by Anita Claire
Meredith proclaims, “Now this looks like a room someone our age should be living in.”
We all return to the living room to finish our margaritas. Meredith stirs the pot by bringing up my full frontal nudity experience from earlier in the week
Of course, it’s Kelly, who asks, “Snow, did you ever get to put a face with the cock?”
Surprising, I tell them, “As a matter of fact, I did.”
Now they’re all screaming.
“What does he look like?”
“Did he say anything about the bathroom exposure?”
With a smirk, I raise my arms to calm all the comments. “I really didn’t meet him. He just came to the door to get Cassie. But you guys can Google him if you want a face to go with the dick too.”
Now I really got them going. “Who is he?” Caroline questions.
“Luke Tomlinson.”
“Sexy Luke Tomlinson—the professional football player?” Olivia gasps.
By this time, half my friends have brought up his picture and stats on their phones.
“Whew, Cassie doesn’t mess around. This chick goes for the gold. Do you know this guy has a $30 million, multi-year contract, with an additional $25 million a year in endorsements?”
“Besides being hot?!”
“He doesn’t have a very big nose, does he have a big shlong?” Kelly asks
“Luke Tomlinson was the guy blowing up your roommate’s phone?” Jennifer sputters out.
I’m laughing hard by the end of the all this. They haven’t met Cassie, but between her condo, her “super-sized selfie” on the dining room wall, and current boyfriend, she certainly has surprised my friends.
Hita gives me no relief. “So, have you put a face to this week’s abs?”
Choruses of questions arise. “What abs? Whose abs? Tell us!”
“Hita is just trying to add drama. There’s not that much to tell.” I add. “At lunch this week, I told Hita that there’s a guy at swimming who had the most amazing six pack. I have no idea what his name is or anything else about him.”
“So…did you finally put a face to the abs?” Hita asks
“Yes, he swam this morning; I made a point of moving my eyes north to his face. But I still don’t have any more details. My nickname for him is Coffee Cake. We all laugh and agree that having a morning coffee cake is a great way to start the day.
Kelly lifts the back of her shirt to show us her latest tattoo. It’s above the montage of her seven princesses tramp stamp. She fuels the group’s energy with stories from her summer on the XC cycling tour. The XC women are a hard working, hard partying group. I bring out more margaritas and empty my freezer by cooking up frozen pot stickers and taquitos. We’re laughing and joking so hard that we forget to actually leave the condo to go to happy hour.
At about 9:00 p.m., the doorbell rings. We’ve been rather loud; I hope it isn’t Charlie from upstairs complaining about the noise. I’m relieved when it turns out to be Meredith’s boyfriend, Sam. He stopped by when he didn’t find us at Steins Beer Garden.
Meredith says, “Why didn’t you call or text?”
Sam pulls out his phone and calls Meredith’s phone. Nothing happens. Oops, I guess Meredith forgot to charge her phone again. Sam gets a lot of credit from this group. We’re a tough crowd. He stays and laughs with us for a while before dragging Meredith home. The drinks, long week, and early wake up calls have gotten to me. We wind down our happy hour. Heading off to bed, my head swims and my heart is happy. It’s so nice spending an evening with wonderful friends.
Chapter 13
After swimming on Saturday, I walk the couple of blocks to Dana Street Coffee. Although I’m not a big coffee person, I’m still a fan of the coffee shop atmosphere; it’s conducive for working on my laptop. There are a couple of calculations from work that are bugging me. When caught up in the throes of solving a problem, I have a hard time walking away. My vanilla bean Frappuccino has gone flat because I’ve been focusing on this problem. At some point, the feeling that someone is staring at me over my computer takes over. While still typing, my gaze moves away from the screen to see the warm brown eyes of Gray Barber staring down at me. Gray and I met the summer we were going into 6th grade at an introduction to fencing camp. We bonded over Pokemon, even attending the Pokemon 2000 movie together. Gray always wanted to be Ash, while I wanted to be Misty. We spent our weekends in high school hanging out at fencing tournaments.
Although I’m initially startled, a large smile overtakes my face as I quickly reflect that Gray has always been a good friend. The last we saw each other was at my parents’ house right before I left for London. “Gray, shouldn’t you be studying? What are you doing here?”
“I’m just down for the morning—to meet up with my brother and dad. I’m in the parking lot behind here. Walking past this place I looked in the window and had to double take; I thought I was seeing things. I didn’t realize you were back from London.”
“You’re behind the times, my man. I’ve been home for five weeks, working at a real job for a month already, and living with Cassie for the last three weeks. If you actually looked at Facebook, you would know all of this.”
“Who has time for all the crap people put up on Facebook? With my workload at Boalt, sometimes I wonder when I’ll have time to breathe.” Gray is now in his third year at Berkeley Law.
“So how was your summer in Washington with Senator Feinstein?”
“Sweltering and humid,” he says with humor. “Besides that, it was outstanding. I really got an authentic view of how our legislative process works.” He pauses, “So London and that guy…?”
Gray was not a fan of Stephan. They met last year. After Gray met Stephan, he just shook his head and asked me what I saw in that guy?
“Yeah, London was cold and rainy. It didn’t feel like summer at all. It felt more like a Bay Area winter.”
“I wasn’t asking for a weather report.” Gray replies.
I’m getting good at giving the gist of the breakup without going too deep into details. After taking a deep breath, I explain, “The London version of Stephan and the California version of me were not compatible.”
“There is only one version of you, and Stephan was a prick.” Gray says with a frown.
Why didn’t I see that when he was in California, I wonder. “He was a lot of fun when he lived here and he was always interesting.”
Gray just stares for a beat or two, which left me to wonder what’s going on behind those warm brown eyes. This conversation would have been a launch pad to talking about guys and relationships if he was a girlfriend. Like most guys, you can’t get much touchy-feely talk out of him.
“Did you say you’re living with Cassie? I thought she was down in LA partying with celebrity’s kids and rock stars?”
“Her marriage ended and her parents convinced her to move back up here. She’s now dating a professional football player.”
Gray gives me one of those big brother looks. “…And you are living with her, why?”
Defending my decision. “You sound like my mom. We’re sharing her grandmother’s refurbished condo. It’s a great place to live…. Anyway, I needed a place and her parents wanted her to have a roommate. Cassie and I have been friends since kindergarten, reconnecting will be fun.”
“Juliette, when it comes to Cassie, you’ve always been naive and forgiving.” For a guy, Gray is hyper aware of what is going down and good at zeroing in on what matters. He doesn’t say too much, and he never sugarcoats his comments.
“I’m twenty-four, what’s the worst thing that could happen? We don’t get along, and I move out?”
Gray continues to stare at me. He probably has more to say, but in an unusual move, he’s filtering his comments.
Although Gray went to a different elementary school than Cassie and me, we passed his house to get to junior high. The three of us faithfully rode our bikes to school together for two solid years. But as soon as Cassie transformed,
she stopped even saying hi to Gray when she passed him in the hall.
To change the trajectory of this conversation, I bring up fencing “Hey, I am working for Alex two nights a week, teaching a women’s beginner class.”
This lights Grey up. “I’m still fencing. Glad to hear you too are keeping it up. We should fence together sometime. It’s been a while.”
Rolling my eyes, I retort, “Only if I can tie both of your hands behind your back, otherwise you’ll kill me.”
With a dramatic voice, he says, “but wouldn’t it be a noble way to die’?”
This comment gives me a good chuckle since it reminds me of high school. The two of us would goof around at fencing tournaments by reenacting scenes from movies like Princess Bride. Gray would always start one of our tournaments off with the line, “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” Then, the loser of our battle—which usually was me—would always say something dramatic like, “But, it’s a noble way to die.”
The corner of Gray’s eyes crinkle as he taps his fingers on the table. “Hey, I’ve got to get going, I need to be back in Berkeley.” He pauses then adds, “This Christmas, I have three weeks off, and was thinking of going kayaking in the Sea of Cortez. Do you have time off? Do you want to join me?”
“Warm air, sparkling blue water…sounds wonderful.” I say immediately, but then pause to think about it for a second and realize, “This will be my first year without a Christmas vacation. I haven’t accrued any vacation time. Let me find out if we have a plant shutdown that week.”
Gray smiles. Before he leaves, I reactively stand up to give him a hug. He returns a great, big, warm hug.
As he walks away, I say, “Hey, keep in touch. I’ll see about Christmas.”
He nods and waves in reply.
Chapter 14
After crunching numbers for another hour, I head back home. Upon returning, Cassie is dressed in yoga attire, and making a green smoothly.
“Are you coming or going?” I ask.
“I’m heading out to a yoga class. Do you want some of my shake?”
“Sure.”
She pours me a glass.
After taking a big gulp, I start to choke. It tastes like bitter grass. “Ewe, how can you consume this?” I gag, while running to the sink to spit out the disgusting drink, and grab some water to wash away the taste.
Laughing she states, “Its barley grass, collard greens, cucumber, and kale—no calories and very healthy.”
“It must be an acquired taste.” I dryly comment while putting the empty glass in the dishwasher.
Before leaving the kitchen, I remember to tell her, “I ran into Gray Barber at Dana Street.”
Cassie just stares at me. “Really, are you still hanging out with Greyson Barber?”
“What’s wrong with him? Gray’s a good guy.” I defensively pronounce.
“Juliette, you can do a lot better than Gray Barber. He’s just, so…suburban, middle class, average.” She squishes up her nose as if Gray’s name and the adjectives she just used smell.
“Average? Cassie, Gray’s a smart guy; he got into college on a fencing scholarship and he’s now in law school at Berkeley. He spent the summer clerking for Diane Feinstein.”
Cassie gives me one of her bored looks, and sighs, “He’s more boring than I thought. Diane Whoever can’t be very famous, I’ve never heard of her. Anyways, you should just sleep with that guy and let him get over his hard on for you.”
I don’t know which comment disturbs me more—that she’s never heard of the woman who’s been senator of our state for twenty-plus years, or that she thinks Gray’s interested in me as more than a friend. Figuring the best answer would be to switch topics, I relate, “My college girlfriends were over last night. They’re really impressed with what you’ve done with this place. They freaked when I showed them your dressing room.”
She reacts with a satisfied smile. “You know that I am taking interior design courses. When I’m done, maybe your friends can hire me to glam up their places.”
Smiling, I nod. There haven’t been any signs around the apartment that she’s actually taking classes, but knowing Cassie’s tastes, I doubt if any of my friends could even afford to buy a pillow from her.
Chapter 15
In the afternoon, I head over to the Los Altos Hills public horse arena to meet up with Deborah, my childhood riding instructor—which gives me time to reflect what big a horse girl I was. Deborah was a great influence on my life. She was never focused on competition. With her leadership, I learned how to care for, understand, and control horses. When I arrive at the arena, there are six horses and six girls all doing something different. Waving to Deborah, I squeeze through the fence and walk over to where she stands. Deborah gives me a big, warm, motherly hug.
The hug abruptly ends as she shouts to one of the girls, “Serena, you go back around and retake that jump. Never let Stony take control.”
Now she turns back and smiles. “I’m so glad you could join us.”
“You know whenever I have the opportunity to make it out here, I do.”
“I could really use your help working with Allison and Meera.” She points to two girls who look to be about eleven years old. Heading over to where they’re riding, we work on getting them to use their legs for better control.
At some point, one of their mother’s comes to pick the two girls up. Soon after, another two girls get picked up. We now have two teenage girls and six horses remaining at the arena. Deborah approaches me. “If you have the time, it would be great if you can help me ride the horses back to the stables. After we take care of the horses, I can drop you back off at your car.”
One of my favorite activities is to ride the three miles through the hiking paths to the stables. Deborah and I each lead an extra horse. The horses also enjoy their fun gallop home.
As we groom the horses, I tell Deborah, “Kelly, Jennifer, Isabelle and I are heading over to Moe’s Alley in Santa Cruz tonight to go dancing. They’re picking me up at seven.”
“Well, after this I’m going home and putting my feet up. Maybe my husband will choose a movie for us to watch.” She follows it up with, “It’s nice having you around. I missed you this summer.”
All through college and grad school, I regularly dropped in on Deborah to help during her Saturday afternoon class.
Chapter 16
When I get, home Cassie isn’t around. After showering and taking a quick, pick-me-up nap, I dress in skinny jeans and boots. I choose a spaghetti strap cami with a cute tropical print under a soft sweater with a shawl collar and a ruffled border. A little after 7:00 p.m., Isabelle texts me, telling me they’re almost here. Locking up my place, I wait for them by the street.
Moe’s is a fun place; they have a live band and decent food. We always get there early to grab a table and eat some dinner. After joining up with some of Kelly’s wild cyclist friends, we order wood fired pizzas, a pitcher of beer, and a pitcher of margaritas. The cyclists all have a ragged look accentuated by their tattoos and piercings. I muse, what a different energy than the engineers I’m typically around.
The live music starts up; it’s a zydeco band. After taking off my sweater and heading out to the dance floor, I only take water breaks to quench my thirst. The atmosphere is lively—making it easy to dance with a bunch of different people.
One of Kelly’s friends seems to have his eyes on Jennifer. He has a rough look with lots of tattoos—not at all like the metrosexual guys Jennifer usually goes for. My internal voice just laughs, since he has no chance with her, though they seem to be having a good time.
Our group doesn’t leave until the bar closes at two. We’re invited to an after-hours party, but Isabelle and I have a soccer game in the morning and it’s still a forty-five-minute drive home. Jennifer drives while Kelly keeps her awake allowing, Isabelle and me to fall asleep in the back. While getting dropped off at my place, Isabelle wakes up just long enough to remind me
that she’ll pick me up at 10:00 a.m.
Chapter 17
I groan when my alarm rings at the crack of nine-thirty. Isabelle is right on time. We greet in her car—giving each other the look that says we should have gotten more sleep. Neither of us wanted to leave the bar early since we were having so much fun. We head over to the field. Not knowing if I’ll be playing, I still show up to express solidarity and cheer on the other women. Just in case the coach lets me play, I wear cleats and soccer shorts. While I’m warming up with my teammates, Mia leads us in drills, while Coach Max figures out our playing roster.
Max approaches. With a tip of his head, he says, “Stay warm. I may need you for substitutions.”
I’m thrilled. Playing this season was a long shot, but it turns out one of the other defenders is dealing with chronic Achilles tendonitis. At the end of the first quarter, Coach puts me in with Isabelle. We have been playing soccer together for six years. We’re small, quick, and fearless. Bigger women look at two little women in defense and underestimate how tough we are. After playing so long together, we instinctively know where the other one will be and how they will react. At halftime, we gulp down our water and get ready for the second half.
The second half of the game goes well until the last few minutes. We’re up 2–0. The women on the other team are getting frustrated—partially because Isabelle and I have kept them from getting any shots on goal. The midfielders and forwards from the other team are big women. Isabelle and I have learned to use our diminutive size to our advantage. After getting the ball away from one of their forwards, I successfully dribble it down the perimeter of the field away from our goal. Looking for a teammate to pass the ball to, I maneuver to get around an opposing player and run directly into what feels like the human version of a brick wall.
