“I’m just trying to learn from you. You know, for Dr. Woman.”
That didn’t even make sense. Chris and movies had nothing to do with her teaching Christopher about sex. “I don’t think this pertains—”
“You know what this does pertain to? That time you and Chris watched a movie in the dorms.”
“Did the two of you snort crack while I was changing clothes?”
“That reminds me of the time we were walking across campus, and your heel got stuck in a crack in the sidewalk, and Chris caught your arm to keep you from falling.” That never happened—Jasmine was officially over her limit if she had resorted to making things up.
Silence was the best way to approach my best friend when she was on a mission. Mistakenly, I made eye contact with Candi who raised her brows suggestively and handed me another shot. I leaned over to see every shot glass we owned lined up waiting to be filled. Drunk Alex would not happen with these two around.
“Can someone put on a movie, please?” So we can stop all this silly chatter.
“Oh my God, you got that shot glass when you and Chris went to Gatlinburg—back when it was cool to collect them.” My roomie appeared pleased with herself.
Candi didn’t look like she had a clue what was going on. And I was lost.
“What are the two of you up to?” I had to turn my neck in both directions to see them, and each time I did, the one behind me attempted to communicate with the one in front of me. I would end up with whiplash trying to see them both at the same time.
This time it was Candi who lobbed the next grenade. “Are those the boxers Chris wore?” It’s always the sweet ones who blindside you. Candi had been taken to the dark side where she now resided with Jasmine.
I leaned over Candi again, grabbed two shots, and swallowed them one after the other before slamming them down a little too forcefully. “This would be a lot easier if one of you would tell me what your motivation is. I can answer your questions, and we can get on with movie night. And if the goal is to get dirt on Chris, I’m not ready to give any.” The doorbell rang before either of them could say anything, and Jasmine popped off the couch to answer it.
“Food’s here.”
With Jasmine distracted, it gave me an opening to corner Candi. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, not much. I had a client at work today who cut off ten inches of her hair to donate to Locks of Love. After I’d packaged it up and gotten it ready to mail, I asked her if a wig were made with her hair and the person who got it murdered someone and left behind her hair, would she have to go to jail since her DNA was at the scene?”
I stared at her in utter disbelief: one that Candi had this rather insightful and complex forethought, and two, that she shared it with a client who’d just made a selfless sacrifice for the good of someone else.
“Can you believe she snatched the packaged out of my hand and decided not to donate her locks?”
This did not come as a shock to me, although Candi seemed all kinds of perplexed by the woman’s rash behavior. I needed more alcohol.
Jasmine closed the door with a thud after paying for what appeared to be pizza. I hadn’t realized just how famished I was until the smell filled the room. My confusion took second place to hunger until Jasmine threw down the gauntlet in the form of a takeout box from Bobby’s.
Tears filled my eyes. Chris and I were trying to heal an old wound, but neither Jasmine nor Candi knew that. I wasn’t sure which hurt more, that neither of my friends felt they could just ask me about the relationship or that Jasmine thought the only way to get a reaction was by pulling the most painful memory she could and tossing it in front of me.
“What the hell is that?” We, more specifically I, hadn’t even so much as ridden by Bobby’s since Chris left town. And if I hadn’t let Chris start to nudge his way back in, this would be torture instead of just slightly painful. As it stood, it still hurt simply because Chris and I hadn’t been able to get back to where we were when he left. I loved Bobby’s, and it was a stiff reminder of just how far we still had to go.
“Pizza.” Jasmine’s flippant response would have been appropriate if we’d been talking about some random hole in the wall, but this was her way of forcing Chris in my face. I just didn’t know why. She’d always be loyal to me, though they had been friends at one point, too. She’d never played devil’s advocate when Chris and I drifted apart, but she’d never engaged in putting him down, either.
“How can you be so blasé? What’s your game plan here, Jasmine? And why drag Candi into it?” I wiped my eyes, realizing there was no need for tears.
Chris was at my fingertips; I was the one currently keeping him at arm’s length. We were coming back together, slowly.
“Because Candi can help you win him back!” Her fists were balled at her sides when she stomped her foot to accentuate her point. Jasmine looked like a five-year-old on the verge of a temper tantrum when she didn’t get her way.
It dawned on me, I had never told Candi that my Chris was her Patrick. My eyes darted between them, hoping one would offer up some sort of an explanation. “Wait—are you telling me Candi knows the connection? Between Chris and Patrick?” Jasmine nodded, and Candi gave me a toothy grin. “How long have you known, Candi?”
She shrugged with a look of pity, and then stared at Jasmine, silently begging for help.
“Were you planning to tell me?” When I didn’t receive any answers, my shoulders slumped, and I attempted to offer them something to stop this before it got any more out of hand.
“I don’t need your help—although, I appreciate you bringing Candi into the circle, Jasmine.” Sarcasm dripped from my words, yet it was clear I wasn’t angry.
She would have found out sooner or later, at least this way, I wasn’t the one who had to explain any of it.
“Why won’t you just let me handle this on my own?”
Candi wilted into the couch. I could tell by her body language, she didn’t know what Jasmine had dragged her into. She just thought she was helping someone find their fairy tale, and Candi considered Chris and me friends of hers.
“Because you’re doing nothing with it. He’s not going to wait forever, Alex. Dr. Fellatio doesn’t have to be the only thing remaining from that relationship. It doesn’t have to be the only way you can be close to him, anymore.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Don’t you want to give that up? Have the real thing instead?” Jasmine cut me off before I could tell her what she wanted to hear.
A few weeks ago, I would have argued that was all I had left. Now I saw it from a different perspective. “I get to share that piece of us—me and him—so other people experience that passion—”
“You’re not God. You can’t create love for other people, especially when you don’t have it for yourself, Alex. Dr. Fellatio has wicked abilities, but not even you can spin gold from straw. Have you even talked to Chris about the possibility of fixing things?” If she stopped interrupting me, she might be pleased to find I had.
Her eyes grew wider when she lifted her brow. Something I couldn’t identify danced in her gaze—something akin to mischief. But it was the way the corner of her mouth twitched as she fought a grin that had me wondering what she was up to.
My mind filled with thoughts of Candi’s involvement in this. She lived with him. Jasmine worked with him. And I’d been a pawn playing their game. I’d been so close to spilling me guts—telling them everything. Now I wanted to know what they’d been up to behind my back. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sat back down on the couch and crossed her hands in her lap just as she chanced looking at Candi who was trying to become part of the couch to avoid being caught in the middle of whatever this was.
I couldn’t help the smirk that twitched on my lips or the delight I took in having caught them red-handed. Only Jasmine would think having Candi as a sidekick could work in her fa
vor.
“You’ve been acting strange for weeks. Have you talked to Chris?” I should just come clean and tell them what had transpired, but now I was more curious to know what they weren’t telling me and way more entertained.
“Chris who?”
“Cut the crap, Jasmine. All of a sudden, Carl has a BFF on the fifth floor and is going upstairs to play golf, and you’ve been more scarce than a tail on the ass of a donkey at a child’s birthday party.”
“He might have mentioned something, but I can’t be too sure. I only pretend to listen when he talks.”
Candi finally stopped gaping in order to giggle at Jasmine’s overly dramatic performance—subtlety had never been her forte.
“I’m waiting.”
She rolled her eyes in frustration. “Look, Alex, my devotion lies with you. No matter how many times Chris calls me to his office, I won’t give your secrets away or help him arrange clandestine meetings, rides to the airport or origami art shows. Nope. Not gonna happen. Girl code.” That would explain where one of my flowers had disappeared to.
This could take all day, and I was already several shots into a strong buzz.
“And if he happened to mention that he missed you and wanted to talk, I wouldn’t encourage that no matter how much I believe the two of you should be together. You’re my best friend, and I’d protect you at all costs. I’d throw him in front of a car going eighty-four miles an hour hoping he’d get a concussion and amnesia so he’d forget about you before I let him hurt you again.”
I was seconds away from getting a pillow off the couch and beating her with it. But now that she’d tied the knot in the noose, I wanted to see how long it would take her to hang herself. So I crossed my arms, hid my amusement, and let her go.
“But if he were able to coax me into talking—which he wouldn’t, because I’m the most loyal person you’ll ever meet—I’d convince him he was totally at fault. And I would never confirm just how much ice cream you actually ate after he’d left or the fact that your jeans gave you camel toe for a year.”
“You didn’t.” I didn’t have to pretend to be mortified…those were tough months and jeans that are too tight don’t look good on anyone.
Candi got up and slinked out of the room. She fumbled around in the kitchen while Jasmine stepped up to put the proverbial rope around her neck.
“Nope. I just told you I wouldn’t. Are you listening?”
“What did you say to him?”
“If I had a chance to give him any advice—which I haven’t—the first thing I would’ve said would be to find his balls. But, if in fact, he hadn’t left them in California, he might want to ditch Passive Patrick and reintroduce Chris to Lexi. Hopefully, he picked them up on his trip.”
“So you have talked to him!”
“Nope. Not a word.”
“Then how did you know he was gone?”
“I read it the last time I was in the men’s room. Carl prefers to bend me over in stall two—I think he likes to read the gossip on the wall from over my shoulder.” She dismissed it with a flick of her wrist, as if any of what she said were normal. “Don’t worry, the only people who see it are the men on our floor and Bearded Betty. But Betty never talks, she just breathes heavy near the urinals.”
Having a conversation with Jasmine was like trying to walk a cat on a leash. No matter how hard I pulled, she dug in and refused to budge. I’d be outraged at her interference if Chris hadn’t already made a move and I hadn’t allowed him in. As it stood, I was simply baffled she’d meddled behind my back and included Candi in her harebrained scheme.
“Based on his clout at Seneca and how quickly he could have me fired, I wouldn’t risk trying to learn his motivation for talking to you. Mums the word. But had I asked, and had he confessed how much he missed you or mentioned that it was killing him to be so close, but so far apart, I couldn’t tell you that, either.”
This was like putting together a five-thousand-piece puzzle without the picture on the top of the box and a hundred missing pieces. Jasmine’s breadcrumbs were scattered in a trail a trained dog couldn’t follow. And Candi had clearly followed the lead of her master. What neither of them realized was Chris was the baker, and they’d gotten day old bread. I bit my lip to stifle my laughter and let her continue in a way only Jasmine could.
“And if he’d said the sweetest things I’d ever heard about not having a future without you, I couldn’t share that without a bowl of popcorn and a front-row seat to the show. But since I wouldn’t betray you or give your secrets away, there won’t be a show, and sadly, no popcorn.”
My head spun trying to figure out what parts of her answers were things to hold onto, what to let go, and whether or not to let her swing from the tree she’d hung herself on or have mercy and cut her some slack. I leaned toward the latter of the two, but Jasmine wasn’t quite done.
“Don’t you worry. I wasn’t the one who gave him your number or told him you’d been single since he left—you can thank Carl for that last part. Our bond is sacred, closed like a vault, surrounded by armed guards. Even if he put forth a valiant effort, I’m a good friend. I wouldn’t let you down.”
All I could do was stare at her and blink—slowly.
“And don’t worry, I didn’t tell him you were my doctor.” Candi returned from the kitchen with four plates and napkins. When she set them down, she made a motion to zip her mouth shut, turn the key, and then toss it aside. She missed the part where that meant she remained quiet. “Dr. Fellatio’s secret is safe with me. But I bet it would give him a big head to know what you’d been doing with your spare time.” Her voice carried in the otherwise quiet apartment. “Big head—Dr. Fellatio…did you see what I did there?” She snorted and giggled.
I just shook my head and wondered why she’d brought four plates when there were only three of us here. At this point, I didn’t have a clue what secrets the two of them had spilled and what Chris knew. He’d obviously implicated them in his coup, although it didn’t seem he’d reciprocated information about things changing between us. It was nicely played on his part, but it left me in a bit of a quandary about what he wanted them to know.
Before I could decipher what to share with them or keep to myself, Jasmine’s bedroom door swung open violently, drawing my attention. “What’s all this talk about head? And why didn’t I know you were the infamous Dr. Fellatio? We’ve shared a cube for five years, Alex—five! That’s something you tell your cubie.” Carl appeared in the hallway in nothing but boxers, a wife beater, and tube socks.
“What the hell?” This couldn’t get any weirder. “How long have you been in Jasmine’s room listening to this?”
“Since we had sex before you got home. I thought it would be rude to interfere in the girl time, so I waited for my little bambino to return for a quickie between films. Then I heard mention of pizza—and noticed no one offered to share.” He directed his comment to Jasmine before turning back to me. “I couldn’t help myself when three gorgeous women started talking about blowjobs and the infamous doctor.” He wagged his brow in my directions—gross.
I closed my eyes. Counted to ten. Reopened them hoping this was all an exhaustion-induced nightmare. It was not. My next hope was that Carl forgot everything he’d heard, grabbed a slice of pizza, and then went back to Jasmine’s room to wait for a piece of ass. He did not.
“So you’re the urban legend in the flesh? The Dr. Fellatio all the guys want their wives to meet, and all the girls want to learn from?” He raised his brow and then scanned my body from head to toe and back up. “No wonder Patrick’s been relentless in getting our help to nab you. If he’s heard of your reputation, he probably wants to hire the good physician for a little one-on-one time.” He winked at me. Somehow, Carl missed the memo that Chris and I had a history. That, or he hadn’t put together the fact that Patrick and Chris were one and the same…or maybe his little brain only picked up on words like pizza and fellatio, therefore missing any mention of a possible sui
tor for me.
I snatched a throw pillow and lobbed it at his head, knocking him off balance. “Shut. Up. Carl.” I turned back to Candi and Jasmine. Here’s where I could have ended a portion of this—I could have admitted what little I had to tell them about Chris, but there was still the matter of the fraternization policy. Giving these three information would leave two of them knowing something that could cost them their jobs or put them in a position to have to lie or implicate themselves if they were asked questions at work. This was precisely why they shouldn’t meddle.
Candi reached out to touch my arm. “Sweetie, you can still have that fairy tale if you’ll just let down your hair so Patrick can climb your wall.” She was apparently the only one who’d managed to stay focused on the conversation prior to Carl’s interruption.
Carl squinted his eyes at Candi. “Was that some pornographic reference to Rapunzel? Or are you really that bad at metaphors?”
“It made total sense,” Candi argued.
“So it’s the English language as a whole you don’t understand?” Not even Carl’s witty rhetoric could salvage this. He turned to Jasmine. “Never trust a woman who drives a bright-yellow car with plastic flowers on the dash.”
“Stop! Please.” My outburst startled the three musketeers. “I need you guys to let me handle this on my own.”
“Does that mean we can eat the Ben & Jerry’s Jasmine had me pick up on the way here from the office?”
Jasmine swatted Carl’s chest.
“It’s all yours.” I needed some fresh air.
The three of them totally overwhelmed me. As humorous as this was knowing both sides—theirs and reality—Chris and I hadn’t talked about where we were going or what we wanted people to know. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Dressed like that? Are you trying to pick up new clients?” The fact that Carl thought Dr. Fellatio worked a street corner should concern me. But it didn’t.
“Oh my God, Carl—shut up.” Jasmine rolled her eyes.
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