Love at Last Call

by M. Ullrich

  Berit had finished every night with the same sentiment, which had become a superstition of sorts. She felt the short phrase was the key to her success. Bellamy and Lou nodded to her before getting into their cars. Berit hesitated for a moment before getting out and running over to Bellamy’s car.

  She rolled down the window and looked at Berit in confusion. “What are you—”

  Berit cut her off with a long, languid kiss. She reached into the car window and slid her hand into the low neckline of Bellamy’s shirt. Berit squeezed Bellamy’s breast and toyed with her nipple but pulled back the moment Bellamy started to respond. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night. Now follow me home.”

  She climbed into her Jeep and smiled. Berit Matthews had a successful business, a gorgeous woman willing to indulge in attachment-free sex, and the unconditional love of the perfect dog. It was everything she could ever want, and she knew it without a doubt.

  Chapter Two

  Lauren Daly caught every red light on her way home from work Saturday evening. Most law firms were closed on weekends, but Baxter, Smith, Krupa, and Caruso felt differently about business hours. The bigwig lawyers, the old men with their names on the building, worked Monday through Friday. Their assistants and paralegals, however, worked whatever hours their bosses decided. Lauren spent her entire day going over witness statements and double-checking the chronological order of facts for an upcoming trial. Her eyes hurt, she had two paper cuts on one finger, and her feet were killing her from the pumps she was required to wear to meet the office’s dress code. She slipped off her high heel and flexed the toes of her right foot while holding down the brake pedal with her left. She could feel the engine stutter and want to die as she waited.

  Lauren sputtered her way through the quiet roads of Denville and dreamed of a day where her job would feel rewarding and she’d have a nice, comfortable home to rest her head at the end of a long day. But her stress level didn’t decrease when she turned onto her street. The closer she got to her house, the tighter the knot in her stomach grew. Her two-car driveway was already full, and the prime spot on the street was taken, leaving Lauren to park across the street from the small colonial house she paid more than half the bills for and still hated.

  She saw more than two people in the small front windows. Lauren cut the engine of her car before it could stall, and she sat back. She didn’t know who had company and why they’d invite people over without telling her. But did they ever? Lauren rested her head against the worn cloth seat. She was tired. Her bones nearly ached with exhaustion, but she knew she wouldn’t find peace within her home. Everyone would be loud and inconsiderate, as they always were. Moving in with Jorge, her best friend from college, had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. He was a blossoming engineer, and Lauren had secured a paralegal job at a prestigious law firm right out of school. Together they could afford to rent a two-bedroom home and live comfortably. Until Jorge fell in love.

  Lauren watched one of the shadows bounce about behind the thin curtain. Briana was an obnoxious, disrespectful leech. All of which Jorge was blind to. But Lauren couldn’t be too mad at Jorge, because their other roommate was her own fault. Rebecca had come to live with them after a mutual friend dumped her and kicked her to the curb. Lauren’s natural instinct to fix other people’s problems took over, so Rebecca had moved onto their couch, and then into Lauren’s bed, and eventually into Lauren’s heart. Two out of three went unbroken. Lauren counted the shadows of four people, which meant Rebecca wasn’t alone. Lauren sank down into her seat with a sigh.

  How did she get here? She felt unhappy and uncomfortable at home, her job with a bunch of chauvinistic old men wasn’t taking her anywhere, and her social life was hindered by friends pledging their loyalty to Rebecca. Only one person remained as a confidante to Lauren. She picked up her phone and dialed Amber.

  “What’s wrong?” Amber said after answering on the first ring.

  “Why do you think something’s wrong?” Lauren could hear the exhaustion in her own voice. She had to strain to speak at a normal volume.

  “You hate talking on the phone.”

  “Well, I’m too tired to text, so here I am.” Lauren sat in silence, leaving Amber waiting for more. “Rebecca’s not alone,” she said in a whisper.

  “Lauren, why is she even still there? You guys broke up for the fourth time three weeks ago. Whether or not you decide to get back together again, it’s not healthy for you to be living together.” Amber muttered a curse under her breath. “You need to kick her out.”

  “The only reason why she’s still here is because unlike Briana, she actually contributes to the bills. Not many, but some. Jorge and I are both buried in student loans, so the extra money helps.”

  “Where is she sleeping?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She’s still sleeping in your bed, isn’t she?”

  Lauren deserved every ounce of judgment she heard in Amber’s voice. “Sometimes,” she mumbled.

  “I’m not entirely sure what you just said, but it didn’t sound like a no.” Amber’s voice sounded far away, and Lauren heard rustling on the other end of the phone. “I’m getting dressed and you need to get ready. We’re going out.”

  Lauren moved to get out of the car, but every part of her body felt heavy. Her hand dropped away from the door handle. “I’m too tired to go out.”

  “I’ll meet you at the Dollhouse in an hour.”

  “Are your ears clogged? I just said I’m too tired to go out. I’m fried, dead, kaput.”

  “And you’ll rise from the dead to meet me in an hour,” Amber said with a deep chuckle. “Look, Lauren, the way I see it is you can either stay home with your ex-girlfriend and her date for the evening, or come out with me and at least scope out other fish in the sea. The right choice seems pretty obvious.”

  Lauren imagined the interior of the Dollhouse, and a sense of comfort already started to loosen her tense muscles. Something about the wood tones and cheery atmosphere welcomed her like a friendly hug every time she walked through the door. Lauren finally gave in. “I’ll go out with you under two conditions.”

  “Which are?”

  “The first round is on you, and you’ll pick me up because I’m almost out of gas.” Lauren swung her car door open, a new bounce to her step. An evening at the Dollhouse was the perfect way to remember why being single was so great. “I’ll see you in forty-five minutes?”

  “You have yourself a deal.”

  Lauren hung up as she approached the front door. The red paint was chipping around the doorknob, just another thing for Lauren to fix in her spare time and on her dime. She tucked a strand of her long chestnut hair behind her ear and opened the door. Loud laughter greeted her like an unwelcome party guest. Every head in the small living room spun to stare at her. Jorge was the only one smiling.

  “Tough day at the office?” he said from his spot on the sofa.

  “Always is.” Lauren didn’t look at Jorge when she answered. Her eyes were glued to the stunning blonde sprawled across Rebecca’s lap. “I’m going out.” She hurried away from the stomach-churning display and closed the door the instant she was in her room. Lauren was bothered by how much Rebecca’s happiness affected her. She hadn’t been in love with Rebecca since their first breakup, but seeing her with another woman under her own roof hurt, especially another woman who was so much better than Lauren.

  A timid knock rang out from the door. “Let me in, Lauren.”

  Lauren tripped over a pile of Rebecca’s clothes on her way to the closet. “I have to get ready, Jorge. I really am going out.”

  “Just let me in for a minute. I want to talk.”

  “I’m getting dressed, you’ll have to wait.”

  “I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count. I think you’ve actually desensitized me to breasts at this point. Two minutes and I’ll even help you pick an outfit.”

  Lauren smiled slightly. She looked down at her plain white dress s
hirt and back to her disorganized closet. What did she have to lose? She opened the door and said, “Two minutes. That’s all you get.”

  Jorge sat on the edge of her bed and kept his eyes on the different shirt options Lauren held up. He dismissed the first three button-ups she suggested. “I didn’t know Rebecca was having anyone over, and I should’ve warned you.”

  “Yes, you should have. What do you think, green or blue?” Lauren held up two flowy tanks, not really caring for either. “Fuck it, I’m wearing a T-shirt.”

  Jorge scratched at his beard and pushed his thick glasses up his nose. “A T-shirt won’t get you any.”

  “Who says I’m trying to ‘get any’? I don’t want to be home, and Amber invited me out.”

  “Why don’t you and Amber date already?”

  Lauren was slightly put off by the unexpected question. “Because.” Lauren pulled off her shirt and threw on the first plain black T-shirt she could find. She grabbed clean skinny jeans and finished the outfit with a pair of black heels that were stylish and comfortable in comparison to her work ones. “What do you think?” She turned to Jorge and held her arms up for appraisal.

  He tilted his head and shrugged. “Boring, but not terrible. You may get one number tonight.”

  “That’ll be one more than I usually get.” She looked herself over in the mirror. “Why am I taking fashion advice from you?” she said, looking at Jorge in the reflection. “Look at you.”

  Jorge tugged at his faded T-shirt and wiped his palm on the basketball shorts he wore every day.

  “I’m going to meet Amber outside.” Lauren grabbed her purse and started for the door.

  “Wait,” Jorge said. He grabbed her wrist gently and held Lauren’s hand. “I’m really sorry about not giving you a heads-up.” He apologized every time a detail about Rebecca slipped his mind, a common occurrence lately.

  Lauren placed her hand on his shoulder and smirked. “If you were really sorry, you’d get Briana to give us money so I could kick Rebecca out.” Jorge closed his eyes and hung his head. “That’s what I thought. I’ll be back later.”

  Lauren rushed from her room, keeping her eyes on the front door so she didn’t see Rebecca or the model entertaining her for the evening. Any confidence she had was shaky. When she opened the door, the fresh air held the promise of freedom. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before releasing it slowly. Getting out for the night was a good idea, and sitting with a good friend would be therapeutic. Lauren nodded and tried to shake away her anxieties as she stepped onto the stoop.

  “Lauren, wait.” Rebecca’s shrill voice caught Lauren before she was out the door. Lauren turned slowly and saw Rebecca bouncing toward her. Her inky black curls danced hypnotically.

  “What is it, Rebecca?” Lauren stood tall in spite of the desire to shrink into herself.

  Rebecca smiled sweetly, the same smile she always wore before sharing something new and exciting with Lauren. “I want you to meet my girlfriend, Savannah. She’s a receptionist for a lawyer, too, and I figured you two would hit it off.”

  Lauren’s brow creased. “I’m a paralegal, not a receptionist. They don’t even do the same—no,” she said, stopping herself and waving her left hand. “You know what? I have someone waiting for me.” Lauren looked over Rebecca’s shoulder to Savannah and put on a fake polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Savannah. Goodbye, everyone.”

  “Bye,” Briana called out from the couch. She hadn’t even acknowledged Lauren until that moment.

  Lauren felt her blood start to boil, and she rushed out the door. The chilly air bit at her bare arms. She needed a jacket, but she’d need to go back inside. She briefly weighed her options before hurrying to her car. Amber wouldn’t show up for another fifteen minutes, so she made a decision.

  Lauren pulled her phone from her purse and typed out a message. Had to escape. I have enough singles for a couple drops of gas. Meet you at the bar. She threw her phone on the passenger seat and pulled down her visor to check her appearance in the small, unlit mirror.

  Her hair hung listlessly to her shoulders and what little eyeliner she’d hurriedly applied that morning was faint enough to make her look more tired than she was. But her cheeks were rosy thanks to the spike in her blood pressure, which was one positive. Lauren stared at her reflection. She looked tired, and her brown eyes were duller than ever.

  Once upon a time Lauren had been confident and proud of who she was, but she had been beaten down as of late. Her spirit now matched her stodgy exterior. But Lauren refused to believe her former, fun self was completely gone. She could have a happier life, and maybe pushing herself to go out tonight would be the start of her self-improvement.

  Chapter Three

  Lauren hummed along as Poison played through the bar. She laughed humorlessly to herself and agreed that every rose did have its thorn. She refused, for the third time that night, to turn around when someone new walked into the Dollhouse. Amber kept insisting she “take a quick look” and “check her out,” but Lauren continued to remind her friend she was there to relax and be at peace with herself.

  “You sure picked an odd place to soul search,” Amber said over the rim of her highball glass. She finished the rest of her whiskey ginger in one long gulp and stared at the remaining cubes in the glass. “I want to know their secret. How do they make these so good?”

  The bartender nearest to them laughed. She looked at them and said, “Real ginger ale and quality rye whiskey. Nothing artificial or cheap. Can I get you another?”

  “Absolutely.” Amber pushed her empty glass aside.

  “What about you?” the bartender asked Lauren with a wink.

  Lauren looked from the other woman’s hazel eyes to her cocky smile and back to Amber’s empty glass. “I’ll, uh, have another Dolly, I guess,” Lauren said as inarticulately as possible. Amber looked from the bartender to her and laughed.

  “Coming right up.”

  Lauren ignored Amber’s amused expression. “Anyway, I’m not soul searching. I’m just trying to remember who I was before I wound up under a pile of debt, working for old men who require I wear the ugliest heels ever created.” Lauren stared off for a moment, watching as their bartender laughed easily with another member of the staff while pouring whiskey. Lauren couldn’t recall the last time she felt that relaxed. “I was someone completely different.” When she looked back at Amber, her friend had a new softness in her large dark eyes.

  “I know you were,” Amber said, covering Lauren’s hand with her own. “I’ll help you remember her, even if that means buying you enough drinks to help you forget who you are today.”

  Lauren cackled just as their drinks were delivered.

  The server wore a brilliant smile. “Here you go. Do you have a tab?”

  “Yes, under Amber, thank you.” Amber watched, her eyes fixated on the bartender as she walked away. Lauren leaned over to catch a glimpse of the tall, thin woman wiping her hands on the towel hanging from the back pocket of her black skinny jeans. “I love androgyny, don’t you?”

  “She’s okay,” Lauren said with a noncommittal shrug. Every single woman at the bar, and probably even the men, would agree the bartender exceeded the simple definition of attractive. But Lauren was feeling particularly stubborn and felt the need to go against the grain. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

  “Oh, I’m into it, deeply.”

  Lauren smiled at her friend, so feminine with her long, thick dark hair and naturally tan complexion. Amber was as Italian as New Jersey women got, and did she ever love her women boyish.

  “Amber, I think you’re drooling.” Lauren said and laughed when Amber chucked her chin. “Why don’t you leave her your number?”

  “Oh, please. Like she doesn’t get a dozen numbers stuffed in with her tips every night. And besides, I think you’re the one who caught her eye.”

  Lauren snorted.

  “I’m serious. Her attention was on you when she took our order, and she
’s been looking over here constantly. She’s definitely interested.”

  Lauren felt a fraction of her limp ego inflate. Amber’s kindness and support had been a rock to her over the years. Jorge’s earlier question came to mind. She grabbed Amber’s hand on the bar top again. “Maybe we should make a go of a relationship. We already have the supportive friendship, we just have to add sex.”

  Amber chuckled into her drink. Lauren’s face remained still. “You can’t be serious.”

  “What if I am? Would it be so terrible?” Lauren felt herself grow offended and defensive, a little dagger of hurt piercing her chest. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Lauren, listen to me,” Amber said, taking Lauren’s hand in a stronger hold and bringing it to her chest. “I love you, and I love our friendship. You’re funny and sassy and attractive, but we wouldn’t work.” Lauren tried to argue, but Amber shushed her. “We’re looking for the same thing, and it’s not each other.” Amber placed Lauren’s hand back on the bar and pushed it toward her drink. “Now drink and decide what you want to do about the hottie behind the bar.”

  Lauren hid her sad smile behind her glass. She didn’t feel disappointed or mad. Amber was right. In her heart, Lauren felt nothing more than platonic love for her friend, but loneliness and the sight of an ex-girlfriend moving on made crazy ideas seem possible. Crazy ideas like a hot bartender being interested in Lauren. “She can stare all she wants, she’s not my type.”

  Amber’s mouth fell open. “Not your type? Honey, she’s everyone’s type. What part of her aren’t you into? Are the dimples too much? Maybe it’s her perfect hair, you know, the way it falls into her gorgeous eyes.” Amber turned back, blatantly checking out their server. “Her tattoos are so unsexy, and the way she moves with such confidence makes me want to gag.”

  Lauren shook her head and said, “I’m not saying I don’t think she’s attractive, but she’s a bartender. I’m looking for someone with stability and a grownup job, not someone who flirts for extra money.” Amber’s pinched features startled Lauren. “What?”