Smiling brightly, Denise said, “If it isn’t the Two Musketeers! Not surprisingly together.” As she reached down to hug us, it occurred to me that almost everyone in my graduating class towered over both Bridget and me. I was usually the shortest person in any room, with the exception of children, but at least in the real world, there were other height deprived people walking the streets.
“How have you guys been?” Denise asked. “I’ve thought about you two a lot over the past few years.”
“We’ve thought about you too!” Bridget said nodding.
“Actually, you were the person we most looked forward to seeing tonight,” I said.
Denise put her hand over her heart and looked at us with bright eyes. “That’s so sweet. What are you guys up to? Do you both live in the city? I guess you guys have kept in touch all of this time?” She paused. “I’m sorry for all of the questions!”
“No worries,” I said. “I work at a law firm as a legal secretary and I also run a book blog. I’ll let Bridget tell you what she does. But, yes, we both live in the city and we’ve kept in touch all of this time.” I turned to Bridget with a smile.
Bridget proceeded to tell Denise what she was doing and then we directed the same questions back at her.
“I’m actually a mommy of two.” Denise said proudly. While Bridget and I tried not to look quite so shocked, Denise reached into her bag for her wallet and showed us her family holiday photo. I had to suppress a gasp of surprise when I saw Denise standing next to a very handsome man who, at least in the picture, looked almost nerdy with his short hair and glasses. He was a far cry from the burnouts she had dated in high school. Looking at the fair-haired little boy and girl toddlers in matching New York Mets T-shirts, I asked, “Are they twins?”
“Yes! Can you believe it? Me with twins. Who would have guessed?”
“Not in a million years,” Bridget said a little too certainly and then let out a hiccup. “Damn hiccups. Happens every time!”
Denise laughed. “Do a shot of bitters and suck on a lemon. Trust me.”
While Bridget asked the bartender to prepare Denise’s hiccup cure, Denise looked at me fondly. “A book blogger, huh? You always loved to read!”
“I still do,” I said.
“Word on the street is that Hannah Marshak, queen in her own mind, is publishing a book,” Denise said with a frown. “I’m surprised it’s not a memoir considering how self-absorbed she is.”
My chest felt weighted and I took another glance around the room. “Is she here tonight?” Since I hadn’t seen her yet, I held onto hope that she had decided to skip it. Wishful thinking.
Denise nodded. “How else do you think I know about her book? She told me.”
My eyes bulging, I said, “She told you?” I didn’t remember Denise and Hannah being friends in high school although I did recall that Hannah made sure to be friendly with anyone who could either help her or potentially hurt her. And if Hannah didn’t play her cards right with Denise and her friends, they would not have hesitated to yank out every curly brown hair on Hannah’s inflated head.
“She’s making the rounds telling everyone. She’s even talking to the little nerds from math club.” Looking at me questionably, she added, “You weren’t in the math club were you?”
Laughing, I said, “No. Did you think I was a little nerd?”
Denise shook her head. “I always thought you were cool as shit. Both of you guys. So, no, not nerdy but yes, little.” Glancing at Bridget who had the bartender in hysterics, she said, “Both of you were little. Always made me feel like a fucking giant.”
Before I could respond, I felt an arm on my shoulder, “Little Miss Long!”
I turned around to face Patrick Vaughn, quarterback of our school’s football team. I took him in from his flawless brown skin, to his chestnut eyes to his bulging biceps. “Patrick! Still gorgeous after all of these years.”
“And little Ms. Long. Still the perfect height for me,” he said making a reference to his joke that my head was parallel to his groin, making me the perfect height to give him a blow job without even kneeling. “I can’t believe I used to say that to you. I’m sorry. I swear, I’ve matured,” he said crossing his heart.
Laughing, I said, “For some reason, I was never that offended when it came from you. I’ve heard it many times since then and wasn’t quite as forgiving.” In fact, I had started a few fights back in college when my guy friends insisted on defending me against some douche bag making inappropriate comments about my height.
“I guess I got lucky. For a tiny chick, you always were a tough cookie.”
I stood taller and lifted my chin in the air. “Still am.”
“Let me buy you guys another drink. Or shots?” Patrick said.
From behind us, Bridget called out, “Shots!”
After reminiscing with Denise from our days in middle school, doing shots with Patrick and talking to some other people I hadn’t seen in forever, we were waxing nostalgic with Jonathan, Pete and Andy who had joined us at the bar, probably after smoking a doobie in the hotel’s outdoor courtyard, “The Yard.” Andy was refreshing my memory of him cheating off of me in Intro to Accounting junior year. Since Andy stood at 5’5” stretched out, people used to say that we’d make a perfect couple, but even though he was cute, our platonic feelings had always been mutual.
“I would have totally flunked if you hadn’t let me look over your shoulder,” Andy said.
“I honestly had no idea,” I said.
“You must have known on some subconscious level,” Jonathan said.
Ignoring Bridget who kept tapping me on the shoulder, I said, “Says the non-practicing Psych major.” I turned to Bridget, “What?”
She gave me a sidelong glance and whispered, “Two o’clock.”
I felt an ache in my chest as I realized it might be too late to meet up with Nicholas. “It’s two o’clock already?”
Bridget said, “No. Han…”
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you all night!”
I immediately recognized Hannah’s whiny voice and in what felt like slow motion, stood up a little straighter, planted on a smile and greeted her for the first time in ten years.
CHAPTER 11
HER NATURALLY CURLY DARK BROWN HAIR had been flat ironed within an inch of its life and fell past her shoulders and her thick bangs were meticulously cut right above her eyebrows emphasizing her topaz eyes and long black eyelashes. She had never been what I would describe as a “pretty” girl but she was “striking” and always knew how to play up her best features. That night she was wearing a strapless black bubble dress that was cinched at her narrow waist with a white belt and fell slightly above her knees to show off long, toned legs. Her black stiletto sandals probably gave her five inches of extra height and so even with my four-inch heels, she towered over me. I begrudgingly, although not surprisingly, concluded that she looked just as good if not better than she had in high school. Of course, I had no intention of telling her that.
I braced myself for the conversation I had been dreading for a month. I planted on a fake smile. “Hi, Hannah. Good to see you,” I said, almost choking on the words. “But why would you be looking for me all night?” I already knew the answer but wanted to watch Hannah perspire. Maybe her pit stains would seep through the designer dress she was wearing and I could call her out on it the way she had done to one of her pitiful wannabes at our 8th grade prom. I shook my head in memory of the girl whose lavender dress turned dark purple from the sweat she excreted probably from trying so hard to stay off of Hannah’s shit list. Of course, in typical Hannah fashion, it came across to others that she was merely concerned the girl was suffering from the flu, but I knew better.
Hannah smoothed out her bangs. “I figured you’d want to talk to me about my book, obviously.” Then she gave me a smile that on anyone else’s face might actually be described as “warm.”
My mouth fell open, although it probably should not
have shocked me that Hannah would assume I was anxious to speak to her and not the other way around. I quickly recovered on the outside while contemplating on the inside whether to play dumb or admit to knowing about her book. “Oh yeah, your book.” I brushed an imaginary piece of lint off of my dress.
Beaming at me, Hannah said, “So exciting, right? Back in high school, I never imagined I would write a novel, much less publish one.” She looked over my head and around the room. “Although I probably did have enough material. As the most popular girl in our class, I’m sure you can imagine the stories I could tell.” Hannah sighed and looked at me thoughtfully. “Well, maybe not. You didn’t really hang with my crowd.” She placed a hand on her chest. “In any event, I still can’t believe it.”
I wondered if she was trying to sound humble. Since she had no actual experience being humble on which to base her performance, it wasn’t working on me. Maybe it worked on Dumb Sheridan though. And so much for the proclamation on her website that her “childhood dream” was to be a writer. I knew that was bullshit. As she continued to beam at me in pride, I tried to hide my disgust and smiled again. “Yes. Candy at Novel Book PR asked me to review it for my blog.” I reached for the phone in my bag. Pretending to type a note, I said, “Which reminds me, I have to get back to her.”
Hannah looked at me expectantly. “Yes?”
I nodded. “Yes. I completely forgot to tell her I finished reviewing Jenna Weinberger’s book and want her to do a guest post on Pastel is the New Black. Have you read any of Jenna’s books? She’s amazing!” I grinned widely at Hannah.
Hannah shook her head and proceeded to examine her perfectly manicured nails. “I actually haven’t. But I was wondering if you…”
“Oh, you totally should. She is considered top notch in the genre. And her tweets are hilarious!”
Appearing at my side, Bridget handed me another beer. “I bought you another drink sweetie.” Then she turned to Hannah with a sour expression. “Oh, hi.”
Hannah smirked. “Well if it isn’t the best friend. I should have guessed you wouldn’t be far away.” Giving Bridget the Manhattan once-over, she said, “Your hair looks the same as it did in high school.”
Bridget nonchalantly ran a hand through her ruby locks. “I'll take that as a compliment. Thanks.”
Hannah shrugged and turned back to me. “So, about my book?”
“What about it?” I asked sweetly.
“I spoke to Erin.” Closing the distance between us as if to tell me a secret, she confided, “To be honest, I had no idea who she was when she friended me on Facebook but figured, what the hell. Not the first time that has happened. The more the merrier, right? Especially with the book coming out. After I accepted the request, she messaged me that her sister ran a chick lit blog but I didn't make the connection to you right away. She looks so tall in her pictures!” She paused while scanning me from head to toe. “Anyway, she thought my book would be perfect for your site. Sweet girl, by the way. So…” Hannah looked at me eagerly.
If she thought making nice with my little sister was the golden ticket to my website, she was as “wack” as Erin. Two could play at this game. Playing dumb, I said, “Oh! You want me to review your new book?” I twisted my ankles to get another look at my fabulous shoes. “Yes, Candy asked me and I told her I had to check my schedule. I have so many books on my TBR list,” I said apologetically.
Hannah leaned in and whispered, “Maybe you can push mine to the top of the list? As a favor? I mean we’ve known each other since we were only yea big.” Looking down at me, she covered her mouth with her hand. “I mean since we were children.” Matter-of-factly, she continued, “And I’m sure your readers will want to hear your thoughts on the book. Great shoes by the way.”
“Thank y…”
“Are they real?”
Responding for me, her nostrils flaring, Bridget snapped, “Everything about Kim is real. Which is more than I can say for some of your body parts!”
I put a hand to my mouth to cover the perfect combination of horror, amusement and gratitude I was feeling for my friend who had already made her way back to the bar. Holding back a laugh, I said, “I’m sorry. Bridget is a bit drunk.” I’m not really sorry at all.
Smirking, Hannah said, “Evidently. I’m surprised you guys are still so close.”
Feeling my muscles tense, I narrowed my eyes at her. “Oh? Why is that?”
Hannah shrugged. “I know you’re just a secretary, but at least you have your blog. Doesn't Bridget work at home or something?”
I momentarily felt short of breath as if someone had cut off the supply of oxygen to my lungs. “Bridget runs her own web design company and has an office in the luxury doorman apartment that she owns, yes. And I’m ‘just a secretary.’”
Looking at me with pity, she said, “Not surprising you’re a professional reader. Back in high school, you always had your nose behind a book. Although I probably shouldn’t poke fun at readers since I need you all to buy my...” Hannah stopped mid-sentence and gawked at me. “Oh, my God. I just remembered something.”
I took a gulp of beer and feigned boredom. “Yeah? What's that?”
“You wanted to be a writer too.”
I felt my face drain of color. “What makes you say that?”
“That poetry contest sophomore year. The winner was going to have her poem published in Self Magazine.” With a wry face, she said, “You showed so much promise. Too bad you didn’t win. You came in second though, right?”
“No, I didn't.” Thanks for reminding me.
Frowning, she said, “Sorry. I probably shouldn't have said anything. But your blog is great at least, right?”
I nodded. “Right.” I decided this conversation had run its course. “Anyway, I’ll let Candy know if I’ll be able to review your book as soon as I can.”
Her face noticeably brightening, Hannah said, “Great! Cut on the Bias is going to get a lot of publicity. I would hate for you to miss the boat.”
Oh no she didn’t! “Well, like I said, I’m pretty inundated right now with requests from editors, agents and the like. But I’ll see if I can fit you in.” I paused for a beat. “Since we’ve known each other since we were yea big and everything.” Wanting to guarantee I got the last word, I said, “It was great seeing you, Hannah,” quickly turned my back and walked over to Bridget.
Facing straight ahead, Bridget whispered, “Is she still behind you?”
I casually looked over my shoulder. “No sign of the Wicked Witch. Here’s hoping she flies far, far away on her broomstick.”
Turning to face me, Bridget flashed me a huge smile and held up her beer. Slurring, she said, “Karma’s a bitch, init?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Hannah had managed to get her passive/aggressive digs in but I had held my own. Studying Bridget, I said, “You okay?”
Shifting her body weight from one side to the other, Bridget said, “Yip. Why?”
“You’re slurring and slightly off balance.” I eyed the beer in her hand. “Maybe you should switch to water.”
Bridget defiantly took a long gulp of beer and said, “Haven’t had sex in a year!”
Guessing she probably had no idea how loud she’d said that, I looked around the room right in time to see Jonathan approaching us. “Okay then. Might not want to advertise that. And no one is forcing you to abstain! Let’s talk about this later, okay?”
Gripping the bar for support, Bridget said, “Now’s as good a time as an…” She stopped mid-sentence as Jonathan appeared in front of us. “Jonathan! What’s up, Doc?”
Jonathan’s brows crinkled together in concern. “You alright, Bridged?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, slipping onto the bar stool next to her . “Shot?”
Jonathan’s eyes met mine and he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about you guys, but I need some water bad.”
“Water schmater. Shot shot shot!” Bridget pounded her knuckles against the bar while Jonathan mo
tioned to the bartender and made a slashing motion against his throat. “Official party is almost over, but the lobby bar is still open. Why don’t we take a quick break and resume drinking there?”
Nodding in agreement, I said, “Sounds like a plan. Round of water all around and we’ll pick up the drinking at the Grand Bar. Sound good, Bridge?”
“Whatever,” she mumbled.
I glanced at Jonathan. “Can you keep her company a second? I’ve gotta use the bathroom.”
“Can’t she go with you?” Jonathan looked at me pleadingly.
I blurted out, “No!” but quickly composed myself. “I have to make a phone call and it’s, er, kind of private. What’s the big deal?”
“What if she throws up?” Jonathan looked horrified at the thought.
“She won’t,” I promised. Bridget had always been a next morning puker.
Jonathan made a gesturing motion towards the exit. “Fine. Go. Be fast!”
I hurried to the ladies’ room to make sure my hair and makeup had held up, smiling at ex-classmates I passed along the way. When I faced my reflection in the mirror, I was pleased to note that the light spritz of Big Sexy Hairspray I borrowed from Bridget had kept every soft curl in place. And the primer I used on my eyelids had kept my smoky eye shadow smudge free. I looked great and felt even better remembering the defeated look on Hannah’s face when I repeatedly refused to confirm or deny whether I’d review Cut on the Bias. I might always have my nose behind a book, but it wouldn’t be her book. “Miss the Boat” my ass!
It was now or never. Locating Nicholas’ last text on my phone, I wrote, “Having post-reunion drinks at the Grand Bar. Interested?” I didn’t particularly like the idea of introducing Nicholas to my friends when I barely knew him myself, but I didn’t know the neighborhood well enough to suggest another bar. I just hoped Jonathan would leave early and Bridget wouldn’t say anything stupid.
To avoid staring at my phone waiting for a response, I popped a breath mint in my mouth and reapplied my lip gloss. By the time I put the gloss back in my bag, my phone beeped a text message from Nicholas. “Be there in a few.” I took a deep inhale, let out a slow exhale and willed my heart to stop beating so damn fast. Apparently alcohol was not enough to dull my reactions to the very thought of spending time with Nicholas outside of the office.
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