“What’s wrong with surfing the Web?”
“I’m not sure what the whole story was, but he was visiting sites he shouldn’t have on company time.”
“Like porn sites?”
“Actually, he didn’t say. Anyway, the whole ruckus caused him to lose a promotion he was in line for, so he really has it in for this woman.”
“So, how do you fit into all of this?”
“I ran into an old high school classmate a while back. Her name’s Annie Harrison, and she’s really into computers and graphics and such, so I had this idea . . .”
Before Gina could finish, she caught sight of a short, fat man walking along 17th Street, headed straight for them.
Gina gasped and cleared her throat. “I’m going to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” Gina said, abruptly getting up from the table.
“Okay.”
As Gina lunged for the doorway, she heard Shirley’s voice behind her, talking to the rotund little man.
“Griffin? Is that you? God! It’s been forever,” Shirley called over the patio railing.
“Shirley Perry. Aren’t you looking fine.”
“You know it.”
Gina’s heart pounded wildly as she stood just barely inside the doorway and continued to listen to their conversation. How on earth did Shirley know Griffin?
“How are you?” he asked Shirley.
“I’m hanging in there. You? Still in the business?”
“Oh, yes. You know, you do something for so long, you get pigeonholed into it.”
“Not me. I don’t get pigeonholed into anything.”
“Well, glad to hear it, Shirley. Listen, it was great to see you again. I’m actually in a bit of a hurry. Got to run.”
“Okay. Nice to see you. Keep that chin up.”
As Griffin continued down the sidewalk, Gina came back to the table.
“Who was that you were talking to?” Gina asked, feeling flushed.
“Just some guy I used to work with.”
“Work with?” Gina said sharply, praying to God that Shirley wouldn’t tell her that she used to act in porn movies and slept with Griffin. She certainly wouldn’t put it past Shirley.
“I worked at this sleazy bookstore years ago, and he worked there too.”
“Doing what?”
“Me? I worked the counter and waited on customers. Griffin, well, he was an actor of sorts.”
“An actor?” Gina asked, relieved that Shirley had only worked the counter.
“He shot porn movies actually. They had a studio in the back of the store.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. He used to be really popular in the porn world. He might still be for all I know.”
“Why? I caught a glimpse of him. He’s not very attractive.”
“That’s why he’s perfect. They make porno movies to please men, not women, Gina. Guys love it when they turn on a porno flick and there’s some nasty fat guy getting it on with a hot chick. I guess they figure if someone like Griffin can get the girls, then there’s hope for them.”
“Interesting, I don’t remember you working at a sleazy bookstore?”
“It was years ago, and I didn’t stay very long. After I had been there for a while, they wanted me to start getting Griffin ready for his performances, if you know what I mean. You know, make sure everything was up and running. I passed on that little duty. Right before I left they got this woman—Brenda I think her name was—to man the counter and be Griffin’s fluffer or poofer or whatever they call it.”
“Is there anything you haven’t done, Shirley?”
“If there is, I’m working on it.”
“So what do people in the porn industry tell others they do for a living?”
“I don’t know. Most of them were pretty open about it—even proud. Although I remember Griffin used to tell his mother he worked for the Public Broadcasting System.”
“PBS?”
“He said he produced documentaries, which wasn’t actually a lie, I guess.”
“He sounds like quite a character. Well, at least you didn’t sleep with him. You didn’t. Did you?” Gina inquired, hoping to sound like she was just asking a casual question.
“Sleep with him? Gina, you saw him. He’s sweet, but come on. Who’d be pathetic enough to sleep with his fat ass?”
“I don’t know, Shirley,” Gina said, slightly shaking her head at the whole situation. Not only did she, in a drunken stupor, screw a porn star, but he ended up being an acquaintance of her mother’s. Oh, well, what was done was done, and Gina just needed to move on. She was just thankful that Griffin had used a condom when she slept with him.
Oh, my God! He did use a condom—didn’t he? Gina thought. She was so drunk that night, and had tried so hard to put the experience out of her mind, she honestly couldn’t remember.
Trying to Look Busy
It was nearly noon, and Gina was dead tired and trying to stay focused on her work. She hadn’t slept well at all the night before. She kept up a decent front through dinner with Shirley, but when she got home she began a full-fledged panic session. She sat on the sofa with Gomez curled up next to her, trying to replay that awful night with Griffin. She went over the evening step by step in her head—meeting Griffin at the bar, running into him again in the hallway, sitting with him on the sofa, moving into the bedroom.... As she reviewed the night, she could feel the emotions from that evening creeping up on her—the disgust she felt with Griffin on top of her, just wanting him off her and out of her apartment but not having the guts to say so until it was too late. She shuddered as she remembered crying in the bathroom—how she looked in the bathroom mirror with tears streaming down her face. If her life had ever hit rock bottom, that night was it.
As she sat at her desk, trying to look busy, she again traced the evening with Griffin but, as hard as she tried to remember, she just couldn’t recall if he had used a condom. The thought petrified her. He was an X-rated movie star, for heaven’s sake. Lord knows what kind of diseases he might be carrying.
She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t questioned it before, but she never really worried about things like sexually transmitted diseases in the past. She had always been careful, and subconsciously she must have just assumed they had used protection. Up until the Griffin incident, she could honestly say she had always been careful. Even after she and Peter had been dating for quite a while they still used protection, actually more at Peter’s insistence than hers. Peter always always always used condoms.
Gina found it impossible to concentrate on work. She knew she needed to see a doctor and have some tests run just to make sure she was okay. At least she knew she wasn’t pregnant.
It was so frustrating for her. The night with Griffin was a couple of months earlier, and she was drunker that night than she’d been in years. Damn! Why couldn’t she remember?
She couldn’t believe it. How did it happen? She took it seriously when they lectured about reproductive health in high school and college. She read the articles in women’s magazines and was constantly passing them on to Shirley. She even regularly bought Shirley condoms and insisted that she use them. If she was worried about anyone getting a sexually transmitted disease, it was Shirley, not herself.
Gina kept rearranging papers and clicking on her mouse in an effort to look busy while she had only one thing on her mind. She thought about going in the bathroom and sitting in one of the stalls to think. But the last time she went in there, someone hadn’t flushed the toilet after using it, and Gina didn’t feel like running into that again.
Oh, just what I need, Gina thought to herself as she watched Tammy come through the bank entrance with a stroller. Tammy had been out on maternity leave for several weeks and was due to start back in another day or two. As Tammy wheeled her infant through the lobby, Gina’s first instinct was to flee to the back room. She hated when new mothers brought their stupid babies into work to show them off. Gina was about to get up from her
desk, when Tammy called to her.
“Gina. Hey. Come see my little angel.”
Gina forced a smile and walked over toward Tammy and the baby.
“What do you think, Gina?” Tammy asked, eyeing her baby, who looked like a wrinkled alien with a big head.
Hmmm . . . add horns and a tail and you’ve got Satan. “Oh, he’s so precious.”
“She’s a girl,” Tammy said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. She’s adorable. You’re so lucky,” Gina said before adding, “Listen, I’ve got to make a phone call. I’m glad you stopped by. It was nice to meet the little one,” Gina fibbed. She had bigger things on her mind than a newborn with drool hanging off his chin—her chin.
The only way to get any peace of mind was to go to the doctor, but this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing she wanted to see her regular physician about. Gina knew the clinic where Linda volunteered had health programs for women. She could have easily asked Linda for the phone number, but that might lead to questions, so she got out the yellow pages, found the number for the Women’s Reproductive Health Center, and copied it onto a slip of paper. Liz was out to lunch, so Gina went into her office to make the call. As she reached for the phone, she felt very alone and desperate. She never had a clear picture of what her life would be like by the time she was nearly thirty years old, but whatever picture she did have, it certainly didn’t involve calling a public health clinic to get tested for a host of sexually transmitted diseases.
Rock Bottom
Time after time, Gina thought she must’ve hit rock bottom—joining a church singles group, overflowing a toilet at a party, sleeping with a porn star—but this had to be it—this had to be rock bottom. She was about to walk into the Women’s Reproductive Health Center in Fairfax. Of course, there were clinics in D.C., but Gina figured a place in the suburbs might be cleaner and attract a more upscale clientele—a more upscale clientele of women getting testing for venereal diseases or waiting to have abortions, that is.
“May I help you?” the receptionist at the front desk asked her as Gina closed the door behind her.
“I have a six o’clock appointment. Gina Perry.”
“Sure. Let me give you a few forms to fill out,” the woman said, handing Gina a clipboard and a pen. “Fill these out—front and back, and bring them back when you’re done.”
“Thanks,” Gina said, taking a seat and starting to complete the paperwork. Just as she was finishing it up, a middle-aged woman with a deep voice called her back to be examined.
“I’m Ellen,” the woman said. “How are you?”
“Good. Thanks,” Gina lied.
After Ellen gestured for Gina to follow her, they made their way down the hall and entered a small examining room.
The woman looked over Gina’s forms before asking, “You have some concerns about sexually transmitted diseases?”
“Um . . . yes . . . some,” Gina said nervously, embarrassed even to be talking about it.
“It’s okay, Gina. We see this all the time here. Try to relax,” Ellen said, noticing Gina’s obvious unease. “Are you having any symptoms you’re concerned about?”
“No, not at the moment, but I thought I’d better get checked out just to be sure.”
“Is there a particular incident that you’re concerned about?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve had unprotected sex with someone?”
“Um . . . yes,” Gina said, hating herself—hating herself for having to say yes to such a question. Her real answer should have been “I can’t remember,” but Gina figured it was easier to just say yes.
“Well, we’ll check you out for everything. We can do most of the tests today, but if you like, you can come back for the HIV test and do that anonymously. We do anonymous HIV testing twice a month.”
“HIV?” Gina said, startled. “The guy . . . the guy I’m concerned about wasn’t gay.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Ellen said. “But AIDS isn’t just a gay disease. We should still run the test, particularly if you’re not sure of his history.”
His history? Gina thought. His history includes sex with hundreds of women . . . all caught on film. “I don’t think he was into drugs either. Do you really think I need the HIV test?” Gina said, hoping Ellen would say no.
“There’s no reason to be alarmed, Gina. But just to be safe, yes, I definitely think you should have the test. We’re doing testing on Wednesday. Why don’t we draw some blood and run a few other tests today, and you can come back next week for the HIV test.”
“Okay,” Gina said, suddenly becoming overwhelmed with fear. HIV had crossed her mind, but it seemed so impossible until the nurse actually said it out loud. HIV couldn’t happen to her. She was a straight white girl. It was unthinkable.
But what if it’s not unthinkable? Gina thought to herself as she only faintly heard Ellen tell her to get undressed and slip into one of the gowns behind the door.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Ellen said, and closed the door behind her.
As the door shut, Gina felt an impending sense of doom come over her. She was scared, and not the kind of scared she got from watching Scream or The X-Files. This was a different kind of frightened. It was the way she had felt when she was a little girl and had gotten separated from Shirley at King’s Dominion and thought she would never find her again.
Now, sitting on an examining table, she felt like that scared little girl all over again. Then, just like she did when she was a six-year-old child lost at an amusement park, she started to cry. What had made her be so stupid as to sleep with Griffin? What was she doing in a women’s clinic? How was all of this happening to her? She was a nice girl . . . wasn’t she? Things like this were not supposed to happen to nice girls.
“Gina, you’ve got to hold it together,” she said to herself, wiping her eyes and getting up from the table. Things are going to be okay, she tried to tell herself as she grabbed the gown from behind the door. If only she believed they actually would.
Up to No Good
Peter was working on a report for his boss. It wasn’t due for a few weeks, but he had to stay at work late anyway, so he figured he might as well get a head start. It was after eight-thirty, and most of the staff had gone home, but Peter set nine o’clock as the time to head downstairs and see if he could snatch a picture of Cameron from her desk. He had run into her in the elevator a few days earlier. She actually smiled at him and asked how he was doing. Peter couldn’t believe her audacity. He said he was fine and politely smiled back at her. He didn’t want to give her any indication that he was the one behind the movers, and the phone calls, and fourteen “for sale” signs he and Shirley put in front of her house (once Shirley found out about the whole deal with Cameron, she was eager to offer her ideas and assistance).
When it finally hit nine o’clock, Peter shut his computer down, went to the kitchen to down his evening vitamins, and walked downstairs to the seventh floor. He stuck his head out of the elevator to make sure no one was around and stepped out into the hallway. As he walked toward Cameron’s cube, he wished he had asked Gina to get the picture. They couldn’t fire her. Wishing he thought of asking her earlier, he stepped into Cameron’s area and hit the jackpot. She had several photographs thumbtacked to the cube wall and a couple in frames on her desk. There were so many pictures, Peter surmised that he could probably take one of them off the wall and it would be days before Cameron even noticed. Then he remembered that it was Cameron Hartman he was thinking about, and her obsessively organized ass probably took inventory of them every day.
He disregarded the ones in frames on her desk and started reviewing the ones up on the wall. There were at least a dozen. Most of them were of her and what appeared to be her friends from college. In several of the pictures the women were wearing sweatshirts with Greek letters on them.
Gee, who would’ve guessed the little princess was in a sorority, Peter thought as he pulled down a picture of Cameron with one of
her friends. The picture was a pretty close shot, so the image of Cameron was quite large and vivid. He figured that particular picture would give Annie the most to work with. As he replaced the thumbtack, he heard someone clearing her throat behind him. It was Plant Lady.
“Plan . . . Doris,” Peter said, startled but trying to act relaxed and casual. “What’s up?”
“You, stealing pictures apparently.”
“What? Stealing? Don’t be silly,” Peter replied, trying to think quickly on his feet. “I’m just borrowing one. Cameron and I are good friends, and I need a picture to make her a birthday present.”
“A birthday present for Cameron? You and Cameron aren’t friends. Cameron doesn’t have any friends here.”
“Of course she does.”
“Peter, what are you up to? A birthday present? Is that the best you could come up with? No one likes the perky little bitch, so don’t try to convince me that you do.”
Peter had never heard Doris use the word “bitch” or anything half as harsh. “Honestly, Doris . . .”
“Whatever, Peter. I’ll just have to ask Cameron about your friendship with her myself.”
“No. No. This is supposed to be a surprise,” Peter pleaded, starting to sound desperate.
“So I guess you’re going to surprise her with this sudden friendship,” Doris said, laughing at Peter. “Peter, I was only hoping to get in on the action with you.”
“What action? Why?”
“A few months ago she reported me for spending a few minutes online in my horticulture chat room. Okay, it was more like hours, but one of my peace lilies was dying, and I needed advice.”
“So she got you too?”
“She’s in the doghouse with most of us around here. I’m not sure how she shows her face every day. I’ve worked for this company for eight and a half years and never had any problems, and now, thanks to her, my record is jaded. Mark said he didn’t even want to write me up, but Cameron wouldn’t hear of it.”
Figuring that making Plant Lady an accomplice might be the best way to keep her quiet, Peter told her about Gina’s idea. She was amused and offered Peter a picture she had of Cameron from an office luncheon, so he wouldn’t have to worry about returning the one he took from Cameron’s cube. After Plant Lady retrieved the picture from her desk, she wished Peter luck, and they walked out of the building together.
Girlfriends Page 24