The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2) (9 page)

Totally worth it.

“Okay.” I’ll take a cell phone shot of the lingerie spread out on my bed and send it to Ben as a reminder of what he has waiting for him.

“Good. That ought to get his motor running. How do you like this?” She holds up a hot pink lace corset. Actually, it’s half a corset.

“Where’s the bra part of that?”

She holds up a box of hot pink pasties with tassels. “It comes with a free feather tickler too,” she says, reading the back of the box.

“Don’t you want something a little… pretty?”

“Vince prefers pretty slutty,” she says matter-of-factly, holding the corset against her chest in front of a full-length mirror.

A salesperson walks by just as Allie makes her statement. She stops in her tracks, shakes her head and smiles. I bet she could write a book about all the things she overhears. Maybe I should pull her aside and talk to her. We’re always looking for new ideas at work.

Confessions of a Lingerie Salesperson… that could work.

“I think you’ve accomplished your goal. Let’s pay for this stuff before we buy anymore.”

~o0o~

We walk back to our apartment from the subway station after a fun afternoon of girl-time, shooting the breeze about silly little nothing-in-particulars. I turn my head and watch Allie talk as we walk home.

I miss girl-time. We don’t do it often enough since Ben and Vince came into our lives. Allie has always been my rock. From the first time we met when we were kids, we instantly clicked. Some people take their friendships for granted, expecting them to be there when the going gets tough and help pick up the pieces.

That’s not us. I know Allie is there to pick me up when things are bad, she’s done it often enough… but she’s also there for the good stuff. And that’s just as important.

“What the hell are you staring at? Do I have falafel in my teeth?” she asks.

“No. I’m glad we spent some time together, that’s all.”

“Coming on to me? And here I thought you were satisfied with that pretty little dick.”

I smack her arm with my shopping bags. “Al, don’t repeat that! I told you the pretty dick thing in confidence.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase that. I’m confident his dick is pretty.”

“You’re a sick, twisted deviant. And incidentally… there is nothing
little
about his dick.”
I can’t believe I just said that.

She laughs. “Guess I’ll have to order a larger strap-on to compete with Mr. Big and Pretty.”

Laughing, I shake my head and change the subject. “How the hell are we going to cover our rent? Look at all the bags I’m carrying.” I hold up four bags filled with silky panties, bras, and the matching white lace set Allie convinced me to buy.

“Don’t sweat it, Jules. The damage is done. My grandmother won’t kick us out if our rent check is a little late. Anyway, now you have pretty silky lacy things to model for Ben. Totally worth a late payment. Once he sees you prancing around in that little white lace number you just bought, not only will he forget that Laura person, he'll also forget his name.”

“Can we not bring her up? I don’t know why this woman gets under my skin. I haven’t even met her.”

“It’s no wonder—between your relationship history and her reputation. When you and Ben were just casual fuck buddies, you had no rights. Now that you’re in looooove,” she pauses and rolls her eyes, “you’re protective of what’s yours. Jules, your boyfriend isn’t a cheater. Trust me. He’s too loved up. If I’m completely honest, the two of you are sickening sweet together.”

“I’m sure there’s a compliment in there somewhere. Thanks, I already knew everything you said. I just needed to hear it.”

“Don’t you worry; he’s not sticking his pretty big dick anywhere else.”

“You’re an evil bitch.”

She laughs. “Be grateful this evil bitch is on your side.”

“Oh, I am.”

~o0o~

Spending the day shopping with my evil bitch best friend was exactly what I needed to screw my head back on straight. He’s going to work with other women from time to time, just like I work with other men. It’s work. He knows the difference between work and play. He’d never cross that line.

Then again, he crossed that line with me once. I guess I crossed that line too. I wonder if two past line-crossers together make a double negative, thereby making us non-line-crossers now.

My brain hurts. I think I just blew my mind. I’m going to need a lobotomy if I don’t stop this.

Anyway, a little jealousy is healthy. I’m not the only one with a jealous streak. Ben showed the green-eyed monster side of him when Pierce made an appearance. Then again, afterward, the cupcake sex… Mmm.

Note to self: Invite Pierce over more often… And always have cupcakes.

I haven’t heard from Ben since earlier this afternoon. No call. Not even a text. I know he’s talking to baseball people about all things stadium. And I know once he’s in the “writing zone” as he likes to call it, there’s no talking to him. So I wait.

I don’t want to be that clingy girlfriend that requires constant check-ins every hour on the hour. But come on… call me. I look at the pile of new lingerie purchased today. I’ll fill my time taking pictures with my cell phone. Once we’re done with our usual flirty, borderline pornographic, phone conversation, I’ll send him an image of what’s in store for him when he flies home. There’s no way he’ll even think about another girl knowing this sexy lace number is waiting for him.

I smooth out my blanket and lay my new white lace ensemble on my bed. Damn, it’s even making
me
horny. I glance at my nightstand drawer. Thank God, BOB has fresh batteries. I snap a few shots with my cell phone and wait for Ben to contact me.

And wait.

And wait.

Okay, it’s almost ten o’clock. Where the hell is he?

I sit on my bed, tapping my foot, my lips pursed, scowling at my cell phone, willing it to do something. Anything. I’ve checked the battery charge, missed calls and missed texts. Nothing.

“Ring, you electronic piece of junk. Ring.”

Finally my cell phone lights up and buzzes. I glare at it. I don’t want him to know I’ve been sitting here like an idiot, playing fashion photographer with underwear, while I waited for his call. After three rings, I answer.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hi, sorry it’s late. It’s been a busy night.”

“It’s fine,” I lie.

“What have you been up to today?”

“Shopping with Allie.”

“Sounds like fun.”

I can tell he’s distracted. Usually, a shopping trip would lead to a discussion about what sexy clothes I bought and all the ways he’s going to take them off me. I’ve never got a “sounds like fun” before.

“There’s a lot of noise on the line. Do you have the TV on?” I ask.

“No, I’m in the hotel lobby waiting for Laura. We’re meeting at the bar for a drink and to discuss tomorrow’s plans. I wanted to catch you before it got too late.”

Son of a Bitch. This is an obligation phone call. He’s fitting me in so he can have cocktails with that woman. And he expects it to go late. He’s called me at all hours of the night… why would a late call suddenly matter?

Unless he plans on bringing her back to his room. I’m going to kill Marcello for giving me the dirt on that girl-code crossing hussy.

“You can call me later. I don’t mind.”

There’s a brief pause then he exhales. “Look, Julia, we need to figure out logistics for the next two legs of this trip. I have a ton of writing to do tonight and deadlines hanging over my head. There’s a lot of shit I have to cover in a short amount of time. I’ll call you in the morning on our way to the airport. It’s easier this way. I just wanted to say goodnight.”

My stomach drops. He’s blowing me off. And he’s already categorized him and that woman as “we”.

“Sorry I’m taking up your precious time,” I snap.

“Stop it. I don’t have time for this. I have enough crap on my plate.”

“That’s what I am? Crap?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you now.” There’s a muffled sound in the background, I know he has his hand over the phone. I can make out he’s talking to someone. “Look, I have to go. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Fine.” I click the phone off before he can say goodbye. I know he’s under a lot of pressure, but I refuse to be a second thought in his life.

Throwing the phone on my bed, I stick my tongue at it.

It lights up and vibrates. I know there’s a text waiting. I’m a little nervous to read it, but curiosity gets the better of me. Maybe he’s sorry and apologizing.

I reach across my bed and grab the phone, swiping the lock away. Ben’s text appears.

*Was that necessary?*

I stare at the phone in my hand, debating with myself whether I should answer him or ignore it. Taking a deep breath, I toss the phone back on my bed and leave for the kitchen in search of a pint of Haagen-Dazs to drown my sorrows.

“Asshole,” I mumble to myself.

I walk back in my bedroom with the pint of ice cream and spoon in hand and pick up my cell phone. No new messages. Placing the ice cream carton on my nightstand, I pull up the image of the sexy outfit I planned on sending to him. So much for that idea. So much for dirty talk. I close the image and scan through Ben’s old text messages. Most are filled with “I love yous” and lists of all the filthy things he wants to do to me. And I realize something.

I’m the asshole.

He has a lot on his plate; between the traveling required to complete his book on time, his grandmother’s declining health, and his father’s relentless riding him. The last thing he needs is a jealous girlfriend, especially when he’s given me no reason to feel this way. I know time can slip away during business meetings, it’s happened to me often enough when I’m with other authors.

I swallow my pride and text him.

*I’m sorry. I love you.*

After twenty minutes, I realize he’s not going to respond. I take my half-empty, mostly-melted pint of ice cream and place it back in the freezer. If his whole trip goes like tonight, I better ration out the emotional eating.

It’s after midnight and still no word from Ben. This is the first time he hasn’t called or texted me before we went to sleep. I place my phone on my nightstand and turn off the lamp.

I spent half the night tossing and turning. Awake. Asleep. Awake. Asleep. I hate the way tonight ended. I wake with a jolt when I hear the sound of something buzzing. Blinking a few times to get my eyes in focus, I look at my nightstand and see my phone lit up. I reach over and grab it.

*I love you too.*

And there it is. I hold the phone to my chest and smile.

I fight the urge to write him back. It’s late. I know he has a busy day ahead. So do I. I fall back to sleep with a smile on my face and Ben’s words resting against my heart.

~o0o~

The morning of day two has gone a little smoother. At least he’s still talking to me. I’m on my best behavior, trying to keep my jealousy at bay. This is not an easy task since I only got sporadic, at best, texts from Ben earlier this morning right before his flight to Cleveland. Whora sure likes to keep him busy. She’s probably making up reasons to stretch out their Cleveland outing.

I bet she’s one of those obnoxious bubbly girls who adds a “y” at the end of every male name. I could hear her now: “You know,
Benny
, the camera isn’t the only thing I like to flash.
Benny
, is that a wide-angle lens in your pocket or are you happy to see me?
Benny
, the lighting has to be just right, would you mind turning off the lights? I do my best work in the darkroom. Or B
enny
, you have a girlfriend? That’s not a problem… my lips are sealed—unless they’re wrapped around your cock.”

Bitch.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. I’m driving myself crazy. This kind of jealousy is ugly, it’s petty and a waste of time. I’m better than this. He’s better than this. He’s a good man. And he loves me.

At least I have work to occupy my thoughts. I glance at the time in the corner of my computer screen. It’s close to eleven-thirty. Think I’ll check in.

*How’s your day going?*

*Good. Got in a few interviews. Few more left. Laura’s amazing. Got some great shots in early this morning. *

I roll my eyes.
Laura’s amazing. I bet she hears that a lot…

When she’s on her knees.

*Glad it’s going well for you. *

*Next interview is here.*

*Ok. Miss you.*

*U too.*

I don’t even get whole words anymore. Ben certainly isn’t hiding his admiration for that woman. In fact, he speaks very highly of her. Marcello did say she was an excellent photographer. I should be happy for Ben. I should be happy for me. Good copy and good images will make Vivian happy, and a happy Vivian makes my job a hell of a lot easier.

“Got some great shots, huh?” I mutter to myself. “I’d like to shoot
her
.”

I trust Ben. I trust Ben. I trust Ben.

Fortunately, work was busy. It gave me time to calm down and stop thinking like an insecure girlfriend. I have nothing to worry about. Like Ben said before he left, all of him, especially his dick, is mine. I’m acting like an imbecile.

And it ends now.

~o0o~

I checked three sports internet sites and all say the ballgame ended over an hour ago. Ben’s hotel is less than a mile from the stadium. I should have heard from him by now.

I’m not allowing my imagination to get the better of me again and imagine him dead from a stray foul ball hitting him in the head. Or dead from my hands clasped around his throat when I find out that bitch seduced him.

I pick up my cell and call him.

After three rings, he finally picks up.

“I got it. I got it. Are you there?” he asks, laughing.

“Yes. I’m here. Where are you?”

“In my hotel room. Ju-lee-ah. I was going to call you in a little while. I was in the middle of sssomething,” he slurs.