9781618857569GettingitAllStorm (11 page)

“Yes.”

“Yes.”
                       

“I'm driving. Have to look after
my friends.” Christy upped the charm quotient to hot. The poor kid positively
toasted under her sloe-eyed scrutiny. Dorothy wondered if she detected a rising
bulge under his snug, pristine white serving apron.
Bad Christy.

“Wow. You drive and you’re
paying. Uh, if you like the way I've served you. I've got a personal page.” The
young man scribbled furtively on a cocktail napkin, glancing around. “And whoever
he is you were talking about.” His young voice was urgent and low. “I want to
grow up to be him.” He was gone, his tightly encased exposed rear end bracketed
by the apron quickly disappearing into the tangle of tables.

All three girls burst into laughter.

“I didn't quite get that,” Lucy
said through her giggles, “but he's really cute. If I was into...sorry, 'were'
into young guys, I'd sure look him up.”

“I'm not into young guys, but
he'll grow. They always do.” Christy slipped the paper napkin with the kid’s
notation into her purse. “Okay. Let's eat.”

A couple of hours later as she
and Lucy tumbled out of Christy's
SUV
in the parking area of their hostess’ apartment complex, Dorothy's
tequila-fueled thoughts tumbled toward what a great trio of friends they were.
Christy was something else. Hot and sizzling, everyone envied and admired her,
and she was always an inspiration. Lucy was the beautiful and dear innocent
everyone wished they could remain.

“Come on in,” Christy directed,
carefully guiding them up the sidewalk of the semi-attached units. “The
tiramisu and coffee are waiting. In an hour or so, you guys will be good to
go.”

They had met at Christy's
apartment and the beautiful white-blonde had driven them to the restaurant. She
would be the designated driver of the evening and they would have dessert back
at her place.

She had wanted to stay fairly
sober, Dorothy remembered. Christy's earlier comment and the cool sobering
night air also reminded her Christy had never really gotten around to whatever
it was she wanted to talk about.

They had too good a time
discussing Matt and the other available males around town, their own jobs,
their bosses, and their looks as the drinks had freely flowed. They had been
shameless in their teasing of the young waiter, but before they left he had
supplied them with not only every social media address he had, but also his
private email address and the high school soccer website where he was an
outstanding player and, which he had eagerly pointed out, there was a revealing
picture of him in the team dressing room on there as well.

Once the young waiter had moved
out of range, Christy had quickly brought the dressing room picture up on her
phone.
The young athlete was wrapped
in a towel, fending off the affection of a fellow player.
Totally
beautiful.
Totally untouchable.

Glee
on
steriods
, Dorothy thought, and she felt genuinely sorry
when, as they slipped out of the booth and stood to go, Christy firmly informed
the eager young man there was no way any of them could get involved with him.

“Yeah, but I'll grow up,” was his
final bleat. “I'm growing all the time!” At which they all gave him a kiss on
his blushing cheek and left, turning back to see his boss shaking an
admonishing finger at the downcast young man.

“We were all bad,” Dot announced
as a smiling Christy settled them into the apartment.

“Weren't we,” Lucy eagerly
agreed. “I've never had such a good time. He was so cute. Our table guy, I
mean.”

“Oh, I thought you meant the
obsequious long-faced maitre d' and the grim old guy in the table next to our
booth when we got too loud.”

Lucy hooted. “He was mad, but
when I did my Little Nell act he looked so ashamed!” She dipped her head and
looked sincerely apologetic. The girls were impressed. “Some guys are just so
easy.”

She was still well under the
influence, Dorothy noted. An hour might not be enough for her to be able to
drive. Oh, well, it was a lovely apartment to bed down in.

Dorothy kicked her shoes off and
settled into the comfy sofa. Christy had great taste. Not too flashy for the
town whore and not too cutesy for the...

Aw, man, she didn't mean to think
that, she berated herself. Christy was not that promiscuous. But she did do
what she wanted and she had been known to go after a guy who was already taken
and cause a big hoo-ha. She had been that way forever.

Dorothy smiled as their gracious
hostess brought her a steaming cup of coffee and sat sugar and cream nearby.
Christy had every right to look out for herself. She had had a rotten
upbringing. Dorothy had had a great family life.

And here they both were.
Friends.

“This stuff is great!” Lucy
announced. “It doesn't need anything. What is it?”

“I know,” Christy grinned,
joining them in the living room, shoe-less. “It's that fake instant
international stuff. I've been addicted to it forever. Right, Dot?”

“Forever.
She used
to invite us to her house after school and serve it to us. It was expensive.
French.
Or Italian.
Or some weird
north country we'd never heard of. We thought it was very elegant.
Very
not
CoveHaven
.
We felt very special. Christy went to
Bryn
Mawr
.”

“Wow.”

“Two years.
On
scholarship.
Then I realized I was in the wrong place and came back
here. They were heartbroken. They thought they could re-wind my DNA.”

“You'll get out of here one day,”
Dorothy said. “We all will.” She was sobering fast.

“I'm not so sure I want to now.”

The atmosphere instantly changed.
Dorothy felt a slight chill run down her back.

Lucy, who obviously felt nothing,
brightly piped up, “Really? Why?”

Christy's crystal blue eyes
fastened onto Dot. “It's about Matt. And,” she broke the connection, “that
stupid little bet we had.”

“Well, you won it,” Lucy grumped.
“I didn't even get a chance at having a real date. And, Dorothy, you didn't
even try, did you?”

“I hadn't gotten around to it,”
Dorothy said warily.

“Yeah, I won the bet. Now I'd
like to win Matt.” Christy gulped the rest of her coffee and quickly stood.
“Anybody for another shot?”

“What do you mean, win Matt?”
Lucy asked. “I mean, haven't you won already?”

“Sleeping with a man isn't the
end all and be all, sweetie,” Christy called out from the kitchen, returning
with a pot of hot water and the instant international coffee mix. “Hard as it
may seem to imagine, there's more to a relationship than pure staggeringly
satisfying sex.”

“Well, of course. I know that.
I'm not completely...I'm not a virgin, you know.” Lucy was beginning to get the
drift that something more was going on. Dorothy watched her carefully.
But not as carefully as Christy.

“Christy, we're not your
keepers,” Dorothy said evenly. “You can do anything you want with Matt...
or
anybody else, for that matter. What's on your mind?”

Christy stirred her cup. “I know
you've got this special thing about Matt, Dot.”

“What? No, I
—
”

“And Lucy does too.”

“Well,” the young woman shifted
on the sofa, “he is the most—”

“I want to win him fair and
square.”

“Win him? There's nothing to
—
”

“Dot.
Be honest
with me. This is the biggest thing that's happened to me in a long time. Maybe
it will pass. Maybe some other fantastic lay will come along. Maybe...I'll grow
up one of these days, but I want us...no, I
don't
want it, but it's the only way it will ever work. I think
we
all
should try for him, for
a real relationship, and may the best woman win. I hope it's me. But if it's
not, I want it to be one of you. I think I need a drink. Not something fake
I've loved all my life.” She hurriedly padded back into the kitchen.

“What the
hell is going on, Dot?”
Lucy's eyes were fearful. Poor darling, Dorothy thought,
her vision beginning to blur. Something was happening and she wasn't in control
and she didn't like that. Dorothy didn’t like it either.

She felt her throat constrict.
Her nose began to run. She was about to burst into tears, real howling, hurting
tears and yet she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair. Not to her dead husband. Not
to Beau. Not now. Not after all these years.

Christy emerged with a bottle of
liquor and a water glass. “Oh, shit.” She quickly put them down and rushed to
Dorothy, kneeling in front of her, clutching her hands, then springing up to
sit on the sofa beside her and hold her friend close.

Dorothy erupted in tears.
Pain.
Searing pain flooded her.

Why the hell was she so…unstable
tonight?

“It's okay, sweetie,” Christy
cooed, rubbing the weeping woman's head, patting her shoulder, trying to calm
the racking sobs. “Let it out. Have you ever let it out before? I didn't think
so. We all
gotta
move on, Dot. Matt would be a great
guy for you, you've known that for years, but, now I want him, but I want him
fair and square. You want to fight for him? You want to win him? Then fight me
for him.” She brusquely tipped Dorothy's tear-stained face up.

Dorothy was astonished to note
through her blinks Christy's face was streaked with tears too. But her mascara
hadn't run. It must be waterproof.
It wouldn’t dare not be.

“What is going on? What's
happening?” Lucy was on her feet circling the two women, distraught.

Christy threw out a welcoming
arm. Dorothy held up a trembling one.

“Come here, honey. This includes
you too. Not because I want it to, but because I think you might be better for
him than either one of us. But I don't know, yet.”

Lucy clumsily joined the circle.
“Is there anything I can do? I don't like to see you cry. I've never seen
either one of you cry before and
I don't like it.”

Christy laughed, wiping her face
with a knuckle. Her mascara streaked. It wasn't smear-proof at all. “Bless you,
sweetie. We'll survive. We have before, haven't we, Dot? And we will again. But
I want a good fight. I want to know you tried.
The both of
you.
Tried hard.
That's the only way it'll ever
work for me.”

Dorothy found her voice through
her ebbing sobs. She laughed. “You're so damn sure of yourself, aren't you,
Christy?” She wiped her mascara-less face with her fingers and kissed the
totally puzzled Lucy on the cheek. “You think you can just snap your fingers
and he'll come running.”

Christy sat up, pulling herself
together. Her beautiful face, even streaked, was set. She gently stroked
Dorothy's cheek.

“Oh, honey...of course he
will…
he's a man.”

* * * *

“Boss!”

“Buddy, not now. I’m on the phone
and the parts guy doesn’t have—”

“It’s Dorothy. She’s outside. She
wondered if you’ve got time to say hello. She didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Dot?
Outside?
In the shop?”

“Yeah, she—”

Matt quickly stood, ending the
phone conversation. “Do the best you can. Let us know what you find out. Talk
to you later.” Hanging up, he quickly looked around. “Damn, the place looks
like crap, I look—”

“She said she could catch you
later.”

“No! I’m here. I’m fine.” He ran
his fingers through his hair and smoothed the front of his flannel shirt,
sitting. “I’m great. Send her in. No!” He leaped up.
“Jesus.
‘Send
her in’,” he berated himself. Crossing the office quickly, he
passed Buddy and swung the door open.

For a moment, he and Dorothy
stared at each other, faces blank.

Breaking into a huge smile of
welcome, Matt reached for her hand. Sensing her slight recoil, he swept the
hand back to gesture her into the office. “Hi, Dot. Long time no stop by to say
‘hi.’ Come in. Come in. Buddy, Dot and I need to catch up. Can you see to it
nobody barges in on us for a while? Thanks.”

The grinning Buddy carefully
closed the door behind him.

“I’m on my lunch break,” she
said, sounding as if they had just talked yesterday. “You know how Amelia is.
Even if there are no customers, she wants us ready and waiting for walk-ins.
I’ll have to get back soon. I’m glad you’ve got time to see me. I just—”

He grabbed her hand. They were
both startled at how the touch affected them.