by Troy Storm
“What extenuating circumstances?” Lucy leaned forward.
“And what do you mean, 'first time around'?” Dorothy asked.
“Dear innocent Lucy,” Christy turned toward the innocent. “It seems you set him up for me and I, efficiently, knocked him out of the park.”
“And I didn't even get to pop a foul,” Dorothy muttered darkly.
The youngest of the trio looked puzzled. “What do you mean, set Matt up?”
“It's all over the town gossip loops, little one. You and Matt were caught canoodling at the scenic pullover off the Taconic. Obviously, after so easily getting to first base, he was ripe to be picked off by me. Batter up.” She elegantly swung her breadstick before popping it between her gleaming white teeth and taking another healthy crunch.
Dorothy spoke up brusquely. “Christy, not that I don't appreciate a free meal, but why are we here? You didn't have to take us out to gloat. You could have announced your victory at The Crowing Glory and the entire county would have known it by nightfall.”
“The entire county knew it by nightfall, anyway,” Lucy sighed morosely. “And we didn't make out at the overlook. We just looked. It was a beautiful sunset. He said it was a special place and he wanted me to share it. I did get a really nice kiss.”
“It's where he first asked his wife to marry him,” Dorothy explained, surprised the margarita was going to her head so quickly.
“Oh.” Lucy's eyes grew wide.
“She said no.” Christy killed Lucy's hopeful look. “He talked her into it later.”
“Oh.” Lucy looked totally confused. “What did that mean, then? Why do you think he took me there?”
“Did he say why?” Dorothy asked, a bit more of a teacherish edge to her voice than she had meant. Her margarita was already half gone and her face felt flushed. She reached for her water glass.
Lucy searched her memory. “Just...he wanted to share it.”
“Was it a nice sunset? Maybe he…”
“It was okay. I like the ones with more clouds better, you know? This one was a little bright.” She blinked. “We were looking right into the sun.”
“Maybe,” Christy broke in, “he just wanted to share a pretty sight, a pretty place. Some guys are like that. They just like to share. It's been a long time for Matt.” She smoothed the tablecloth surrounding the bread plate in front of her. “Okay. That's a good segue into what this little victory lap here is about.”
“Here you are, ladies.” Giancarlo-for-the-evening magically appeared with a tray filled with their appetizer plates, which he efficiently set out. “Have you thought about a main course, or will this be a light evening for the ladies?”
“I'm thinking we might need something substantial. What do you say, girls?” Christy asked. “Do you have spaghetti with meatballs and roasted vegetables?”
“With scollops?” Lucy piped up. “I love spaghetti and seafood.”
“Mushrooms and chicken.” Dorothy smiled in Christy's direction. “Since you're paying.”
“Very good. A celebration.” Giancarlo impressively rattled off a series of Italian phrases interspersed with spaghetti. “Was there a bet or something? And a winner?”
“You nailed it. She won.” Lucy pointed to Christy.
“And she's paying? You ladies are after my own heart.”
“Aw, I'll bet that heart is taken.” Christy ran her fingers through her white-blonde mane, peering up under her lashes. The effect was made. The young man's handsome face reddened as he gave a swaggering shrug.
“Naw. I'm free as a bird.”
“From one flower to the next,” Dorothy noted, dryly. “Ah, to be young and free...from one flower to the next.”
“Well, uh, I'd better get these orders in.” Eyes bright, cheeks pink, Giancarlo swivel-hipped away.
“Nice bottom,” Lucy noted quietly. “Oh, my, I'd better have another drink.” She looked around for someone to signal.
“Speaking of nice asses.” Christy picked up her phone, tapped on the touchscreen and presented the result to her dinner companions.
“Oh. My. God.” Lucy breathed. “It's Matt.”
“Naked. In bed. Asleep?” Dorothy's heart was instantly thundering. She felt slightly faint. Surely it was the drink. They must really lay the tequila on here, she thought. “That is a beautiful butt. And chest. And chin. And...” He was lying on his side, a leg over, covering himself, a sheet covering nothing else.
“I thought you two would appreciate it.” Christy had every right to be smug. “And then there's this one.”
She and Matt were in his bathroom. She was snuggled behind him, her phone raised taking a picture of them in the mirror as he shaved. He was naked. She was naked. He was fully exposed, grinning at her audacity.
“That's...beautiful. Gee...he's big.” Lucy swallowed.
Dorothy was struck dumb. He was...perfect. She had never seen her old buddy totally naked. Not since a very long time ago. When he was a lot more underdeveloped. He had grown into the perfect full-ripe manhood.
She struggled to get a grip on reality, to rationalize the male in front of her. He was a little soft, she critiqued. Too much time behind that desk in that cluttered auto shop office. Not quite as chiseled as he once was on the field…in the locker room. Maybe a bit more...hairy than he once was. A bit more…solid…a bit more…more.
She could feel his chest hair prickling against her cheek. She could feel his pubic hair cushioning her nose. Her eyes brimmed.
“Oh, shit. Dot. I didn't mean...” Christy put a gentle hand on her longtime friend's arm. “Oh, babe, I really didn't mean to upset you. I thought...” She brusquely pulled the phone away from Dorothy and stashed it in her purse. “I'll make you guys blow-ups and then I'll have to delete these. I promised. Dot, are you okay?”
“It's the horse-radish in the hummus, I guess.” Dorothy wiped her eyes with the restaurant's signature dark beige napkin and forced a laugh. “How was he, Christy? A great lay or a great lay?”
“A damn fine pussy-busting lay and that's what I want to talk about.”
“Uh...your dinners are ready...ladies.” It was dear Giancarlo. Eyes wide. Ears red. Cheeks even redder. Dinners at the ready. He parceled them out in silence as the women tried to repress grins. “If there's anything else...anything else...at all...I can get you. I'm available.” He pulled himself up. Stood very tall. Nice chest to match his nice ass. He was a handsome young lad. “Another drink?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“I'm driving. Have to look after my friends.” Christy upped the charm quotient to hot. The poor kid positively toasted under her sloe-eyed scrutiny. Dorothy wondered if she detected a rising bulge under his snug, pristine white serving apron. Bad Christy.
“Wow. You drive and you’re paying. Uh, if you like the way I've served you. I've got a personal page.” The young man scribbled furtively on a cocktail napkin, glancing around. “And whoever he is you were talking about.” His young voice was urgent and low. “I want to grow up to be him.” He was gone, his tightly encased exposed rear end bracketed by the apron quickly disappearing into the tangle of tables.
All three girls burst into laughter.
“I didn't quite get that,” Lucy said through her giggles, “but he's really cute. If I was into...sorry, 'were' into young guys, I'd sure look him up.”
“I'm not into young guys, but he'll grow. They always do.” Christy slipped the paper napkin with the kid’s notation into her purse. “Okay. Let's eat.”
A couple of hours later as she and Lucy tumbled out of Christy's SUV in the parking area of their hostess’ apartment complex, Dorothy's tequila-fueled thoughts tumbled toward what a great trio of friends they were. Christy was something else. Hot and sizzling, everyone envied and admired her, and she was always an inspiration. Lucy was the beautiful and dear innocent everyone wished they could remain.
“Come on in,” Christy directed, carefully guiding them up the sidewalk of the semi
-attached units. “The tiramisu and coffee are waiting. In an hour or so, you guys will be good to go.”
They had met at Christy's apartment and the beautiful white-blonde had driven them to the restaurant. She would be the designated driver of the evening and they would have dessert back at her place.
She had wanted to stay fairly sober, Dorothy remembered. Christy's earlier comment and the cool sobering night air also reminded her Christy had never really gotten around to whatever it was she wanted to talk about.
They had too good a time discussing Matt and the other available males around town, their own jobs, their bosses, and their looks as the drinks had freely flowed. They had been shameless in their teasing of the young waiter, but before they left he had supplied them with not only every social media address he had, but also his private email address and the high school soccer website where he was an outstanding player and, which he had eagerly pointed out, there was a revealing picture of him in the team dressing room on there as well.
Once the young waiter had moved out of range, Christy had quickly brought the dressing room picture up on her phone. The young athlete was wrapped in a towel, fending off the affection of a fellow player. Totally beautiful. Totally untouchable.
Glee on steriods, Dorothy thought, and she felt genuinely sorry when, as they slipped out of the booth and stood to go, Christy firmly informed the eager young man there was no way any of them could get involved with him.
“Yeah, but I'll grow up,” was his final bleat. “I'm growing all the time!” At which they all gave him a kiss on his blushing cheek and left, turning back to see his boss shaking an admonishing finger at the downcast young man.
“We were all bad,” Dot announced as a smiling Christy settled them into the apartment.
“Weren't we,” Lucy eagerly agreed. “I've never had such a good time. He was so cute. Our table guy, I mean.”
“Oh, I thought you meant the obsequious long-faced maitre d' and the grim old guy in the table next to our booth when we got too loud.”
Lucy hooted. “He was mad, but when I did my Little Nell act he looked so ashamed!” She dipped her head and looked sincerely apologetic. The girls were impressed. “Some guys are just so easy.”
She was still well under the influence, Dorothy noted. An hour might not be enough for her to be able to drive. Oh, well, it was a lovely apartment to bed down in.
Dorothy kicked her shoes off and settled into the comfy sofa. Christy had great taste. Not too flashy for the town whore and not too cutesy for the...
Aw, man, she didn't mean to think that, she berated herself. Christy was not that promiscuous. But she did do what she wanted and she had been known to go after a guy who was already taken and cause a big hoo-ha. She had been that way forever.
Dorothy smiled as their gracious hostess brought her a steaming cup of coffee and sat sugar and cream nearby. Christy had every right to look out for herself. She had had a rotten upbringing. Dorothy had had a great family life.
And here they both were. Friends.
“This stuff is great!” Lucy announced. “It doesn't need anything. What is it?”
“I know,” Christy grinned, joining them in the living room, shoe-less. “It's that fake instant international stuff. I've been addicted to it forever. Right, Dot?”
“Forever. She used to invite us to her house after school and serve it to us. It was expensive. French. Or Italian. Or some weird north country we'd never heard of. We thought it was very elegant. Very not CoveHaven. We felt very special. Christy went to Bryn Mawr.”
“Wow.”
“Two years. On scholarship. Then I realized I was in the wrong place and came back here. They were heartbroken. They thought they could re-wind my DNA.”
“You'll get out of here one day,” Dorothy said. “We all will.” She was sobering fast.
“I'm not so sure I want to now.”
The atmosphere instantly changed. Dorothy felt a slight chill run down her back.
Lucy, who obviously felt nothing, brightly piped up, “Really? Why?”
Christy's crystal blue eyes fastened onto Dot. “It's about Matt. And,” she broke the connection, “that stupid little bet we had.”
“Well, you won it,” Lucy grumped. “I didn't even get a chance at having a real date. And, Dorothy, you didn't even try, did you?”
“I hadn't gotten around to it,” Dorothy said warily.
“Yeah, I won the bet. Now I'd like to win Matt.” Christy gulped the rest of her coffee and quickly stood. “Anybody for another shot?”
“What do you mean, win Matt?” Lucy asked. “I mean, haven't you won already?”
“Sleeping with a man isn't the end all and be all, sweetie,” Christy called out from the kitchen, returning with a pot of hot water and the instant international coffee mix. “Hard as it may seem to imagine, there's more to a relationship than pure staggeringly satisfying sex.”
“Well, of course. I know that. I'm not completely...I'm not a virgin, you know.” Lucy was beginning to get the drift that something more was going on. Dorothy watched her carefully. But not as carefully as Christy.
“Christy, we're not your keepers,” Dorothy said evenly. “You can do anything you want with Matt...or anybody else, for that matter. What's on your mind?”
Christy stirred her cup. “I know you've got this special thing about Matt, Dot.”
“What? No, I—”
“And Lucy does too.”
“Well,” the young woman shifted on the sofa, “he is the most—”
“I want to win him fair and square.”
“Win him? There's nothing to—”
“Dot. Be honest with me. This is the biggest thing that's happened to me in a long time. Maybe it will pass. Maybe some other fantastic lay will come along. Maybe...I'll grow up one of these days, but I want us...no, I don't want it, but it's the only way it will ever work. I think we all should try for him, for a real relationship, and may the best woman win. I hope it's me. But if it's not, I want it to be one of you. I think I need a drink. Not something fake I've loved all my life.” She hurriedly padded back into the kitchen.
“What the hell is going on, Dot?” Lucy's eyes were fearful. Poor darling, Dorothy thought, her vision beginning to blur. Something was happening and she wasn't in control and she didn't like that. Dorothy didn’t like it either.
She felt her throat constrict. Her nose began to run. She was about to burst into tears, real howling, hurting tears and yet she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair. Not to her dead husband. Not to Beau. Not now. Not after all these years.
Christy emerged with a bottle of liquor and a water glass. “Oh, shit.” She quickly put them down and rushed to Dorothy, kneeling in front of her, clutching her hands, then springing up to sit on the sofa beside her and hold her friend close.
Dorothy erupted in tears. Pain. Searing pain flooded her.
Why the hell was she so…unstable tonight?
“It's okay, sweetie,” Christy cooed, rubbing the weeping woman's head, patting her shoulder, trying to calm the racking sobs. “Let it out. Have you ever let it out before? I didn't think so. We all gotta move on, Dot. Matt would be a great guy for you, you've known that for years, but, now I want him, but I want him fair and square. You want to fight for him? You want to win him? Then fight me for him.” She brusquely tipped Dorothy's tear-stained face up.
Dorothy was astonished to note through her blinks Christy's face was streaked with tears too. But her mascara hadn't run. It must be waterproof. It wouldn’t dare not be.
“What is going on? What's happening?” Lucy was on her feet circling the two women, distraught.
Christy threw out a welcoming arm. Dorothy held up a trembling one.
“Come here, honey. This includes you too. Not because I want it to, but because I think you might be better for him than either one of us. But I don't know, yet.”
Lucy clumsily joined the circle. “Is there anything I can do? I don't like to see you cry. I
've never seen either one of you cry before and I don't like it.”
Christy laughed, wiping her face with a knuckle. Her mascara streaked. It wasn't smear-proof at all. “Bless you, sweetie. We'll survive. We have before, haven't we, Dot? And we will again. But I want a good fight. I want to know you tried. The both of you. Tried hard. That's the only way it'll ever work for me.”
Dorothy found her voice through her ebbing sobs. She laughed. “You're so damn sure of yourself, aren't you, Christy?” She wiped her mascara-less face with her fingers and kissed the totally puzzled Lucy on the cheek. “You think you can just snap your fingers and he'll come running.”
Christy sat up, pulling herself together. Her beautiful face, even streaked, was set. She gently stroked Dorothy's cheek.
“Oh, honey...of course he will…he's a man.”
* * * *
“Boss!”
“Buddy, not now. I’m on the phone and the parts guy doesn’t have—”
“It’s Dorothy. She’s outside. She wondered if you’ve got time to say hello. She didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Dot? Outside? In the shop?”
“Yeah, she—”
Matt quickly stood, ending the phone conversation. “Do the best you can. Let us know what you find out. Talk to you later.” Hanging up, he quickly looked around. “Damn, the place looks like crap, I look—”
“She said she could catch you later.”
“No! I’m here. I’m fine.” He ran his fingers through his hair and smoothed the front of his flannel shirt, sitting. “I’m great. Send her in. No!” He leaped up. “Jesus. ‘Send her in’,” he berated himself. Crossing the office quickly, he passed Buddy and swung the door open.
For a moment, he and Dorothy stared at each other, faces blank.
Breaking into a huge smile of welcome, Matt reached for her hand. Sensing her slight recoil, he swept the hand back to gesture her into the office. “Hi, Dot. Long time no stop by to say ‘hi.’ Come in. Come in. Buddy, Dot and I need to catch up. Can you see to it nobody barges in on us for a while? Thanks.”