"Oh, ex-wife?"
"No, dead wife."
Willa made a sucking sound through her teeth. "Oh, how horrible. How long ago?"
"I didn't ask, but based on my Facebook recon, it was about two years ago."
"Jesus. He must have been devastated. Did they have kids?"
"I didn't see any pictures and he didn't mention it, so I don't think he does. Plus, Rebel would have mentioned it, or at least I would hope." As they walked to refill their coffee, Tess continued. "I tried to keep things surface casual. I mean, bringing up his dead wife on the first date might have been a bit of a mood killer...he slipped a few times, now that I think about it. Not only about the store name, but a few other times."
They walked back into Tess's office and Willa's smile was thin. "I'm sure it's hard for him. Poor guy...so, other than the untimely death of his wife, he seems nice?" Willa perched herself on the edge of Tess's desk.
"Yes, he was really nice and good looking. We had a good time."
"Did you guys do it?"
"Willa! It was our first date." Willa gave her a look. "Okay, not on this first date. He's a widower and he seems old school, like a gentleman, take it slow, doesn't screw on the first date type of guy."
"Did he at least kiss you?"
"Yes, on the cheek."
"That's not a freaking kiss, Tess. It's not a kiss if there isn't tongue."
Tess nudged her friend on the shoulder and laughed. "What kind of bullshit logic is that? If there are lips involved, it's a kiss...tongue, although welcomed, is optional."
Willa gave her a dubious look. "Whatever you say. Sounds like nice was code for lame after all."
"It wasn't, really. I don't think he's dated much or at all. I like him, so I can't go in there all glands blazing. I don't want to scare him off by being a slut."
They laughed. "Tess, you're a grown woman. There are no sluts...only mature women getting some."
"I know. I just mean I didn't get the 'let's get naked' vibe from him. I did, however, get the 'let's get naked' vibe from the guy I met at happy hour last night."
"Wow, you are a slut...I'm so jealous."
"Come on, I'm sure Ben's an animal." Tess had a hard time picturing Willa's quiet hipster boyfriend getting freaky under the sheets, but it was always the quiet types that surprised you.
"Oh, he's great and all, but sometimes I envy your ability to sample—it's like you're at the 31 Flavors counter and I'm in front of the vanilla soft serve machine."
Tess shook her head and laughed. "But with vanilla soft serve you know what you're getting and you know it will be satisfying. If you have too many flavors to choose from, one night might be mint chocolate chip and the next could be Guava Praline."
"Ew...I wouldn't trade Ben for the world, but it's nice to bang vicariously through you."
"That's what friends are for...what are you going to do if I finally settle down?"
"I guess we'll belly up to the soft serve machine together."
The following week Tess was working through lunch—typing while scarfing a chicken burrito, to be exact. She had to get her rough draft to her boss by the end of the day. She'd already done most of the research, so she filled in the meat of the story with information she gathered during a phone interview. She had a few more follow up questions she would conduct in person the following week. She'd have to leave that part off, which was fine as long as she included her questions. This piece was about a local chef who had made it to the finals of a popular, and respected, cooking reality show. Tess was covering the new restaurant the chef opened and his experience on the show. They would get pictures during the interview. Tess usually had input as to which pictures were included in the final article, but her boss had the final say. She didn't usually get to cover the dining section of the magazine, but Tess pitched it as a community piece since it was more about the chef who had become a local celebrity. One of the the perks of the job was getting to attend things that under normal circumstances she wouldn't have been able to, like hot restaurant openings, or backstage at a sold out concert— the press pass could be a powerful thing.
She had another set of interviews to contend with, none of which had anything to do with her paying job. Yes, the stupid reunion interviews. The reunion that wasn't even hers...for people she didn't even really like. Why the hell had she agreed to do this again? Oh that's easy...her ego. All Lindsay Adams had to do was throw out a few compliments, reporter this and writer that, and Tess had taken the bait like a starved puppy. She'd been kicking herself about it ever since. Not enough to renege on her agreement. No, that would have been too easy. Tess threw her burrito wrapper into the trash bin, burping as genteelly as one could burp. The email titled: Interview List sat in her box unopened.
"Might as well get this over with," she muttered.
And click.
The list, as promised, consisted of four people. There were a list of questions included as well. Tess was wondering why the hell they needed her if all the questions had been written. They were mostly generic questions about career and family. The whole, what have you been up to since high school bit. Two girls—Cammie Crenshaw and Lexy Woods—both nice enough girls from what Tess remembered. Cammie was a cheerleader and homecoming queen, your basic Ms. Popularity, every guy had a boner for type. Lexy was the valedictorian and president of the debate team, your basic over-achiever, most likely to succeed and make everyone else look like ignorant chumps type. The guys were more of the same. Tanner Timberland, class president and quarterback, insert lady boner.
"Uh. What? No way!" Tess covered a squeal with her hand. The last name, oh the last name, was none other than...wait for it...grab an extra pair of panties...cue "Dream weaver"...Wesley Caraway—the hottest, nicest, most orgasm inducing just by looking at him, boy in the history of Crestview Ridge Prep School. Tess could see him now, riding in the back of the classic mustang convertible waving to the throngs of adoring coeds during the homecoming parade. Dark hair combed neatly except for the one curl that could never be tamed. Eyes bluer than...insert anything really blue. If there was any boy Tess crushed on more than Wesley, she couldn't think of one. But, she was pretty sure anyone with ovaries would have lifted their plaid skirts up for him.
The thought of seeing and actually talking to Wesley made her palms sweat. Great, now her breathing was shallow. Was she having a panic attack? She spied the paper bag her burrito came in and put it up to her mouth. She inhaled deeply despite the onion/spice aroma wafting from the sack. She watched the bag go in and out, in and out, in and out.
There, that's better. He's just a person. And you are a grown, mature woman. With a hot ass and an awesome life. Yes, that's right. In and out, in and out.
And of course her boss chose to cruise by her office, right as she took her last huge inhale of the bag. He shook his head and walked away. Guess her head in a bag wasn't as shocking as she thought it might be. Then he yelled, "Willa! Help your girl. She's having a moment."
Tess rolled her eyes and wadded the sack into a ball, returning it to it's rightful place with the rest of the trash.
"Are you okay?" Willa asked, breathlessly.
"Did you run over here?"
"No, I walked quickly...screw off, I haven't been to the gym in two weeks."
Tess smiled. "Thank you for breaking your cardio hiatus to check on me. I was just having a mild panic attack. I'm good now."
"What the hell happened? Your mom?"
"Ha. Not this time. I got some unexpected news and it threw me for a loop is all."
"What's with the tight lip routine? Spill it. It's the least you can do. I think I twisted an ankle coming over here." Willa's heels were about five inches high. Tess gestured to the seat in front of her desk. "Sit."
Willa waited quietly as Tess's nails clicked across her keyboard. A few minutes later she turned her screen towards her friend.
"OM flipping G. Who is that?"
"That, is the source of my freak out," Tess admitt
ed.
"I don't get it." Willa crossed her legs, brow crinkled. Tess explained the interview she'd been roped into.
"So you get to interview him?"
"Yep."
"Like in person?"
"It doesn't have to be, but I hope so."
"And you had a huge crush on him?"
"Me and everyone else with a vagina...probably some guys, too. You remember the movie about the cheerleaders who rob a bank?"
"I love that movie...so he was the Jack of your school. Now I get it. Ours was Josh Ferguson. Yum." Willa looked off at nothing in particular, obviously having her own moment. She sighed and shook her head, adjusting her glasses. "So what's the problem? He's probably bald with a gut. No way he still looks like that." They both stared at the yearbook picture Lindsay had provided.
"Wanna bet?" Tess grabbed her phone and pulled up her main source for stalking, Facebook. She wasn't friends with Wesley, but she could still pull up some pictures. His profile was of two little girls. Thanks to the stupid privacy settings, the rest was blocked. Probably because of people like her, potentially flicking their bean to his FB photo album.
"Well, I guess it'll be a surprise then. Or you could just read him the questions over the phone."
Willa and Tess held silent and then both said, "Nah."
"I know he doesn't even know who I am. I was a sophomore when he ruled the school. I was painfully shy, and chubby with braces. Plus my hair was a PSA for curly hair gone rogue...no way he knew I existed."
"It wasn't a huge school, surely you spoke to him?"
Tess thought about it. There was that one time in the hall. Someone had crashed into her, causing her books and papers to fall to the ground. He'd smiled and asked if she was okay with a small chuckle. He helped her collect her things. "Try keeping your eyes open next time," he joked, to which she answered "Nnahaabrrgbb." He grinned and walked away. Tess stood in the middle of the hallway well after the bell signaling the start of the next period rang. She kept mumbling "He touched my shoulder." She cringed at the pathetic nature of her memory.
"No. Never talked to him." It was mostly true.
"So, don't be nervous. He doesn't know you had a crush on him. Just go in there and be your normal fabulous self. By the looks of it, he's probably married anyway. And that was like twenty years ago. I'm sure he isn't as as good looking. And you, my friend, have only gotten hotter. Go make him regret not knowing you were alive."
"Uh, thanks?"
"Don't mention it...wanna grab a drink after work?"
Tess scoffed. "Wills, it's Tuesday...of course I want a drink."
"Cool. See you later...Oh and Tess, who we were in high school...it doesn't have anything to do with the women we are today. Okay?"
"I know," Tess said with a wink.
Tess sighed and brought her article back onto the screen. Logically she knew she wasn't that girl anymore. But, sometimes, she felt that girl peek from behind the curtain. And when she was feeling particularly sorry for herself, those nights where she was chin deep into Ben and Jerry's and a bottle of vodka, she couldn't help but think maybe that girl must still exist—just hidden under good hair and a firmer body. Maybe she hadn't evolved. Why else would she be living alone, in her thirties, no closer to finding someone to share her life with? But on the other hand, if she didn't live alone she couldn't eat all the ice cream in one sitting without guilt. It was a toss up.
CHAPTER EIGHT
On the eve of her interview, Tess decided to get out of the house and grab dinner with Emma, Jen, and Marin. As usual, the conversation started as civilized small talk, then nose dived into anything goes before they'd even finished their first round.
"I swear, if one more fucking person asks me if I'm a lesbian, I'm going to go postal...no offense, Marin."
"None taken, Em...it's not something one should ask, especially when they don't know you."
"It was my Tia Consuela...she's known me my whole freaking life! She said, 'Mija, it's okay if you don't like boys. If Jesus can befriend a whore, then surely he can forgive you...Gracias Adios.' Then she crossed herself and walked away...so, I'm single...that doesn't make me a muff diver. No offense, Marin."
"Actually, that one was a little offensive," Marin said, throwing a chip at Emma's head.
"No one's asked me if I'm gay yet, but I always get the look. When they ask if I have kids, then the follow up is are you married, then do you have a boyfriend? When I've answered no to all of the above then I get the look. 'I'm sorry you have leprosy, but maybe your arm will grow back.' Assholes," Jen bitched.
Sitting around a square wooden table in their favorite Mexican restaurant was Emma DeSantiago, Marin Fleming, and Jen Strauss. Tess's single crew.
"My mom used to always say that if I only lost some weight, I'd be able to find someone willing to marry me. Well, I unloaded fifteen pounds over a decade ago and still single." Tess's weight loss had nothing to do with her mother's insulting theory. No, it was thanks to a two week bout with a bug she caught while vacationing in Thailand. When she was able to unwrap herself from the toilet, she liked how she looked so much that she decided to join a gym and learn how to maintain her new shape. She wasn't a twig, she had curves in the right places, and a few dimples in her ass, but now her stomach was flatter and her arms and legs toned. She looked healthy.
"Tess, what a horrible thing for her to say to you," Marin said, putting a hand on top of hers. Tess squeezed her fingers.
"Horrible, and a load of shit. Your mom's a real bitch...no offense," Emma said, managing to look marginally contrite.
"None taken. She is a bitch, most of the time...Maybe I should try women. Men are a pain in my ass," Tess admitted, licking the salt from the rim of her glass with concentration.
"I hate to disfranchise you sluts, but dating women is no picnic either. In fact I guarantee you, it's harder." Marin their token gay, as they lovingly call her, was what chauvinistic creeps would call a "lipstick" lesbian. Tall, blonde, model good looks. Curves that make grown men cry, especially when they found out there was no chance in hell they would get to touch said curves. "What if the guys you dated borrowed your clothes, whined about not getting enough attention, and hogged the mirror?"
"Then he would be gay," Emma teased, batting her dark doe eyes. She was a petite Latin beauty, with a big personality. Tess had always been envious of her thick ebony hair that curled just about down to her waist.
"I think it's safe to say the dating scene is brutal whether you're gay or straight," Jen added. She had almond shaped eyes, inherited from her Korean mother. Their green shade was from her German dad. She was very exotic looking, almost like a wild cat.
"Jen, you always have a boyfriend," Tess threw out.
"Nuh-uh. I define a boyfriend as someone who lasts more than a month. A boyfriend is someone who buys you presents on Christmas and takes you out to eat for your birthday. I've had a long line of bed buddies."
"They take you to dinner, and buy you presents...I saw the enormous Louie you were sporting courtesy of your last bed buddy," Marin accused, with a wicked grin.
"Yeah, dudes are always buying you stuff. You must have a whiskey flavored punnie," Emma teased. They all laughed. Then Tess moaned...salt hurts when it goes up your nose.
"Whatever, Emma. Like you're one to talk. Guys ask you out all the time, you just never accept," Tess added. "And you, Marin—women throw themselves at you, gay and straight. Your like an Amazonian beacon to vaginas everywhere."
Marin laughed and shook her head. "What about the guy Rebel set you up with, Tess? He sounded nice."
Tess sipped her frozen drink and nodded. "Donovan? Yes, he's very nice. Easy on the eyes, too. We only went out the one time, but we've talked on the phone a few times since. We're supposed to go out this weekend."
"Cool, what are you gonna do?" Emma asked.
"I think he mentioned something about a trail ride." All three friends made various faces of WTF.
"Like on a horse?"
Jen scoffed.
"No, a bike."
"But you don't own a bike. In fact, you face planted getting off the stationary in spin class," Emma pointed out.
Tess ignored Emma's kind of exaggerated, but mostly spot on comment. "I've been thinking about getting one."
"Tess." Marin gave her a look.
"Okay no, I don't own, nor do I want to own a bike. Riding one on a bumpy trail made of dirt makes my labia hurt just thinking about it. He's very outdoorsy. I didn't want to come off like a lazy ass."
"Tess, you work out. Just because you don't enjoy off roading in those weird spandex outfits doesn't make you lazy," Jen said.
"I know, but I don't exercise for fun. Running, biking, for entertainment? No freaking way. I work out so I can eat guac and drink margaritas with you hookers...it's just as well. I'm trying to make a good impression and I'm pretty sure that helmets are not flattering, like not even a little.
"Tell him you're only down with meat helmets, then the only riding will be in your bedroom on top of your tired flowery sex blanket." Emma said, spanking the air.
They all groaned.
"We'll get to the sex blanket thing in a minute...but first, what the hell is a meat helmet?" Marin asked, disgusted.
"Oh, come on! We know you're down with beaver town, but you've seen a dick before," Emma said.
"Yes, smart ass, I've seen several of them—I spent most of my twenties pretending to be bi-curious. I still don't know what a meat helmet is, though."
"It's the fleshy part, or head, on the top of a circumcised penis," Tess described primly. Marin did not look glad to be clued into the whole meat helmet thing, her face squished in revulsion.
"Oooh, I love proper Tess," Jen teased.
"Pinkies up!" Emma, Jen, and Marin said in a snooty accent, doing just that—earning a middle finger from Tess. They loved to give Tess a hard time about her privileged upbringing.
"There is one thing I wanted to run by you guys," Tess offered. "The thing is, Donovan...he's a widower."
"Eh, tough break," Jen said.
"I know, right? It seems like a contest I'll never win." It felt good to finally express her worries about the situation. "It's not that widowers shouldn't move on, or whatever, it's just...it seems to me like he may not be ready."
Spinster? Page 4
