Quinn
“What’s up with you?” Harry panted as we ran side-by-side. “Why are you so quiet? You’re freaking me out, man. Say something.”
I looked over at him as sweat dripped down his red face. I didn’t believe him when he said he was out of shape, but from the look of him at this very moment, he was right. He didn’t look unfit. I think that was where people got it wrong.
A larger person can be fit, and a slim person can most definitely be unfit. Harry was definitely the latter. People think being thin automatically puts you in better health. It’s all a misconception, really, and a sad one at that.
I puffed out a laugh. “You need a break, bro? You’re turning a shade of red I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.”
He scowled, swinging his fist clumsily at me. I dodged it with a hearty laugh and he muttered, “Yeah, yeah. Tease me if it makes you feel better.” Wiping sweat from his forehead, we ran on as he gestured to his entire body. “You’re just jealous you don’t have all of this.” He grinned then. “Jealousy is a fickle emotion, Quinn.”
My feet slowed, and as my quick stride turned to a walk, I felt the burn in my legs. Sometimes it’s harder to stop than to keep going. Huffing and puffing, I placed my hands on my hips and walked on the spot, trying to ease the stinging through my legs. I chanced a look at Harry, who had doubled over, hands to his knees, looking about ready to pass out. He looked up at me. “How far was that?”
I fiddled around with my fancy wristwatch fitness do-dad. “Two miles.”
His eyes held a look of disbelief. “That’s
it
? Two freaking miles? I feel like I’m dying, for Christ’s sake!” He groaned. “Pathetic. Completely pathetic.”
I straightened then slapped his back. “A few more weeks of this and you’ll see; it’ll get easier.” He gave me a look and I pinned him with my stare. “What’s wrong with you? This shit used to come easy. You worked out more than I did!”
Harry’s face lost all expression, so when he muttered, “I hate my job,” I was definitely surprised.
“What?” I asked in disbelief.
He walked along the footpath and stated once more, “I hate my job.”
Immediately, I thought of his sudden need to get back into shape. “Wait. Are you telling me you’re thinking of getting back in the game?”
He shrugged lightly, but avoided my scrutinizing gaze. “Maybe. So what?”
“So what?” I gaped. “So
what
?” I stood on the spot, shaking my head in incredulity. “What brought on this sudden change?”
I sat on the closest bench. Harry followed suit. “I’m done with bartending. Hell, I fuck all these women, night after night. It doesn’t mean a damn thing. I make them come every damn time. I use my old tricks, every single one.” He looked into my eyes meaningfully. “I work them like an escort, Quinn.”
“But what you told me…about that woman…” Harry trained his eyes on his feet, his jaw ticking. I uttered a hushed, “You said you loved her, bro.”
He barked out a harsh, uncharacteristic laugh. “Yeah, well, loneliness can do that to a person.” He looked out into the distance, all but scowling at a happy couple walking hand-in-hand. “Forget everything I said about love. I don’t even know what love is.” A poker face took over and he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “May as well get paid to do something I love.”
“Meaningless fucking is something you love?” I asked slowly, skeptically.
“Sure,” he replied without meaning, then added on a whisper, “Why not?”
It was close to midnight when I picked up my phone and dialed the number.
She answered a soft “Hey, you,” and I knew I hadn’t woken her. I was glad that the previous night’s adventure hadn’t embarrassed her, but something was off.
“Hey, yourself, Wonder Woman.” I paused, adding a mildly concerned, “I didn’t expect you to be up. What’s wrong? You sound sad.”
Her voice shook in amusement. “Why would you call if you thought I wouldn’t answer?”
I walked into my room and out onto the open patio overlooking the ocean. “I laugh in the face of conventionality.” She chuckled and it soothed my need to offer her some form of comfort. “What’s wrong, Maya?”
She sighed. “I had a run-in with my boss.”
“Really? Tell me about it.”
“It’s such a long story, Quinn. I can’t be bothered reliving it.”
I put on a mock-pout. “And I thought we were friends.”
She sighed and I knew she was rolling her eyes at me. “Okay, fine. My screeching banshee boss made today interesting. So she calls me into her office and tells me without blinking a lash that if I ever screw her husband, she’ll ruin me.”
My mouth gaped. “What? She can’t do that!”
Maya scoffs, “Oh. It gets worse.”
“
Worse?
” I question.
“Worse,” she confirms. “Yesterday afternoon, as I was leaving the office, my other boss stopped me, asking to use my pass. I mean, he’s my boss! Of course I’m going to let him into the building. So I go up with him while he looks for whatever it is he’s looking for then we both leave. That’s it!” She sighs. “I got called into her office today. She almost fired me.”
She sounded so wounded that I wanted to reach into the phone and cradle her in my arms until she felt better. “I’m sorry, Maya. That blows. What now?”
“Well,”—I heard her smile—“I told her if she was going to punish me for something I hadn’t done, I’d get lawyers involved.”
My brows lifted and my lips pursed in pride. “No shit? That’s some quick thinking, girl. Good job. I hope she backed down.”
“She did, but something tells me this is far from over.” She paused only to add quietly, “It’s like she sucks the life out of the environment around her. She’s so bitter that she wants everyone else to be bitter so her bitter ass will have company.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed then added teasingly, “You sound stressed. You know what you need?”
She cut me off with a warning, “Quinn.”
My shoulders shook in silent laughter as I added innocently, “I was going to say a bath! Geez, woman. Get your mind out of the gutter. Filthy, dirty girl.”
“I should probably go to bed.” I’d heard that smile a lot. I desperately wanted to see it.
Three more days.
I absently scratched my arm. “Yeah, me too. Night, Maya.”
Her soft yet husky voice was sure to give me good dreams. “Night, Spiderman.”
I slept peacefully that night, and good dreams were had.
Mia
Thankfully, Friday passed without incident.
Ella and I made excellent progress on the desperate and dateless ball. It was exciting to know this would be my first event as an event manager. It meant I would be in charge and on my lonesome with my headset and clipboard. Ella had already given me the rundown and told me if I get stuck that I could call her any time of the night. The event was to officially last until midnight, but the radio station wanted to keep it going until two a.m. Addison had already told me I would only be on the clock until the clock struck twelve¸ but gave strict orders that I was not to leave the premises until the last patron had exited.
That was fine by me. I didn’t mind sticking around. I dragged my tired ass home around seven p.m. and didn’t even bother stopping home before I knocked on the apartment door across from me.
Bill answered smiling then, taking one look at me, his smile fell and he raised his arms, somehow knowing exactly what I needed. I wrapped my arms around his waist and his strong arms held me. He stroked my hair and without removing himself from around me, walked us inside and shut the door.
Terry, who was cooking, called out from the kitchen, “Wassup, ho?” Too busy basking in the warmth of Bill’s body, I did not answer. Which got me a barked, “Yo! Ho!” When I hadn’t answered a second time, a hand at my back and a softly spoken, “Ho?” by my ear made me bury myself deeper into Bill.
“I hate my boss,” I mumbled into his tee.
Terry wrapped his arms around the both of us in a group hug, surrounding me in friendship and support. My chest grew warm and I basked in the glow. Ten minutes—and a Cosmo—later, I sat on the sofa, snuggled up to my two favorite guys. We watched ridiculous reality TV shows while Terry fed me expensive chocolates.
Not so bad as far as Friday nights go.
Incessant knocking at my door woke me, along with the yelling, “Get your ass up, Mia!”
Without acknowledging the knockee, I threw a pillow over my head and groaned. But the knocking did not cease. Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled out of my bedroom and unlocked my front door. As soon as the latch clicked over, the door was thrown open and Terry strode inside. On the way, he handed me a glass of something frothy and purple. I didn’t even want to know.
“Drink up, sugarplum,” he muttered, careful not to touch anything as he looked around my apartment wearily, as if being unfashionable was catching.
“What…”
are you doing here?
“What…”
is the time?
“What…”
is the purple sludge in the glass?
There were so many
what
questions, so little time.
He leaned against my kitchen counter. “Well.” Then looked down at the counter with wide eyes and thought better of it, straightening and wiping at his t-shirt-covered hip. “I know you would never ask, and after you said you were going out tonight, I thought I’d help you choose an outfit before I went to work.” He smiled graciously, leaned forward, and whispered, “You’re welcome.”
I wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or not. Hell, I didn’t know if Terry knew if that was sarcasm or not.
I opened my mouth to respond, but my mother always said if you don’t have anything nice to say, zip your lip. He placed his fingers under the glass in my hand and lifted it to my mouth. “Drink. Protein. Good.”
Lifting it to my nose, I sniffed. Then I sipped. It wasn’t bad. I sipped again.
He rounded me and walked toward my bedroom, muttering, “Bedroom this way? Great! Let’s do this.”
Terry made his way through my room, pushing open the curtains. As sunlight streamed in, I fought hissing and hiding under my bed. Then Terry turned. His horrified gasp scared the crap out of me. Now awake, I jumped and yelled a petrified, “What?
What?
”
He covered his mouth with the fingers of both hands and mumbled, “Oh, honey.” He sounded disappointed. “What is that?”
I glanced around my bedroom and shrugged. “What?”
He pointed firmly to my bed. “
That!
” He made his point by slowly taking the three steps toward my bed and picking up my floral duvet with his fingertips.
I answered slowly, as if he were asking a trick question. “My comforter.”
He looked down at the retro, old school floral print before asking a mocking, “Are you an eighty-year-old spinster who quilts on the weekends down at the ‘ole community hall?”
Just to peeve him off, I crossed my arms over my chest, careful not to spill my glass of sludge, and replied a defiant, “Yes.”
His eyes narrowed and he looked me up and down before declaring, “You look good for your age, Mia.” Then he turned his face from my bed and stated, “Just…no! We are going to fix that.”
Throwing open my closet, he glanced at the clothes inside then asked, “Where’s the rest?”
I sat on my bed with a sigh, sipping my sludge. “Rest of what, Terry?”
“The clothes, Mia.” He turned slowly, his eyes crazy-like. “Tell me you have more clothes.”
I didn’t have an answer for that, so I didn’t answer. Instead, I sipped my berry protein shake and blinked up at him. Letting out a string of curses, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. Placing it at his ear, he waited then spoke, “I need to book in an urgent appointment with Eddie.” A pause then he rolled his eyes. “I know she’s booked. Tell her it’s Terry,”—he glanced down at me then whispered into the receiver—“and this is an emergency.” He waited a little while then went over to my desk, writing on the notepaper. “Excellent. Thank you!”
Ripping the paper off the pad, he handed it to me. “Edita is the best. She owes me, so she won’t cost you a dime.” He tilted his head then added, “The clothes, however, will cost you. Big time.”
I held the paper in my hand and asked, “What are you talking about? What clothes? Who is Edita?”
Terry beamed. “Why, honeybuns, Edita is your personal shopper.”
An hour later, a sophisticated woman with a black bob in a gorgeous tan, cream, and caramel patterned dress reached up to pull off her sunglasses. Her gaze lingered on me as she muttered, “This
is
an emergency.”
I looked down at my jeans and sweater combo. Personally, I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I got my sweater in a bargain bin. It cost me eight dollars, because of a snag in the back. I couldn’t see the snag when I wore it. I was sold!
Unlike some of my peers, I worked through college. Every year, I found something new to do. I went from working in a bakery to serving coffee, checking out groceries, and finally, working in the college library. I had a wad of savings in my bank account. That didn’t mean I wanted to waste it all on clothing.
The woman held her hand out, taking mine without permission. “Edita Warshol. Please call me Eddie. And you’re Mia.” Dropping my hand, she placed her arm through my elbow and dragged me along. “Now that we’re introduced, let’s get going. I only have two hours to spare.”
Two hours?
Surely I didn’t hear that right.
Two freaking hours?
Ugh. I was going to kill Terry.
Eddie dragged me from store to store, and I quickly stated that I was on a budget. Without meaning to be mean—at least, I thought she did—she looked down at me with a smile that said, ‘I can see that’.
I hated to admit it, but after a short while, I was pleasantly surprised with Eddie’s services. She asked me to show her a few items of clothing I would choose for myself, took my style into consideration, and then went to work. She pushed me out of my comfort zone with some items, but when I tried them on, I loved them. She made me buy some new makeup, asking the clerk to show me how to apply them, and three pairs of heels I secretly adored from the moment I saw them, and then took me to get all new lingerie.
As quietly as I could, I warned her I wasn’t into sexy lingerie. I was more into plain and comfortable. But she assured me that plain and comfortable could still be sexy. I was miffed to admit she was right.
Ten pair of panties and five bras later, I walked out of the store with a shy but excited smile. Soon, it was time for Edita to leave, and I was surprised when she stopped to hug me. “Thank you for letting me do what I love, Mia.”
“Thank you for helping me. I never would’ve chosen half of these clothes without your push.”
She beamed. “Music to my ears. Knowing you’re going to look fabulous in them is all I need to feel satisfied with my day’s work.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go, but it was lovely to meet you. Send my love to Terry.” Then she was gone.
I looked down at all the bags by my feet, carefully picked them up, and then hailed a taxi. There was no way I was getting all this on a bus.
A nap seemed like a good idea at the time, but when I woke, I felt even more tired than when I got home from shopping.
Ella had sent me a text confirming we were still on for tonight. When I told her we were, she immediately responded with a ‘YAY!’ and that she would come pick me up around nine. That was when I fell asleep. I woke at 5:35 p.m. and blinked down at the bags of clothing I just bought.
Slipping out of bed, I sorted my new clothes, folding, placing, and hanging them where necessary. The mix of colors in my closet was new. Wearing black most of the time became a habit when I was bigger. Black was slimming, so I wore it always. Unfortunately, black couldn’t hide forty pounds of extra weight.
Now I had reds, pinks, blues, and greens. It made me happy. I couldn’t wait to wear these things. I even had
dresses
. I
never
wore dresses. Tonight, I would wear a dress for experimentation purposes. I wanted to see the reaction of myself in a dress from the opposite sex.
Suddenly excited about my night out, I undressed and walked to the bathroom. I needed to Nair.
At 8:59 p.m. a knock sounded at my door.
I must’ve looked like a newborn calf running over in my heels, but I didn’t care. I threw open the door to find Ella standing there with a bottle of wine in her hands. She looked down at me then shrieked, “Get the fuck out!” She hugged me hard. “You look amazing, Mia!”
She wore a long black and white maxi dress that molded to her curves, her curls splaying down her back in a chaotic mess that looked stunning, with bright red pouting lips. Ella was one sexy woman.
The door across the hall opened and Terry spotted me. He gasped then shook his head, looking at Ella. “She does look gorgeous, doesn’t she?” Then he gloated in true Terry fashion. “It was all me. I hired the woman to help her shop, so, yeah.” He blew a kiss to me. “You’re welcome.”
The black dress I had on was lovely. It was a sweetheart cut cocktail dress that came a little too high on my thighs, but when I added the heels, I quickly realized it was beautiful. And I felt beautiful in it.
I had left my hair down, clipped back at one side, lightly applied makeup, and secretly slipped on a new pair of slightly sexy underwear. I was surprised by how great they made me feel. I knew no one could see them, but
I
knew they were there, and the silkiness of my panties gliding along my dress felt awesome, sensual.
Ella held out her hand, smiling. “You must be Terry.”
He took it, but gaped at me. “You’ve told people about me?”
I grinned. “Of course. You’re one of my two favorite guys.”
He smiled then and it was so tender, so un-Terry like, that my heart warmed. Then he turned. “Hi, Ella, so nice to meet you. I love your hair. It’s wild! Curls are so hot.” He spotted the wine in her hand. “Oh, bubbly. Mind if I have some?” Before Ella could answer, he was already dragging her inside his apartment.
Shaking my head with a smile, I retrieved my purse, locked my apartment, and then joined them just in time to witness Ella fall in love with Bill as I had. Then Bill looked over at me and his smile turned soft. He looked down at my dress and simply uttered a gentle, “Stunning, sweetheart,” before taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I could have sworn I heard Ella whimper.
Before long, Ella and Terry were talking like old friends, retelling old adventure stories while Bill and I listened and laughed. We finished the bottle of wine, kissed the guys goodbye, and then caught a cab over to the bar.
Saturday night was shaping up to be one of the best I had ever had.
The bar was not as I expected it to be.
Ella and I—completely overdressed and out of place—stood by the bar as I questioned her. “I thought you said you’ve been here before. I could have worn my jeans, El!”
Unmistakably sheepish, she lifted her screwdriver to her lips and muttered apologetically, “I have…but I may have left out that it was years ago.”
A man sitting on the opposite end of the bar raised his shot glass and tried to wink, but it came off as a blink. From the way he was swaying side-to-side, I thought it was one shot too many.