Kate leans over and attempts to peel me out of bed. Without much luck, Lori joins in and before I know it, I'm trying my damnedest to keep my balance on the ground in front of the bed.
My clothes are definitely being torn from my body right now, and I'm seconds from falling backward onto my bed, which would make this really uncomfortable situation way worse. They're groaning as they struggle with my sweatshirt, and I'm still not helping. I'm literally standing here like a mannequin, letting my best friends strip me out of my comfortable clothes.
By the time I'm in my panties and bra, Lori has the itty bitty dress pulled over my head. "I'm not going tonight," I inform them. I'm staying here and climbing back into bed and getting the best night sleep of my life.
"Nope, you're coming," they say in unison. Lori takes my hand and drags me over to my vanity table where she pushes me down to the seat, giving me the face to face view of how incredibly horrible I look right now. I actually think my skin might be green. Is that possible?
Kate swings my seat around as Lori rolls in her computer desk chair, placing it right in front of me. "You're wasting your time," I groan. My words are going unheard. Why do they want me to go with them so badly tonight? What the hell is in it for them?
Lori sits down on her chair, pulling her knees in between my knees. She grabs a caddy from under my vanity, which I didn't see until now. It's not mine. It's hers. I don't need to wear her makeup too. This is absurd. "Close your eyes," she demands.
"No," I respond, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Fine, be that way." A small black wand covered with mascara moves toward my eyeball like a dagger. Oh, she needs my eyes open for this one. I'll close them. Closed. Can't get that shit on me now. Just as I thought I might have won, I feel the tip of an eyeliner pencil outlining my closed lids. Mother fucker. At the same time, lipstick is being painted on my lips. When the pencil is no longer resting on my eyelids, I flash my eyes open, glaring at Lori, who is way too close to my face. "Suck it in."
"Oh my God, could you be any ruder? I'm a size two, unlike your negative zero self, but don't tell me I have to suck it in."
"Your cheeks, Syd. Your cheeks." I don't do as she's telling me to do but she applies the bronzer anyway. I don't wear this much makeup. I'm usually not supposed to since I work at an OB, and they ask us to keep the makeup and jewelry on the lighter side. And going out doesn't happen often, so makeup is something I normally skimp on.
"She already looks human, it's amazing!" Kate says.
"What are you insinuating," I growl.
"Nothing, you don't need makeup to look good, but you do always look kind of tired and now you look sort of colorful and full of life...I'm digging myself a hole, I'm sorry. You really don't need makeup, but it's fun, and you look so pretty!" Kate's cheeks are almost maroon as she tries to come back from her insult. Not red enough to stop her from moving behind me pulling at my hair. "Your hair is so gorgeous. Do you know how many people would kill for it?" I hate my hair. Uneven curls starting halfway down the back of my crown, dangling loosely into barrel curls. I was teased when I was younger, referred to as Shirley Temple. Not my favorite thing to be called. It was a cute kid and all, but no teenager wants to be referred to as a child actress with doll-like curls.
Thankfully, she doesn't do much with my hair except pin half of it up, letting the rest of it hang loose. "Are we done now? I'd like to go back to bed."
"Okay," Lori says, closing up her makeup caddie. "You look amazing." She turns my chair around, placing me back in front of my mirror. I'm forced to take another look at my reflection, finding that I don't look so bad. Actually, I don't look like me, so that could be why.
"Sydney," Kate, whines a little. "You have been so miserable for the past few years, and it's making us truly sad for you. You won't talk to anyone, and you just sit in your room and sulk whenever you're not working. We decided that we aren't going to sit around and watch you waste away during the remaining years of your twenties. You can fight us all you want, but we're pulling you out of this funk, and we're doing so with one of the hottest bachelors who lives in this town." I catch Kate's reflection in the mirror. There is sympathy in her big doll-like eyes. She's the definition of good-looking with her long legs, narrow waist, and the tan of a Greek goddess. She's like a quarter Brazilian, but her skin looks like it's a hundred percent. Though, her facial features look more Irish than anything else. It sounds like a weird combo, but I live with Miss Connecticut 2008. What reason do I really have to try to look good around here? Oh and then there's Lori, a blonde-haired, green-eyed bombshell with the whitest, straightest real teeth I've ever seen in my life. It's almost a joke that she was Miss Massachusetts in 2009, but the joke part is that I'm living with two beauty pageant winners, trying to feel good about myself. It wasn't some weird coincidence that the became friends since they met at one of those beauty pageant retreats, instantly became bff's, and went to college together. They needed a third roommate for the type of dorm room they wanted, and that's where just your average Sydney fell into the picture. Ten years later, here we are. Not much has changed.
"Thank you for caring about me, and thank you for sitting by my side all of these years while I deal with this shitty hand I was dealt," I say as a peace offering. Still not going tonight.
They're both laughing at my shitty pun, but I am grateful for the friendship they have offered me over the years. I just can't keep up with them, and it's embarrassing being around them. I feel like I look ten years older than the two of them and I feel twenty years older. I'm lame, and I don't like to do anything fun. Well, maybe I would like to do something fun, but I'd either have severe stomach cramps or worse, making whatever good time I was trying to have, over. That's not so much fun. Unless, Channing's hand is on my ass while it's happening. That might be okay.
That's gross. I must still be sedated.
"Drink this," Kate says, handing me a glass of wine. "It'll make you feel better."
"Wine will..."
"I got the organic stuff, it's supposed to be better on your stomach," she argues.
While I think it's a load of crap, if they're seriously forcing me to go out tonight, I do need wine first.
I down the glass fairly quickly, leaving a sharp red lipstick stain on the rim. "Shoes," Lori says, slipping four-inch pumps onto each foot. She pulls me out of my seat and I immediately feel the effects of slugging the wine. It's not the worst feeling in the world, though.
"We have to be there in twenty minutes, so look alive, pretty," Kate says. I stumble at first, making my way across the room to my full-length mirror, checking out all sides of my hot mess, which doesn't look like such a mess right now. "Your ass looks seriously amazing in that dress."
My arch nem-ass-es, you mean?
"Can you both just promise me this won't be a close the bar down kind of night? I was sedated today. I did have my ass probed by a doctor who looked like Channing Tatum, and I have to work at nine tomorrow morning."
"Channing?" Kate asks. "Did I miss something?
"We'll fill you in in the car," Lori tells her. "And we'll compromise at a one o'clock curfew. I have a meeting at eight tomorrow morning."
As we walk out of the apartment, Kate is staring at me with wonder. "Did Channing Tatum probe you today? I'm not sure I can wait until we're in the car to hear this?"
"Nope, he grabbed her tit," Lori says through laughter.
"This is why I tell you two nothing," I groan. "It was an accident, and it wasn't Channing Tatum. Just his twin brother."
"Seriously?" Kate asks, being completely sincere.
"Yup," Lori answers for me.
"His brother lives here in Portland? I didn't even know Channing had a brother. Did you?" she asks Lori.
Lori, with her sinful grin, continues to play along. "Yeah, you didn't know he lived here. I've seen him before. He usually jogs down by the waterfront mid-morning."
"Holy crap," Kate continues,
"And he was fondling you today?"
"Yep," I sing.
"You should be with him tonight, not Liam Walsh." Who the hell is Liam Walsh?
"Kate it's fine. She can meet Liam tonight. Options are always good, anyway," Lori pipes in.
"Um no, not when a Tatum is involved. You know the rules," Kate says.
Rules? This conversation has already taken a turn for the worse, and we're just now stepping into the car. It's going to be a long night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
We step inside of the yacht restaurant and walk directly by the lone restroom. Mental note on the restroom situation... I'm getting the feeling this is going to be a repeat of my date with Officer Rodriguez. It's dark when we descend the steps into the bottom portion of this boat, yacht, whatever the hell it is.
When we reach the bottom, three men are sitting around a large round table, larger than I would have thought would fit down here, but this place is actually huge, and there are several other tables filled with other beautiful looking people. I suddenly feel like I'm at one of those beauty pageant retreats these two often attend.
"Gentlemen," Katy says, moving past me toward the table with the three men. Who all look like they fell out of some men's fashion magazine. I'm pretty sure the middle guy's watch costs more than my life is worth.
This is awkward. Lori and Kate give each man a kiss on the cheek before pulling chairs out in between them, leaving me here standing like a tool.
With nervous laughter rumbling through my gut, I clench my buttocks, fearful of what might come along with the nerves. Better just be nerves. "Ya okay aren't ya?" one of them asks through a thick Irish accent. Oh God. Men with accents, is there anything hotter? "There's a seat hea ya know."
Instantly attracted to his accent, I take a step forward, feeling a gust of air escape from between my cheeks. Please no. This place is big but not big enough. It's muggy under here and stale, and if there is a scent, it will fill the air.
I'm moving toward him like a waddling duck, quacking out of my bottom, which is not covered by anything more than a thin layer of panties. So far, the air is clear, and I quickly make my way over to Mr. Ireland with my thighs still clenched tightly together. Hopefully, he doesn't notice.
But I'm pretty sure he does. His nose crinkles a bit as his head jerks around, looking past me and then in the opposite direction. "Ya smell that?"
"Uh no," I say, sounding totally guilty. My brows are sewn together, forcing a look of confusion. "What do you smell?"
He laughs a little. "Smells like a stinky faht." I catch the look on Kate's face, only because she's glaring at me, like I purposely let one rip. I told them I had a fucking colonoscopy today, and this is an unfortunate side effect.
"Oh," I laugh. "I don't smell anything."
"One who can't smell it, dealt it," he says, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. Is he accusing me? It takes a good long second before his focus locks back with mine. "Just foolin' with ya." Thank God. Ugh. This can't happen again tonight.
But it can...
I've had the colonoscopies too many times and I know the side effects--my side-effects anyway. A little sore and a lot of gas I can't seem to control. I'm scared to even eat anything tonight. God knows that could just make things a whole lot worse.
***
And it did.
***
I did know what lettuce causes, maybe some people don't, but as I was picking my poison, I didn't realize I was picking the very worst poison of all. The muscles in my ass ache from trying to keep it all together, and it's almost like air is just sifting from my rectal vents. "Do you smell that?" Kate asks.
"It kind of smells like a skunk or something," Lori says, scrunching up her nose. I squeeze my legs together a little tighter. Why the hell can't I stop this from happening?
"Dude," Liam says. "That shit is nasty. That is nawt a ripe skoonk. I work with construction werkers every day nah and I smell stuff ya wouldn't believe. What ya smellin' right nah is plain old stanky ass." It's not old. I'm not old. But my ass, it smells like ass.
The look on Kate and Lori's faces as they slowly draw to the conclusion of what exactly is going on right now, is making this all worse. I'm going to end up embarrassing them while they're trying to sign deals with these guys who honestly appear to be a little different than what I expected. Liam is a construction worker by day and a photographer by night, the other two have similar blue-collar day jobs and photographers by night who look like they belong to the rich under thirty group. Makes no sense. Maybe I'm just missing something.
"Well, I need to use the ladies room real fast," Kate says. "Sydney, want to join me?" If I stand up, there's no telling what will happen right now. I'm just thanking the heavens above that I didn't wear white. Does gas stain? Are these actual thoughts rummaging through my head right now.
I stand up, carefully, grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder. "Aye, I can watch ya bag for ya now, you don't have to loug it all the way into the loo," Liam says.
With a nervous giggle--bad fucking idea, Sydney...more gas escapes the crevices of the unknown black hole, and I drop my purse and speed up my pace toward the bathroom. A bathroom on a boat. I'm guessing there isn't enough room for two in there.
"Are you okay?" Kate asks.
"Nope. Just like I told you I wouldn't be."
"It was the lettuce, wasn't it?" she asks quietly.
"Maybe that or maybe it was the camera I had shoved my asshole this morning." I realize by the look of her face that my volume was a little louder than it should have been. Damn wine.
"Um, okay, so, you're stinking up the whole place and it's only getting worse at the time goes by."
Okay, well, do you want me to leave? I gladly will," I ask.
She laughs nervously, "Well, the thing is, unless you're a really good swimmer, you can't."
"What?"
"Have you not felt us moving for the past hour?" she asks.
I look to the left where the stairs lead up to the main deck. Is that what it's called? I'm clearly not a boat person. I take the three steps, bringing myself to a wind tunnel and a spraying mist of ocean water. Fuck me. Just, fuck me. I return down the steps a little slower than I went up. "What the hell am I going to do? What if I get sick, like I do a lot? I never would have agreed to this--no, wait, I never DID agree to this, Lori. Now look what kind of situation I'm in?"
She pulls me closer to the bathroom, probably trying to get me out of hearing range from the people around us. "Get a grip. You haven't shit yourself yet. We just need to find a way to plug up the gas leak."
"Get a grip? Gas leak? Is this a joke to you?"
"I have an idea," she says, pulling me into the bathroom. Oh great, a Kate idea, I'm sure this will go over better than the time she wanted to go on a wine and parasailing adventure. Yeah, that was great.
As we both squeeze into the single stall bathroom, she pulls a tampon out of her purse. "I don't have my period, Kate. I have stomach issues, remember?"
"I do, and this will work."
"What will work?"
"Do you want me to show you?" she asks, laughing, taking way too much pleasure in this.
"Show me what?" I continue.
"Well, squat, spread, insert, adjust and I guess in this case, squeeze. Do you know I've heard this can actually feel...good...if you know what I mean?"
I'm looking at her like she just told me she wasn't from this planet. "You think I'm going to shove a tampon up my asshole?"
"I do," she says. "People do it all the time, I promise." She's lying.
"Have you?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.
"Absolutely, just not for the same reasons."
"What the hell? Why would you do that?"
"It's a long story I'd rather not get into this second, especially with you making this tiny little-confined space smell like a rotten chicken. Please, for the sake of everyone on this boat, just rectum-fy
this situation."
She places the tampon down in my hand and slips out the door, leaving me standing here, staring at the metal lined wall, my fuzzy reflection, and fear tattooed across my face. I haven't had sex in a very, very long time, and nothing has ever gone up my--well...with the exception of this morning and any other lovely appointment I've had like that one. Oh God. Am I really considering this? I am. I am definitely considering this. I wonder if the air can still seep out around it? That's possible but maybe not as much.
I close my eyes as if I'm about to do the most horrible thing I've ever done to myself.
Oh, wait.
I am.
Um. This isn't working.
I shove a little harder, feeling a burn form around the thick cotton. Nothing ever has a problem coming out, so why the hell won't it go...oh, there.
I catch the look on my face in the mirror, and I'm pretty sure it's a look I never want to see again. Horror. That's what this is. I just put a tampon up my ass and I don't know if I can stand up straight right now--never mind sitting back down with this situation.
A knock at the door forces my posture to straighten. "They're going to think you're doing a number two in there, Syd." I want to laugh with anger, but I don't want to laugh because I don't know what might happen right now. What if I can't get this back out later? "Sydney, come out now!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
So the tampon thing, not the worst idea in the whole world. I was able to keep my shit together for the rest of the night. Yup. Making jokes at myself. Step one toward recovery. I'm actually enjoying the night, while also feeling strangely aroused every time I shift positions in my seat. I have not felt anything remotely close to the sensation in ever, really ever since that back end is a no go for me, but regardless of that, nothing has felt good in years. That needs to change. Maybe it's the wine speaking. The three...no four, or five glasses of wine. Does that equal a bottle? A full bottle? I think so.
"It was so nice to meet you all tonight," Lori says, standing up with her purse clutched under her arm. "I'm thrilled that we'll be seeing so much more of you now that we'll be teaming up."
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