Chapter 9

"You're such a bitch. Stop laughing." I was about to throw my wine in my best friend's face if she didn't quit making fun of me.

"You realize you just committed the worst dating faux pas possible. No woman wants to hear about her girlfriend's ex-lovers."

"First of all, she's not my girlfriend. And secondly, she ate just as much ice cream as I did and had equally horrible stories to share."

"Did she ever get dressed?"

"I mean, she tied the robe. Nobody wants ice cream on bare skin. But no. She didn't put any clothes on. Did I mention her brother's ride?"

"If you didn't have such a fine ass, Gizzy, I'd worry you might be a dude. What is with you and cars?"

"This wasn't just a car. This was a hundred thousand dollars' worth of beautifully crafted steel. And it wasn't an automatic."

"Does it being a straight drive mean something I'm not aware of?"

"Um yeah. That he can harness the power of five hundred horses."

"I'm sure that's impressive if you're sporting a dick, but what does that do for you?"

"Unfortunately, his appeal stopped at his car."

"And his sister?"

"No. Just the car."

"Giselle, you're a mess. So how did you guys leave this disaster?"

"We're going to get coffee on Thursday. Why?"

"Do you have an enchanted pussy?"

"Is that lesbian slang?" I didn't know what the hell she was referring to.

"No. I'm trying to figure out why the hell this banging chick would want anything to do with your emo ass after you got drunk and cried on her couch. Are you sure you didn't eat her out? Suckle her nipples? Finger her?"

"I didn't touch her, Ronnie. Maybe she just likes me."

"No one likes you, Giselle. Men tolerate you because you're an incredible lay who doesn't want a commitment. And your friends have known you too long to desert you without being cited by the county for child abandonment."

"Ha. Ha. Laugh all you want. It is possible I could make some new friends, you know? God knows with the likes of you, I need them."

"Nothing like a naked broad with a pint of ice cream to dub your new BFF. So, who else is on your dance card?"

"My what? Veronica, I don't dance."

"No, and you're not an idiot, either. Wise up. I know you're not betting the farm on one woman, so who's up next to bat, because this chick just struck out."

"She did not. She was just a tad forward knowing I was a newbie."

"It's sex, not rocket science. And you've totally canned her. I know you, Giselle. She tried to move to second base, and you shut her down. Whatever your reason, she got friend-zoned last night. So, who's next?"

"Did your mother deprive you of oxygen as a baby?"

"No, but clearly yours did. Who's next?"

"Roxie."

"What's a Roxie?"

For being so well-rounded, my best friend could be a total moron. "Seriously?"

"Fine, tell me about Roxie. Does she know you're a hetero parading around as a lesbian wannabe? Or better yet, that you get a lady boner for cars?"

"I hate you." I didn't really.

"You love me."

We closed down The Watering Hole talking about all the possibilities in my dating game. She'd never admit it, but I think Veronica might have been a tad jealous that I was out playing in her field while she was chained up in her dugout at home. I didn't know how she'd managed to get away tonight, but I was fairly certain Trish would have her in shackles again by morning. This seemed to be their thing. Veronica needed pizzazz in her relationships, and they'd been together so long they'd lost the Zs at the end and just had pizza. No one else could put up with her, but Trish could be a lot to handle, too. Having a best friend who was gay when I wasn't led to its own problems when they were dating. It led to even more when I decided I wanted to switch teams.

Trish and I had a love-hate relationship. Mostly, she just loved to hate me because she believed I caused every one of her fights with Veronica. Somehow, I swiped V's credit card for that six-hundred-dollar pair of shoes. And it was me who had her flirting with the bartender at The Watering Hole to get free drinks. And I was the cause of Ronnie always breaking curfew. Well, that last one was me-but that wasn't the point. I was here before Trish, and I'd be here after. And I was almost certain there would be an after. So I opted to ignore her tirades and pretended they were shouts of love...for me. I'd bought her a cheerleader costume for Christmas one year-she didn't get the insinuation...or insult, and I didn't give a shit.

Ronnie and I were wild cards. We had been since birth. It's what made us the dynamic duo we'd become known for. Our reputation reached far and wide. Well, at least in this county, because we'd both been here our entire lives.

"So, Roxie?"

We were standing outside in the parking lot. All the employees had gone home, and we hung out under the one light still on overhead. It dawned on me this might not be the safest place for us to congregate, but I also knew once Ronnie left, she might be on lockdown for a couple days. It was tough to be single in a life filled with couples.

"Yeah. I don't know. We'll see. She seems nice enough. And girls seem to really dig this whole naïve gig I have going. Maybe it's the intrigue of innocence. Who would have thought women in their thirties would want to teach an old dog new tricks?"

"Meh. I can see its merit. If I didn't have Trish, I wouldn't mind taking a newbie and teaching her what I liked and how I liked it. But women new to the lifestyle are a risk to those of us who truly are lesbians." She said the last three words like they held weight.

"You're not better than me just because you've been gay longer."

"No, I'm better than you because I am gay. You're just a poser."

"My coming to the realization later in life doesn't make you any more gay than I am."

"Yes, it absolutely does...because you don't realize you're gay, Gizzy. You like dick. Lots of it. What you don't like are the assholes attached to the pole. But you very much like penis."

"Po-tay-toe, po-tot-toe. The fact is they come as a package. And without a muzzle, I can't deal anymore. I'll learn to love snatch. Plus, there's always strap-ons."

She brushed me off and changed the subject. "So you'll call me to let me know how things go with Roxie?"

"Sure, but I have coffee with Beck first. You interested in the details of that soiree, too?"

"Nope. Beck is a done deal. Move on."

I hugged my friend and then we both got into our respective cars. When I pulled my phone from the cup holder to check my messages, I retrieved five missed texts from none other than Beck herself.

Instead of texting her back, I opted to call and drive at the same time.

She answered on the first ring. In tears. "Hello?" She sounded pitiful. My guess was she'd had a run-in with her asshole brother. Maybe now she'd understand my reason for ditching men.

"Hey, Beck. What's wrong?"

"Can you come over?"

I glanced at the clock. It was midnight, and I had to be at work at nine in the morning, but my alarm clock would go off at six to run the daily five miles. I could skip my morning stop at Starbucks on my way into the office and get an extra thirty minutes of sleep. "Yeah, I can stop by. I'm down off Fifth Street, so it'll take me about ten minutes to get there. Are you all right?"

"I just need someone to talk to." She sniffled into the receiver as if to make her point more valid. I'd already agreed to come; she didn't have to slather on the pity party.

"Okay. I'll be there soon."

Ten minutes later, I pulled in behind the same red Porsche I'd ogled the last time I was here. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. This guy must be a real tool if he made his sister cry. When I got out of the car, I glanced down at my skintight, gray Army T-shirt, boyfriend jeans that hung on my hips, and black Chucks. My hair was in a messy bun, and I had forgone freshening my makeup after work since I was just meeting Ronnie. Oh well, I guessed she was going to see it sooner or later. I can't be on all the time...and I'd seen her ass stuck to a couch...literally. I'd say we were even.