Got the Life (A Nicki Sosebee Novel) (10 page)

Nicki felt herself dangerously close to waking up entirely.  “Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just yourself, dear.”

“Okay, mom.  Thanks.”

“By the way, dad and I are proud of you.”

Here we go.  The comparisons of the disappointing child with the dream kid. 
What the hell did mom plan to say?  Nicki
tried to stifle her irritation.  “For what?”

“For your newspaper article, of course.  Great job, honey.”

God, what a shit she was, ready to pounce on her mother
.
  Nicki needed to remember that sometimes parents were actually cool and sincere.
  “Thanks, mom.  There’s more where that came from.”  That was it
, though
.  She was awake now.  “Where was it?”

Her mom laughed.  “In the paper, of course.  You know I don’t read the online edition.”

Nicki smiled.  “No, mom.  Where in the paper?”

There was a pause.  “Oh.  It was on the front page.”

Nicki squealed.  “On the fucking front page?  Yahoo!”  Her elation died down to dread in less than two seconds.

“Nicole Lee Sosebee!
  Watch your language.”

Shit.
  It sucked
being
a fucking sailor mouth when your parents were
hardcore Lutherans, convinced that one of the steps to heaven included a mouth so clean,
Saint Peter could eat out of it
. 
Thinking of
Will and her mom and dad, Nicki was convinced she was adopted.  That was the only logical explanation.

So much for getting more sleep.  As soon as her mother hung up the phone, she darted out the door for her
copy of the
paper.  She didn’t think about the fact that she was just wearing a clingy t-shirt and panties when she walked out the door.  She doubted anyone saw her, and if they did, they probably also saw her little tryst with Carlos earlier in the week and had begun scoping out Nicki’s doorway
for the next free show
.  Better than Cinemax.

She kicked the door
closed
with her foot, pulling off the
red
rubber band tied around the paper.  She saw it, though, before she even finished unrolling it:  “Suspect charged in arson case.”  Neal usually wrote the headlines, although he was open to suggestions.  He’d never taken one of Nicki’s, so she hadn’t offered in a while.

Nicki’s eyes continued devouring the paper.  Just underneath the title was her first real byline:  Nicki Sosebee.  Yes! 
Finally.  All her hard work and attention to Neal’s guidance was beginning to pay off.

Well, maybe not so much, she thought as she scanned the article.  Wow.  He’d really butchered her words, especially the third paragraph.  By the time she was done reading it, her balloon had deflated.
  She didn’t recognize parts of it at all.
  But, then, she reread the first paragraph again.  And again.  And again.  Then she smiled. 
Neal
hadn’t changed a single word in her first paragraph…the six reporter questions paragraph.  Maybe she
was
learning.

The smile was back on her face, and she picked her cell phone back up off the kitchen table.  She’d almost finished speed dialing Sean when she pressed
End
.  No fucking way was she going to call.  No way.  There was no way
in hell
she was just going to pretend like that kiss yesterday hadn’t happened.  And if she called him right now to celebrate her first front page article (goal accomplished!), that’s what she’d be doing—giving him permission to make believe things were still the same.

And maybe they were, but they were going to talk about it first
and agree on it
.

Where the hell had that
kiss
come from?  He’d never so much as laid a hand on her in anything but a platonic fashion since Nicki’s royal fuck up on The Night That Must Never Be Mentioned Again.  In fact, he’d treated her more brotherly than Will ever had.  He’d made it clear that if they were to
have a relationship
,
friends were
all they ever would be.

It was a game of pretend.

And apparently that’s what Sean wanted.  But
they weren’t just going to fall back into friendship,
not this time, not without talking about it.  Nicki might have made the worst mistake in bed ever (
worthy
of
being number one on a David Letterman Top Ten list
), but Sean crossed the line he’d drawn in the sand
eight years ago
, and now he was going to have to be a man and talk about it.

Chapter Twelve

NICKI WASN’T READY
to talk about the kiss, no matter how she felt.  It was too fresh, and she knew that if she confronted Sean today, she’d blather on and on like a pathetic school girl.  If it was just some freak of nature thing that
had
happened and she
wound up confessing her undying—
whatever
—
to
Sean, he’d cut off their friendship entirely
, like he almost did after The Night That Must Never Be Mentioned Again
.  Nicki just knew it.  So she needed a day or so to steel herself, and then she’d be ready to talk.
  Calmly.  Rationally.  Like a man.

She didn’t get anything done for the paper that day. 
It’s not that she didn’t have plenty of time.  Between her mother’s phone call and agonizing over Sean, though, she was worthless.  In that sense, she was glad she didn’t have a nine-to-five with the
Tribune
.

But she couldn’t stand it anymore.  Who to call?  Brandy or
Jillian
?  The newly wedded lovebird who would likely see everything through rose-colored lenses with Gucci frames or the frazzled mother of three who would only hear half of what she said thanks to screaming kids in the background trying to light the house aflame but who would offer some great advice?

She started pulling up Brandy’s number on her cell phone and began imagining the start of their conversation:  “Oh, hi, Nicki.  So glad you called.  Yes, Kevin and I have had sex every single night since we got married, some nights as many as three times.  Yes, I orgasm every time, sometimes experiencing multiple orgasms.  He holds me close until I go to sleep.  He brushes my hair.  He gives me killer backrubs.  So…Sean who?  Oh, Nicki.  Time to move on, don’t you think?”

Uh, yeah.  Well, maybe not. 
Jillian’s
kids might block out a good three-fourths of what Nicki had to say, but
Jillian
would be able to read her facial expressions.
  She would be able to empathize, even if she couldn’t give Nicki any advice.  And, really, that was all she needed.

So she instead dialed
Jillian’s
number. 
It rang one, two, three times. 
C’mon,
Jillian
, pick up.
  Nicki was ready to hang up when, at last, she heard a frantic
Jillian
on the other end.

“Thank God you answered the phone.  I need some serious girl time.”

“That sounds fantastic.  I have one little boy I could take shopping with me, and
—for your girl time—y
ou can babysit these two little girls before I pull my hair out.”

Maybe today was a bad day.  “Ooh, sorry to hear that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me to say no to
Nate
when he proposed
?”

Nicki smiled.  “Because,
Jill
, that’s not what friends do.  You’d be living with me now, laying on my couch, eating Ben and Jerry’s, and only bathing when I forced you to.”

Jillian
snickered.  “That’s pretty much what I do now. 
Nathan
, stop playing in the water!”

Nicki winced as
Jillian
yelled in her ear.
  “Ouch.”

“Oh.  Sorry about that.  So when do you wanna come over?”

“Well, I have to be to work at four, so how about now?”

“Sounds great.  I’ll save some macaroni and cheese and apple juice for you.”  Oh, would you please?  “By the way, nice front page, girl.  You’re movin’ up.”

Nicki felt better already.  “Thanks, girlfriend.  See you in a bit.”

* * *

She was glad she’d worn shorts and a t-shirt, because just inside the yard she got sprayed with the hose.  “Thanks,
Nathan
.”  The little bugger giggled and ran around the back.  Good thing.  Nicki was stronger than the little shit and would have no qualms about holding the hose down his shirt until it puffed up, full of water.  Then again, spraying the hose in his face might get his attention better.

Good thing she wasn’t a mom.

She got to the screen door and shouted inside.  Apparently,
Jillian
wasn’t running her cooler and was instead letting the breez
e through the windows.  News
flash.  Ninety-five degree breezes will
not
cool the house down, no matter what the wind speed.  Well, she supposed
Jillian
had to be able to hear the kids when they were outside.  “Hey,
Jillian
, it’s me.”  She started to open the door when shfffft! 
Nathan
blasted her on the side of the head, then ran to the side of the house again, the hose following him around the corner, giving away his position.  If she’d had more energy, she would have considered running around the other side of the house and really getting him.

Shit.  Good thing she would
have to
pull her hair back for work.  The entire side of her head was dripping.  She opened the door and darted inside, no longer caring if she dripped on
Jillian’s
carpet.  She had to escape the little monster named
Nathan
. 
“
Jillian
, I’m here!”

She heard a baby crying near the back of the house.  “I’m back here changing the baby’s diaper.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

The three-year-old Anni toddled out, holding a sippy cup in one hand and animal crackers in another.  Nicki leaned over.  “Hey, sweetie.  How have you been?”

Anni grinned at her, placing her cup in her mouth and tipping it.  Then she held out her other hand to Nicki.  “For you.”  Nicki managed a nervous smile and held out her hand.  The child placed a sticky, soggy cookie in her palm, smiled again, and then waddled off in the direction she came from.  Nicki shuddered and spied a box of facial tissue next to the couch.  It was empty.  She sighed, trying to be as stoic as possible, heading to the kitchen and trying not to freak out as the cookie attempted to dissolve its way into her hand.  God, she was
never
going to have kids. 
Jillian’s
children convinced her that it was the shittiest fucking idea ever.  Thank the stars for birth control.

“Hey, where’d ya go?”

“I’m in here, in the kitchen washing my hands.  Anni nailed me with some god-awful apple juice-animal cracker-cooties concoction.”

Jillian
rounded the bend to the kitchen, laughing.  Her short black hair wasn’t styled but looked natural
and pretty
, and her green eyes sparkled as she approached her friend.  “Think of it as an immunization.”

Nicki forced a half smile.  She looked down at baby Grace.  “What have
you
got in store for me, you little booger?”

“She had quite a stink bomb for you, but I cleaned her up before you got here.  Next time I can save it.”

Be good, Nicki.  “Gosh, thanks.”  Wow—she managed to control that potty mouth.  She’d have to do something nice for herself later.

In spite of remembering why she was no longer a frequent visitor at her friend’s house, once the kids calmed down, Nicki remembered why
Jillian
had always been such a good friend.  She was a great listener and she helped Nicki think things through.  And so she decided to tell
Jillian
about the entire week.  She started just jumping straight for the kiss
from Sean
and then thought maybe her friend needed to hear about how they got there, so she
backtracked to first meeting
Carlos
and the adventures that ensued
(sans the exhibitionist orgasm on the ground floor of her apartment building).

Jillian
said, “Hold that thought.”  She ran in the living room
, turned on the television, and started flipping through channels faster than a fuel-injected stockcar at
the Indy 500
.  “Hey, kids, I put SpongeBob on TV.”  Of course.  Wouldn’t want to give the kids any ideas.