Had Kat noticed me blushing?
It was clear Kat was marking her territory. I couldn’t decide if I should be flattered or annoyed. I wasn’t the cheating type either.
“I’m Samantha. Cori and I went to the same high school.” Sam didn’t seem bothered by Harold’s outburst or Kat’s pissing contest. She turned to me, “How come you never went to any of the dances in school?”
“We usually had a basketball game.”
“Liar! I was a cheerleader, and I never missed one of your games.” She looked to Kat. “Have you ever seen her play basketball? The fans went wild watching Cori play.” Again, she turned to me. “When I read that you blew your knee in your sophomore year in college and had to miss a year, I felt like crying. Hancock Prep never had a player as good as you, Cori—before or since.”
I was speechless. I never knew Samantha noticed me at all in high school. We would say hi when we ran into each other, but that was the extent of it. Sam had her own group of friends, and I had a small group I hung out with. Mostly, I was too busy running from one activity to another to have time for friendships.
Kat came to my rescue. “I’ve seen some footage from her games, and occasionally I can talk her into a wicked game of horse.” Kat put her arm around my waist and kissed my cheek.
Her actions made me want to giggle, but I didn’t dare.
“So spill it, Cori. How come you never went to any of our dances?” Samantha crossed her arms.
“No one asked me.”
Harold nodded knowingly. I’m pretty sure none of the girls he asked ever accepted, if he had dared to ask.
“Can you teach me to dance, Cori?” he begged.
The thought terrified me. Harold couldn’t even walk normally, how was I going to teach him to dance?
“We can!” Kat piped up.
Well, if anyone could teach him, Kat could, and clearly I was signed up to be her assistant.
“Shit, I may sign up for a lesson myself,” Samantha teased.
At least I thought she was teasing.
“Come on, you don’t need lessons,” I said. “You were a cheerleader.”
Kat’s grip on my waist grew tighter. Was she scared I might chase after a former high school cheerleader?
“But I’ve never been able to dance like that.” Samantha looked completely awed.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked her, and then, when I saw Kat’s face, added, “Harold, Kat, you need another? My turn to buy a round.” It appeased Kat some, but I could tell she still felt insecure. That was new. I had never known Kat to act jealous or unsure. Something was up, and I intended to find out what.
“I’ll have a beer,” said Samantha.
Harold motioned to his whiskey, which he hadn’t touched since taking his first sip. “I’m good, thanks.”
I turned to Kat. “What exotic drink can I bring you, sweetie?” Okay, I was laying it on thick, but I didn’t want to have a fight later, and I didn’t want her to worry over nothing. My crush was a long time ago.
“Oh, I’ll just have a beer, too,” said Kat, as if that was all she ever drank. I noticed that she had moved her martini glass to the adjacent table.
Is she actually worried about losing me? I pondered as I left to fetch the drinks.
The bar gave the illusion of being super fancy. Mirrors behind the bottles of liquor gave the impression the supply was endless. Lights above the bar changed color every few seconds. While I waited to be served, I watched the lights. It didn’t take long to figure out that they changed according to the colors of the rainbow—how gay is that? It was a perfect example of why I despise gay bars—pure cheese. I wasn’t the type to proclaim I was gay. I never wore rainbow necklaces or earrings. Gay pride parade? Never been to one. Once, I got stuck in traffic in Boston. When I realized the gay pride parade was the cause, I muttered, “Damn gays.”
Kat had swatted my arm, although I think she felt the same way. Why did so many have to shout from the rooftops, “I’m here and I’m queer!” Not once have I felt that need. Having said that, I usually don’t mind gays who do. I may roll my eyes at flashing rainbow lights, and I may get upset sitting in a rental car that is charging by the hour because of a gay parade, but overall, I just don’t care what others do. I’ve never felt the need to care. Kat thinks it’s because I grew up in an accepting family, so not once have I been made to feel different. She might be right. Or it could be that I just don’t give a crap about my gayness.
“What’ll ya have?” the bartender asked me in a silky voice. She was butch with short, spiky hair, and a nose ring. She wasn’t my usual type at all, but her skin was flawless and her green eyes were hypnotic. The sexy, womanly voice didn’t match her exterior at all, either, which I found captivating. I love a paradox.
“You see that woman standing there?” I pointed to Kat. “The one in the super-tight shirt.”
The bartender nodded, appreciating the view.
“I need a fancy drink to impress the shit out of her.”
The butch bartender gave me a glance that said, “You have no chance in hell.”
I wanted to inform her that Kat was indeed already my girlfriend, but I didn’t. I wanted a drink to impress Kat so she wouldn’t get too flustered about Samantha.
I returned with the drinks as soon as possible, worried that in my absence Harold might say something insulting or Kat might act too bitchy toward Samantha.
Harold looked relieved when I set a glass of water in front of him. He took several gulps, as though he’d just spent days in the Mojave Desert. Kat smiled when I handed her the exotic martini Butch had put together for her. The bartender told me what was in it, but I couldn’t hear over the gay men behind me screeching because one had spilled a drink on another. Apparently, the drink ruined a three-hundred-dollar shirt.
Kat’s drink looked sophisticated and fancy, which was all I cared about. She took a sip and smiled. I raised my glass to the female bartender, who couldn’t stop staring at my girlfriend. The devil inside me screamed that I should give Kat a passionate kiss just to show the bartender that I was perfectly capable of getting the hot chick. Then again, she might think her concoction had worked and make a play herself.
Luckily, the conversation was flowing between Kat and Sam. Kat, probing for dirt, asked Samantha what she did, where she lived, and about her family. Both Samantha and I are only children; I vaguely remembered that from high school.
Samantha had approached me after one of my games and said, “We have something in common.”
I just stood there foolishly. At the time, my crush on Sam had been out of control. She was slightly sweaty from cheerleading, and it glistened on her skin, adding to her appeal. At the time, I had thought, Don’t say something idiotic! It meant I allowed myself too few words.
“What?” was my brilliant response. Maybe that was the first clue that I’d have problems finishing my novel—I wasn’t good with words under pressure.
“We are both only children.”
I continued to stare at her. “Oh. That’s neat.” I had been holding a basketball, and even though I never did so during a game, or during practice for that matter, I fumbled it and it rolled away from me pathetically.
Another cheerleader called Samantha’s name, and the last thing I remember was Sam looking back over her shoulder and giving me a slight wave. I half waved back, since I wasn’t entirely sure she was waving at me, and I didn’t want to look like that nitwit on the sidewalk who waved foolishly at someone who was waving at someone else.
Kat’s voice brought me back to the present. “Oh, you’re an only child. It’s good that Cori is really close with her family. We have dinner with them every week.”
I started to say that it wasn’t every week, because that sounded lame (even though we do), but Samantha beat me to the punch.
“Me too!” She turned to me and whacked me playfully on my shoulder.
Kat looked peeved. I think she was trying to co
nvince Samantha I was a boring fuddy-duddy and not worth chasing after. Instead, she’d made a connection between the two of us. Maybe I didn’t have to speak the entire night. I’d just let Kat make the moves for me. That is, if I was trying to make any moves—and I wasn’t.
“So are you a dy…lesbian?” inquired Harold.
His boldness silenced even Kat. I thought it more than likely that Samantha was here with some gay guy friends, and that she was a fag hag. Not once did I think she was a lesbo. I’d never considered it in high school, and even after stumbling into her in a gay bar, I still didn’t think so. She was just open-minded. Had to be.
Harold was the only one who didn’t look uncomfortable at the question.
Then Samantha laughed it off. “Well, if you really want to know, Harold, I think bisexual is the most accurate description. However, I haven’t dated a man in years.”
I almost fell over. I think I even stopped breathing for a minute.
Kat wasn’t happy, but she plastered a grin on her face. “Does that mean you’re dating a woman?” She looked keen for the right answer.
“No. My girlfriend and I broke up last week.”
She was on the rebound.
Dammit! Why did I have to be in a relationship?
Wait a minute, Cori, you aren’t looking! Knock it the fuck off.
Kat put an arm around Samantha and gave her a good squeeze, her breasts almost bursting out of her top as she did so.
As a result, Harold’s eyes almost popped out of his head.
Samantha either didn’t notice or was very good at pretending.
Seeing the two of them together was odd. Kat wore tight jeans and a revealing top that was losing the battle of controlling her assets.
Samantha wore jeans, not too tight or loose, and a semi-tight Red Sox shirt. Many would find Kat the sexier of the two.
I was torn.
Kat looked hot, no doubt about it. But Samantha’s outfit hinted there was more to see, and that it wouldn’t be a disappointment. And, Samantha exuded confidence. Kat normally did, but this evening her vulnerable side was making a rare appearance. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
I needed a moment, so I excused myself, saying I needed to pee. I didn’t put it like that, of course. Only Samantha noticed that I had said anything at all. Harold was too busy staring at Kat’s boobs, and Kat was too busy sizing up Samantha.
The bathroom was so disgusting, I decided not to pee. I had to, but going anywhere near that toilet was too much for my delicate system. My family hired maids for all of my life. For years, I would never use a toilet outside of our home. When I went to school, I had to. Then I discovered the nurse’s office had a semi-clean restroom, so I started using that one. My family gave a lot of money to my private school, so no one said a word to me about it. I feel somewhat bad about that now, because it was an abuse of my family’s money. Then again, it was either that or dash home every few hours. Or, I suppose, pee in the woods behind the school. That still seemed more appealing than using the shared restrooms. Secretly, I wished there were some trees close to this dive for me to squat behind.
When I rejoined the group, Kat and Harold were still interrogating Samantha.
“I thought you were planning a wedding,” said Harold.
This piqued Kat’s interest. If it were true, Samantha might be too heart-broken to be interested in anyone for a long time?
“What made you think that?” Samantha crinkled her nose and sipped her skunk beer. She pulled the glass away from her lips, inspecting it, before taking another slug.
“I thought you were away on your honeymoon,” explained Harold, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off my girlfriend’s boobs. If it were anyone else, I would be irritated and would have whacked the back of his head. But it was probably the closest Harold had ever come to a naked female, so I let it slide for now.
“Honeymoon!” Samantha chortled. “My family went to Italy for a few weeks to celebrate my parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary.”
“I knew it had something to do with marriage.” Harold smiled meekly.
I wanted to kick him in the shins. He had me convinced that Samantha was married. Again, not that it mattered. My crush was in high school. Years ago. It didn’t matter now. Of course, I had also believed she was straight. Her being bisexual never crossed my mind. I still couldn’t picture Samantha eating pussy.
“How long did you and your girlfriend date?” Kat steered the conversation back to her fact-finding mission.
“Five years.”
Kat stifled a gleeful smile. “Oh wow, that’s too bad. It will take a long time to get over that one.” She was laying it on thick. She put her arm around Samantha’s shoulder again, and once more Kat’s tits almost spilled out of her top.
Harold looked like he needed CPR, but for someone who wasn’t breathing or moving, he seemed blissful enough. We needed to get this boy laid. He would probably die from happiness if that happened, but it would be a happy death, at least.
“Not really. We’re still friends. The breakup was a long time coming, really.” Not a trace of sadness flickered in Samantha’s eyes, but I sensed a cheerless air. Was she putting on a brave face?
After she answered a few more questions from Kat the Inquisitor, Samantha excused herself to rejoin her friends. Before leaving, she said, “See you two Monday morning.”
When she was out of earshot, Kat asked, “Monday morning?”
“She’s a regular at the coffee shop.” I released my grip on Kat’s waist and grabbed my beer.
“Oh, that’s nice.” Her voice said otherwise.
It was time for damage control. “Harold, what do you say, have you had enough for your first experience? How about we grab some grub next door?”
He looked around smugly and said, “Sure. Not much happening here tonight.”
I loved his act. At first, it bugged the shit out of me when he pretended he was the coolest thing ever. Oh, sorry, Mr. Kool.
Now, I loved his bravado. It was fake, but I found it endearing. Not many men try to act suave while sporting a tan mock turtleneck sweater and black chinos.
During a late-night snack at the Last Drop, Kat grilled Harold about Samantha. Not once did she question me, even though we went to high school together. Truth be known, Harold knew more about Samantha than I did. It was surprising how much we learned about our customers. Kat asked him questions, and I paid close attention to what he said, without looking like I was interested.
Munching on a fried mozzarella stick smothered in ranch sauce, I listened to Harold say that Samantha had worked for the same company since graduating from college. Every seven or eight months, she would put a new business card into the raffle bowl, and Harold noticed that her title always changed.
Kat sniffed loudly. Harold didn’t notice as he nibbled on a buffalo chicken wing, smearing sauce all over his cheeks and chin. Before I found Harold a girl, I decided I needed to work on his manners. Maybe I should call in the big guns: my mom and aunt. Both were paragons of grace.
Kat grunted, obviously still peeved that Samantha was a go-getter. Inwardly, I smiled. A woman after my own heart. All of a sudden, I had the urge to write. Instead, I grabbed another cheese stick, still thinking of my novel. Why couldn’t I nail the ending?
Chapter Six
My mom and I bickered a lot when we were around other family members. However, we upheld a tradition that started when I was just a kid. Twice a month, we got a manicure and pedicure together. Mom hated helping me out with my bills, but that didn’t mean she didn’t spoil me in other ways. This was one of her many ways.
It was our mother–daughter time, a time when she was usually much more relaxed since she wasn’t competing with her sister, her husband, or Kat. This was when Mom and I had our heart-to-heart talks.
“I think I’m going to hire a private detective to catch your cheating father in the act,” Mom stated bluntly as she sat in the chair, her eyes closed.
I glanced down at my nail tech, who didn’t flinch. I bet they overheard a lot of crazy stories. No doubt they have been trained not to react or show any emotion. Each time, we had the same girls work on our nails. Over the years, I’m sure they’ve become accustomed to my mother’s outrageous outbursts. Last month, she worried my father had cheated on his taxes and would be arrested. This month, she was obsessed with the suspicion my father was cheating on her. I had steeled myself for more chatter on the subject, but I didn’t think she’d go as far as hiring a private dick.
“Oh, Mom! Dad is not having an affair. Look at the man. Who would—?”
“Go ahead, Cori. Say it. Who would sleep with the man?”
“That’s not what I meant…Okay, it was. But that’s because he’s my father. I can’t see him as a lover.” I fidgeted in my seat and shook my head, trying to knock some sense into my pea-brain.
“What, do you think you’re a product of Immaculate Conception? A miracle baby?” She sniggered. “Back in the day, your father was a magnificent lover. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
If my fingers hadn’t been recently painted, I would have shoved them deep into each ear until they made contact in the middle. “Mother, please! I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Kat is right. You are uptight when it comes to sex.”
I whipped my head around to face her. “Stop talking to my girlfriend about sex. It’s weird!”
“That’s the problem with you, Cori. You can’t talk about S. E. X. Kat and I are starting an erotica book club. I urge you to join. It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever done. When you were a kid, you loved joining groups. Lord knows how many classes, lessons, and sporting events I drove you to before you got your license.” She blew on her wet nails. “It would make Kat happier.”
“What? Has she said anything to you?” I didn’t want to know, but I really did want to at the same time. I knew Kat was freakier in bed than me, but I didn’t think I was a bad lover. Was I a bad lay? Was Kat sexually frustrated? Good Lord, did my mom know this? I’d never hear the end of it.
Confessions From A Coffee Shop Page 8
