laid. But I’m not even sure if he can see his junk without a mirror, never mind use it for pleasuring the ladies.”
A cackle shot out of me. “Oh, my God, Brooke.”
“Seriously, I watched him eat a twenty-ounce ribeye, a basket of onion rings, a side of chili fries, a giant piece of chocolate cake, and I think he drank a case of beer. The guy’s a mammoth.”
I shook my head, still chuckling. “Guess nobody sent him the memo that you can’t eat like a linebacker when you d
on’t work out like one. When he was a senior and I was a sophomore, I dreamed about that boy. West used to give me so much crap for it. He always knew what douche Dickie was, even though none of the rest of us could see it. Around here, they call that douchesparkle, and Dick’s was blinding.” I sorted through the pile of tops.
“Oh, man. It’s so true though,” she said with a laugh. “So, tell me about your brilliant day? Did it have anything to do with Cooper Moore?”
“You don’t always have to call him by his full name, you know?” I picked up a deep purple top with a little tie on the collar and eyed it.
“I can’t help it. It’s like calling Jared Leto just plain old ‘Jared’ or Michael Fassbender ‘Mike.’ I can’t do it.”
I laughed and tossed that one too. “He’s just a person like anybody else, Brooke.”
“Whatever. Tell me the details of your bangin’ sex life. Because Jackson is hot in every way aside from the kind that gets me laid.”
“Things are good. I saw Cooper earlier today, after I finished applying to a handful of jobs. I have an interview tomorrow with one, which is part of why I’m feeling extra amazing right now.”
“Ooh, that’s awesome. I hope it goes well! Now, tell me the story of Cooper Moore’s nakedness.”
I picked up a peach blouse, but it was too sheer. Tossed it back in the pile. “His nakedness was definitely one of the highlights of my day.”
She straight up giggled.
“I dunno, Brooke. He’s just damn fine and knows exactly what he’s doing. I mean, I’ve never been nailed so hard my knees go weak. Not before him.”
Brooke sighed. “I am so jealous.”
I shook my head, smiling as I picked up a cream blouse with a lace collar. Perfect. “It’s nice to not have any strings, you know? I don’t owe him anything, and he doesn’t owe me anything. No pressure, and I get to have my vagina rocked on the regular, for a little bit longer at least.”
“Right. The rules.” I could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
My face scrunched up. “What the hell, Brooke? Don’t you judge me.”
“I’m only slightly judging you. And not just because you let him bareback.”
I scoffed. “I’ve got an IUD, and he’s clean. There’s no reason to use condoms.”
“So you trust him with your sexual health but not with your heart?”
“Basically. You think West would kill him if he found out we were having sex? Imagine what he’d do if he found out Cooper gave me the clap.”
She chuckled. “I dunno, Mags. I think we should agree that one should never think twice about a gift such as Cooper Moore. I definitely don’t think I’d ever tell him I didn’t want to have meaningless sex with him anymore, or that he couldn’t take me to fancy dinners and hoity-toity Manhattan restaurants that you have to book months in advance.”
“Because then it could get serious, and I don’t want to get serious.”
“I’m just saying. You’re basically telling one of the sexiest men ever exactly what to do.”
“Sometimes he tells me what to do. In bed.”
She laughed. “I bet he does. How much longer until time’s up?”
“Two weeks.” A little flash of sadness shot through me, but I ignored it, focusing instead on which pants to wear.
“So what happens if you want to keep something going? What if he does?”
“Doesn’t matter if I want to or not. If I keep it going, there’s a chance I could fall for him.”
“You could fall for him anyway.”
I rolled my eyes as I folded the rejected clothes. “People don’t fall in love in a month.”
“That’s a pretty big presumption, Mags.”
“I just don’t get that sentiment. It’s part of why I don’t go bananas over romance novels. I mean, instant lust, that’s fine. I get that. I’ve felt that at the laundromat. Imagined gettin’ bent over a folding table by this gorgeous Persian guy. I might have propositioned him if he wasn’t sorting G-strings.”
“Were they his?”
“Wouldn’t have even mattered, so long as they weren’t his girlfriend’s.”
She laughed. “So you’ve experienced instalust, which makes it real. But since you haven’t experienced instalove, it can’t possibly be real. Sound right?”
“That about sums it up.”
“Oh, Maggie.” She sighed. “Instalust at the laundromat is way better than Dick Peck at Joe’s. You’re lucky you got out of here when you had the chance. You’d have been stuck here forever if you’d married Assface.”
We had a pact not to speak his name unless absolutely necessary. “Don’t remind me.”
“Is he still texting you?”
“At least once a week. Haven’t responded.”
“I see him here and there. I swear, every time, he pumps me for information like penny slots. Pop a question in, pull the lever, watch as my eyes roll around and around. I haven’t told him anything though other than to give it up. I maybe also threw my drink in his face on Friday night.”
I laughed, hoping it burned like hell. “Oh, that makes me happy.”
“I thought it might. So, what’s after Cooper Moore?”
“I dunno.” That sad feeling was back, and I brushed it away like a hornet. “I should just sleep around. Just be all about the D.”
“You told your fuck buddy that he couldn’t bang anybody else for a month. How the hell do you think you’re gonna be okay banging randos you meet in bars? I mean, do people even go to bars alone in New York without getting mugged?”
“Depends on what part of town, but it’s not like trying to run around Bangkok alone. Plus, West bought me a Taser, so I’m pretty sure between that and my lightning reflexes, I could fuck a sexual predator up.”
“He bought you a Taser?”
“Of course he did.”
“Well, at least you know he cares.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t exactly hide that light under a bush.”
She giggled. “So, what did you cross off your list this week?”
“Well, I’ve done most of the touristy stuff — finally did the Statue of Liberty and went to the Met Cloisters — but I’m getting to the point where the tourists are actually starting to bug me.”
“That’s so snobby. You really are turning into a New Yorker.”
“I know. But they’ll stand in the middle of the sidewalk in packs trying to look at a map and figure out where to go. Or like you’ll see groups all wearing matching T-shirts that just take up the entire sidewalk, and when they aren’t standing still, they walk slow as hell.”
“Eat any new weird stuff?”
I picked up the stack of tops and laid them back in the drawer. “Oh, we went to this one place called What the Kale where everything in the whole restaurant was made with kale. Like wraps in kale. Sandwiches, but instead of bread? Kale. Kale soup. Kale salad. Fried kale. Kale chips.”
“Did it at least taste good?”
I snorted. “Are you kidding? Superfood my ass. Everything tasted like dirt. No amount of butter can save that level of funk.”
“Damn hipsters.”
“I just left wanting fried chicken and french fries, or a corn dog. Really, anything fried would have done. I would have even settled for that smelly mac and cheese with gruyere.”
“Ew.” She chucked.
“I don’t really know what else. I’ve got this job interview tomorrow, and I’ve been doin’ a whole lotta nothing otherwise.”
“Liar. You’ve been doin’ a whole lotta Cooper Moore.”
I huffed and flopped back into bed, crossing my ankles as I adjusted the phone. “Call him Cooper, Brooke.”
“I can’t! Leave me alone!”
“It’s weird. Stop it.”
“Did you go to his fancy penthouse today?”
I smiled to myself. “Yeah, and then he came with me to read in the park.”
“That’s totally a date.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Was there kissing?”
“Nope,” I answered.
“Sensual touching?”
I laughed. “Not even a little.”
“Boring, but still a date,” she said flatly. “Do you think he’s interested in you for more than a booty call?”
“We’re talking about America’s Playboy. Of course not.”
“Okay, hypothetically, if he was into you, you really wouldn’t extend the four week rule?”
I hated this conversation, and we had it almost every time we talked. “How could I? There’s no universe that exists wherein I’m ready for a relationship, especially not with a sexy, rogue socialite.”
“You wouldn’t even be willing to try?”
“I don’t know how else to explain it to you, Brooke. I don’t trust myself or my feelings. I was a blind, naive fool with Jimmy. It’s painfully clear that I don’t know anything about relationships or love. How can I trust somebody else if I don’t even trust myself?”
She paused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push. I just want you to be happy and okay.”
I sighed. “So do I. But I’m happy, and I’m okay, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I paused. “I miss you.”
She sighed. “You too. It’s just not the same with you gone.”
I stared at my Passion Pink toes. “I just had to get out of there.”
“I would have left too, honestly. Part of me wishes I had.”
My heart sank. “You’re doing the right thing, taking care of your grandma.”
She let out a long breath. “I know. She’s the only family I’ve got. But I still wish I could have come with you.”
“Me too. There’s so much to see and do, but I end up seeing and doing all by myself because everyone has real lives and real jobs.”
“Everyone except Cooper Moore.”
“Goddammit, Brooke.”
She snickered. “You should sightsee with him.”
“Have you not heard anything I’ve said? I’m not speaking German again, am I?”
“No comprende nada, Maggiecita!” she sang.
“No, you don’t understand, do you? Pushy ass.”
“I amuse you, don’t lie.”
I smiled. “Maybe a little.”