No. Just no. That shift in her paradigm would be too unnerving. So, she surprised herself when she said, "It sounds amazing, Mom. I'd like to help, if you need an extra hand."
"That would be wonderful, Tess." A smile exploded across her mother's smooth skin and it was startling. Tess smiled in return as Greta cleared the soup. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that her father was giving her a look of unbridled approval that brought a tear to her eye. And like that, she wasn't the thirty-three year old woman impervious to her parents approval. She was the seven year old girl, swinging her legs underneath a silken table cloth, absorbing every ounce like a dry sponge does water.
She sat at her parents' dining room table, and she was smiling, not with derision, but happiness. And they were smiling in kind. Hell hath frozen over. Maybe it would last more than a moment.
As if remembering that showing excitement causes wrinkles, her mother's smile melted. "I hope you can drum up a suitable escort, Tess."
Maybe, not.
"Oh, mother, you know me. I have a bevy of available men at my disposal."
"The word I used was suitable, not available. There is a difference."
"I'll make sure their tattoos are covered," Tess snarked, knowing she would go alone, but baited her mom nonetheless.
The savory aroma of the roast on her plate wafted into her olfactories. Tess was going to eat every bite, including the mashed potatoes. Then have seconds, followed by a very large custard tart.
Annoying her mom by calorie consumption was her favorite. Old habits die hard.
Later, she swiveled, contemplating the night's events, on a hard wooden stool. Not every second had been excruciating, that was unusual. It had ended like it usually did, with a barely touching cheek kiss from her mother and a hearty hug from her father. Had she really offered to help her mom party plan? She would have to get very creative to get out of this one. And to top it off she was single...again, which her mom pointed out a half a dozen times. Not that she and Donovan had been serious, but he had been a viable candidate. And despite his dinner invitation, she never heard from Wesley, or Wes...whatever. The newsletters had been finished, published and distributed. He was probably crowned king of the reunion, if he graced them with his attendance. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Part of her was offended, a tad bitter. But part was relieved. Sometimes it was better not have to worry about entanglements with the opposite sex.
So, here she sat, bellied up to the bar of her favorite watering hole—three Crown and diet Cokes in—spurring free drinks and suggestive smiles. No gracias, dudes. This vagina was closed for business tonight. She felt mildly sorry for herself, despite her full life. She didn't need or want a man, right? She had a job she loved and amazing friends. Men just complicated her life, made her feel things. It's better to go it solo. It was just easi...
"Anyone sitting here?" a deep voice asked.
Tess tilted her chin, just enough. Long fingers. Tattooed arm, trimmed beard on the chin, sparkling eyes. Aaaand...lady boner. Okay, maybe she could make an exception. Just for one night.
Tess woke in a knot of sheets. Her cranial fog was a reminder that she had over indulged with her hipster hunk. She sat up with a groan, palming her forehead. "Uuhrrrggh." Flashes from the night before assailed her. Some were naked. "Oh, god!" Remembering the make out session in his Prius, after many rounds of dry humping on the makeshift dance floor. What was his name?
"Bobby? Brent? No, Trent! I knew I remembered." She shuddered again—the vise grip on her frontal lobe was in full effect. He'd come into her apartment, and she was pretty sure they did it. That had her rolling out of bed, cursing as she hit the floor on all fours forgetting the origami thing she had going with her Egyptian cotton. She unravelled and threw on a t-shirt. Was he still here? And this is why she stopped random hammered hook ups years ago. Once you wake up in a frat house without your top on, you make some changes...especially when you're almost old enough to be the slightly post pubescent guy's mom if you'd gotten knocked up in high school. There was a twinge of something foreign in her chest. Was that guilt? Nah, couldn't be. She never felt guilty. Perhaps it was reflux, or her Crown and Cokes attempting to make an encore appearance. Speaking of the demon that was whisky, she couldn't remember if she'd kicked him out the night before, damn it. Surely she did. She always did.
She went out to an empty apartment and sighed.
"Yes."
And then...the toilet flushed.
"Ah, man."
Her discomposure fell away, a mischievous smirk taking it's place as she wondered if she could beat her get to steppin' record of ten minutes. She noted the time on the microwave.
"And go."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"So, let me get this straight. He was good looking."
"Yes."
"And nice."
"From what I can remember."
"And you slept with him."
"All signs point to the affirmative."
"But you're not going to call him or answer when he calls. Do I have it right?"
"That about covers it," Tess agreed. She'd been filling Rebel in on the previous night as they ate pho at their favorite noodle shack. She knew Rebel was trying to be supportive, but Tess could tell by the look on her friend's face that she wanted to slap some sense into her.
"Look, Rebel, I know it sounds crazy. I know you're thinking why not give this guy a chance. But I just can't start from square one after he's put his mouth on my beave, ya know?"
"He put his mouth on your beave?" Rebel asked louder than Tess would have liked.
"Probably...anyway, how would that first date go? 'I know you've already seen me naked, but tell me about yourself.' Just, no. That's why I have the three date rule. I don't have to know a guy's life story before we sleep together, but I sure as hell need to know if he lives in his parents basement."
"He does?" Rebel blurted.
"How the hell should I know? That's my point. I can't try to get to know a guy if I've already done the deed. It's just weird. Not to mention the fact that I don't remember much of said deed."
"Well, there you go. It's like you didn't even sleep together then," Rebel said, pulling a mound of noodles from a large bowl of steaming broth with chopsticks. "First, don't get so hammered without one of us there to chaperone your trampy ass. And second, I think you have too many rules and preconceived notions about how things are supposed to go. Go with what feels right."
"In that case, it feels right to never see maybe Trent again. Okay." Tess leveled her friend with a look that let her know her decision had been made. One thing about Tess was, once her mind was made up about someone, good luck changing it. It was next to impossible. It took a lot to get on her black balled list, but once there, that person stayed there. "I know I shouldn't have drank so much. If I hadn't, I might have had a nice conversation with him and maybe have scheduled a date. But that didn't happen and I can't change it, and I refuse to feel guilty about it." She had felt something the day after—not guilt, but something—then decided she had to let it go. Refusing not to cry over spilled fluids...or milk, whatever.
"I hope you used protection, missy."
"Yes, Mom." She'd freaked out about that until she saw the empty condom wrapper under her bed. She was on the pill, but pregnancy wasn't the only repercussion of irresponsible behavior.
Nope, never again.
Rebel set her chopsticks down on the table and put her hand under her chin. "What happened?"
Tess gave her a look. "I just told you."
"No, I mean what happened to make your inner lush take over your normally rational brain."
"Sunday dinner."
Rebel nodded. "Got it."
"Speaking of my parental units, I'm officially inviting you to my dad's retirement party."
"Tess, I'm sure Cameron and I will be invited. Your mom loves me. In fact, the whole gang will want to come. We can all caravan."
"Maybe we could get a limo and relive pr
om night," Tess teased.
"Great, then I can drink four wine cooler and throw up on my date's shoes."
Tess laughed. "That is awesome. Wine cooler puke is way better than losing your virginity in 80's B movie style."
"No!"
"Oh, yes."
Flashback to Tess in a strapless minidress with a beaded bodice and taffeta skirt. For some reason all of the dresses that year were hooker-chic. Her mother paid five hundred dollars for that small piece of royal blue fabric. Regardless, Tess had felt beautiful, even when her boyfriend tied the white orchid corsage on her wrist and said, "You look sweet, Chubbles." That night had been the last straw in her growing pile of over-it—Damon O'Donnell was on his way out and the dumb lug didn't even know it. So, why did she sleep with him? Well, she had no intention of going to college with her hymen intact. So, instead of losing her virginity to some random drunken frat boy, she chose the lesser evil—her drunken douche canoe of a boyfriend. She'd heard her first time would't be that great, so who better to have so so sex with? And to say it was so so would be an insult to mediocre sex. It lasted less than a minute, with her hose around her ankles. She'd been trying to push them off using her feet when he'd shuddered, oh, oh oh...and done. She'd like to say that event was not the first in a long line of unsatisfactory couplings...but she wasn't a liar.
"That's the worst, Tess," Rebel said, pulling Tess back into the present.
"Eh, what can you do? Your first time is a band-aid of sorts. Once I gave it up, I felt free to give it up as much as I wanted. That was one sweaty summer," Tess said with a wink.
"You're a total slut," Rebel teased as she pushed her bowl away. "Ugh, I can't eat another noodle."
"Can I say, that although I don't feel guilty about my foggy fornication, I don't necessarily feel proud either. I'm tired of it all."
"Don't give up. He's out there."
"That's the thing—I don't even care. If he is, awesome, if not, oh freaking well."
"You say that, but I know you. You're a romantic at heart. Plus, in this day and age there are no time limits. My cousin got married for the first time and she was almost fifty."
"I know. I guess my point is, I'm not looking for it anymore. If it happens, it happens." Tess signed the tab and slid her debit card back into her wallet. "Ready, Reb?"
"Yup. Let me run to the ladies' and I'll meet you out front." Rebel took two steps and turned around. "Are you sure Donovan wasn't the one?"
"If you have to ask then..."
Rebel shrugged. "I just thought maybe later." Then she walked to the back of the restaurant. Rebel had had high hopes, since she set them up in the first place. That would go down as the one set up Tess didn't hold in contempt. She really liked Donovan, time well spent. But if there was a "one," which she now doubted, he wasn't it. In her mind it would hit her like the burning bush. An inferno burning her from the inside out. The knowledge that you were supposed to be with that person would cement in her heart and mind.
Okay, maybe she was a romantic after all.
"Tess, get your ass in here," her boss yelled. Her eyes rolled even as her mouth tilted into a small grin. She would never wish it on anyone, but Gabe Parks needed to switch to decaf.
"You rang, your crabbiness?" Tess teased, holding the frame of his door.
"Have a seat, Warner."
"O-kay. This sounds serious."
"I just got a call..."
"From the mothership?"
"Ha ha, smart ass. No, the Morning News has compiled their best lists and our little mag is on it." He grinned from ear to ear. When he did that, it shaved six months off of his face.
"Wow, great news, but we've made it before. Why all the yelling?"
"Well, my sarcastic protégé, this year you were mentioned in our nomination piece."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. They referenced the Grand Plaza restoration piece you did in May."
Tess had never been singled out in any major publication, so this was a feather in her cap. "That's really exciting. Do I get some kind of bonus?" Gabe gave her a look. "Can't blame a girl for trying...Thanks for the heads up, el jefe. I'll just get back to playing Candy Crush on my computer. " She smiled and walked out the door.
Her steps stopped when his voice rang, "Oh, one more thing, Ms.Warner."
She turned and stuck her head back in. "Yes?"
"You deserve it, kid." Kid might have been condescending coming from anyone else, but for Gabe, anyone under the age of forty was kid. And compliments from him? Well, she'd store that in her memory bank for a cold rainy day in hell, because that might be the next time she heard one.
"Thanks, Gramps."
She had pep in her step all the way until she reached her desk, then crashed into the cushion, causing her chair to roll a foot away from her desk. She tiptoed her way back and picked up her phone.
"Hey, babe. I'm in the mood to shop. Wanna join?"
"What happened? Did your mom move to Europe?" Willa asked.
"Ha, no, but that would put me in the shopping mood, too. Meet me in the front and I'll tell you."
"Give me a second to finish this email and shut down."
"Okay."
Tess needed to buy a dress for her father's retirement party, anyway. Her celebratory mood would guarantee that she would spend entirely too much on a dress, but it would be fabulous.
Two hours later, the fitting room looked like closing time on Black Friday. A dome made of fabric towered from the dense carpet at her feet.
"Tess, nothing?" Willa asked. Her voice was starting to strain, Tess's indecision was cracking even her patient countenance. Tess huffed, pushing sweaty tendrils from her face. What the hell voltage were these lights? She felt like a rotisserie chicken under a heat lamp. It must be the effort of pulling on the countless dresses—like stuffing a sausage.
"Okay, I've narrowed it down to three...I think. Damn, why am I being so picky?"
Willa stuck her small face past the curtain. "Sweetie, it's your daddy's retirement party. Of course, you want to look pretty. Plus, you could walk around blindfolded and still run into two dozen horny young Republicans."
"Yuck. Liberal media, remember," Tess sassed.
"Yes, your article on Botox addiction among the privileged was very left wing," Willa teased.
Tess flipped her off lovingly. "I just want to look good in something my mother didn't have her personal shopper drop off at my apartment." Tess held up a hanger. "So, I'm thinking the black short, the Marc Jacobs print, or the red." She held up the other two dresses. The black one had a criss cross beaded neck line. It was short, but flowed in the skirt. The blue and green print was a strapless gown with an empire waist and long draped hem.
"The red, definitely the red," Willa said.
Tess smiled, pushing her out so she could try it on one last time. The bodice was blood red, as was the ankle length skirt. Soft low neck line, with two narrow strips of fabric made the sleeves, hugging the outside of her shoulder. Plunging v back, just below were her bra strap would be. This worried her because she had some girls, so a bra was non-negotiable.
"It is beautiful, but I'll have to have spandex on every inch of my body that isn't exposed."
"That's okay."
"I need to find one of those weird bras, the cross in the front and clasp in the lower back type. It's going to be a physics project under here."
"Buy it."
"What if..."
"Get it."
"Get it?"
"Get it."
Tess made an excited scrunchy face. "You're right. It is my dad's favorite color."
She second guessed her choice all the way to the check out. "That will be $750.84...will this be on you Neiman's?" Tess sucked in a breath. Mom's personal shopper was sounding pretty good about now. She could pay it off in a few installments, and it was a special occasion. With that thought, she slid her card to the pinched face sales woman. "This one was on sale. What a steal, right?" the bleached blonde sales
girl said.
"Mmhmm, totally." Yes, almost eight hundred dollars...what a steal.
She better look freaking stellar in this thing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tess twirled in front of her three way mirror, which she used only in the most dire of situations. She had a rule to never spend more than three seconds upright near a reflective surface. The thin layer of constrictive undergarments she had on made her reflection very appealing. She bent her knee and looked over her shoulder, revealing the red sole of her sky high heel. Shoe free, Tess was a smidge above average height, but she had to be just under six foot in these babies. She was hoping she looked more runway model than Xena warrior princess.
Tess wanted to try something different, so she'd had copper highlights done. She loved the way it shimmered and decided to wear her hair down in long waves. Tess decided she had enough red, and kept her lips a glossy shade of nude. She smiled at her reflection, then giggled softly—the dress may have been worth every penny.
Her phone buzzed, a text from Rebel letting her know she and Cameron were there to pick her up. The rest of her friends were going to meet them at the gardens, near whichever open bar they found first.
"Wow, Tess, you look really nice," Cameron complimented, as he opened her door. Such the gentleman.
"Nice? Try fantastic!" Rebel added.
Tess's cheeks warmed. "Thanks, you guys. You two don't look so shabby yourselves." Slight understatement. Cameron had on a tan suit with a pale blue tie, matching his eyes and the spaghetti strap number Rebel was wearing. The blue looked amazing against her olive skin and raven curls.
"Donovan said he was sorry he couldn't make it." Cameron mentioned. "He has to close the store tonight. The person who was scheduled caught a bug."
"Oh, darn...I was hoping he could come." Tess meant that. She considered him a friend, plus he said he would pretend to be her date to keep her mom off of her back. She hoped being surrounded by friends would be enough, or maybe her dear mother would be too busy playing hostess and doting on Tess's dad to bother. Here's hoping.
Spinster? Page 9
