by AC Netzel
“Slip on your dress and find me. I’ll be the guy in the penguin suit.”
Chapter 19
Yesterday was spent tying up loose ends at work. I’m lucky Vivian is as supportive as she is, allowing me to take this unscheduled time off. Feeling a sense of responsibility since it was Wisteria Hill that threw Ben and me together again until we couldn’t stand to be apart, I think she takes particular pride in our union.
Anyway, she’s treated me like more than an employee. She always had my back, encouraging and pushing me to be a better editor while shrewdly giving me sage advice about relationships and love.
Trying not to drop the three bags in my hand, I push the call button for our slow as shit elevator. I have some loose ends at my apartment to tackle as well. After waiting what felt like an eternity, the elevator doors finally open. I step in and press the button for the third floor. After another lifetime passes, the doors finally closed. I know I could save myself time by taking the stairs, but that would require exercise.
That’s not happening.
As the elevator slowly ascends, I take the opportunity to glance around my tiny surroundings. There’s nothing special about it. I usually hate it. It’s small, has this weird smell that I could never put my finger on, and it’s painfully slow. Still, I feel a twinge of melancholy. I’m going to miss this building and the crappy elevator. Leaving this place is surprisingly bittersweet.
Here was the first place I lived without my family. My first taste of adulthood. It’s where I began living my dream in the greatest city in the world. Some people say they feel small in such a big place—not me. I never felt so big. It’s the people in the city that make the city, and I was part of it. Living in New York was everything I hoped it would be. Everything about it excited me. I’d get a thrill just getting the last seat on a subway train. New York is the place I met my soulmate. I suppose New York romanced me just as he did.
The front door is where he first kissed me. And it was a spectacular kiss. I place my hand on the wall behind me. So many times Ben had my back pressed against this wall when he kissed me, a preamble of better things to come.
The elevator stops, the doors slide open, and I step into the hallway. Memories of move-in day flood my mind. My mother was sobbing as she carried in what looked like a year’s supply of pre-cooked meals in a massive cooler and my poor father dragged a hand truck piled high with boxes of my stuff. Allie was waiting inside, with a tiny sombrero on her head and a margarita in her hand.
My parents didn’t get the best first impression of my new roommate. Fortunately, they already knew Allie, understood her crazy and loved her for it anyway.
Unlocking the door, I walk into the apartment. It’s a mess. I wish I could say it’s because we’re moving out, but it always looks like this. Bundles of my old gossip magazines are wrapped in twine, piled high on the floor. Large plastic garbage bags packed with blankets, sheets, towels and anything else we could fit are lined up against the wall. Neither of us is brave enough to tackle the refrigerator. God only knows how old some of those take-out containers are.
I place two small bags on the coffee table where Ben and I shared our first home cooked dinner together. I take the third bag straight to my room. Time to get to work.
Opening my bedroom door, I spot my reflection in the mirror over my dresser staring back at me. We had a lot of sex in front of that mirror. I learned I liked to watch us. And Ben gave me plenty of opportunities to watch. I stare down at my clothes scattered on the floor and laugh to myself. I’m a slob. I glance at my bed. Here’s where Ben made his indecent proposal and introduced me to casual sex— which ended up being not-so-casual after all.
There are so many good times and some a little sad. This apartment has been my safe haven since moving to New York. In some ways, it feels like I’m abandoning something I love, like an old friend.
After pushing my bed over, I remove a container from the bag and get to work.
“Are you here yet?” Allie yells across the apartment.
“In my room,” I shout back.
A few seconds later, she stands in my doorway. “What the hell are you doing?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest and frowns.
“Getting the apartment ready for the next tenant.”
“By?”
“Filling in the sex gash on my wall. My headboard crashed into this spot when we fooled around. I’m fixing the huge hole it made.” I hold up a taping knife full of spackle.
She laughs. “I hope you bought an industrial size container. My room has holes from floor to ceiling.”
“I don’t know how you got them on your ceiling,” I say as Allie opens her mouth. I hold my hand up. “Please don’t elaborate.”
“Sex swing,” she tells me anyway. “Good times. You should get one.”
“Why don’t you get changed so your work clothes don’t get dirty?” I ask, ignoring her TMI. “I ordered a pizza. It should be here in about thirty minutes. That’ll give us enough time to do both rooms.”
“Yay, surprise pizza! Thank God. I’m sick of all this pre-wedding diet food. It tastes like carrot sticks and lies.”
“We could always work off the pizza by doing some squats while we eat it,” I joke.
“The only way I’m doing squats is if you throw chocolate on the floor.”
I chuckle and toss a taping knife her way. “Get changed then get to work.”
~o0o~
Thirty minutes later, we finish spackling. Not professional work by any stretch of imagination, but it’ll do. Naturally, Allie overshared the stories behind every hole, gash, and tear in the sheetrock. I am now blessed with the knowledge that Vince made a custom ‘lifelike’ dildo of his own appendage for when he’s out of town.
Bonus: it’s wall mountable.
She wanted to show it to me.
I declined.
Once our pizza arrives, we move into the living room and sit on the floor on either side of the coffee table.
“Here.” Allie hands me a multicolored mini sombrero. “Wear this.”
“Why?”
“This is your real bachelorette party. Just you, me, and my trusty friend,” she dips her hand into a large canvas bag on the floor next to her, “Señor Patron.” She holds up a bottle of tequila.
“We can’t drink tonight. There’s too much to do. I can’t risk waking up with a headache.”
“Jules, it’s practically our last night as roommates. At the very least, we need to toast it. Now, put on your sombrero like a good little muchacha and have a drink with your best friend. I bought margarita mix too. It’ll dilute the booze.” She pulls out a bottle of pre-made margarita mix and places it on the table.
“Promise you won’t make it too strong?”
“Cross my heart.” She draws an imaginary ‘X’ with her index finger across her chest.
I place the mini sombrero on my head, adjusting the elastic string that holds it in place under my chin.
“Muy bien. A sombrero, no matter how small, makes any day special.” She pulls two plastic margarita glasses from her bag of tricks and places them on the table.
“No ice?” I ask.
“No. It’ll dilute the booze more,” she says as she mixes our drinks. “Anyway, the mix is still cold. Here.” She hands me a margarita glass.
I lift my glass and smile. “To former roommates and forever best friends.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She clinks her glass to mine and tosses back a large gulp.
“Whoa, you’re going to down that drink in two sips with those huge swigs you’re taking,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, mother.” She laughs and takes another mouthful.
“Brat.” I laugh, taking a sip.
She wiggles her brows, grabbing a slice of pizza, and takes a big bite. “I like things big. You’d know that if you saw my Vince dildo.”
“Still going to pass on that.”
“Your loss.”
I need to
steer this in a different direction before the Vince-do makes an unannounced appearance.
“So, the new tenants go to NYU?” I ask.
“Yeah, two girls in the graduate program. Biology or Chemistry, some science. I forget which.”
“It’s going to be strange having someone else live here.”
She looks around the room and sighs. “Yeah.”
“We’re going to stalk them, right?”
“Absolutely.” She nods and takes another bite. “My grandmother owns this apartment. I’m practically the landlord.”
I laugh. “So, you’re sure about this move? I mean, moving in with Vince is a big step.”
“It’s not like I’m doing something ridiculous, like marrying the guy.” Smirking, she lifts a brow. “Besides, I practically live there already.”
“I’m glad you found him. He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, he’s also a kinky son-of-a-bitch. But, my kinky is quite fond of his.” She knocks back the last drop of her cocktail and grabs the tequila bottle.
I laugh. “Another already?”
She nods, pouring tequila in my glass first.
“Hey! I wasn’t done.”
“I was refreshing it.”
“I agreed to just one drink.”
“That is just one drink.”
“Okay. No more. I didn’t eat much today. I’m already getting a little buzzed.” I take a bite of my pizza. Hopefully, that’ll offset it.
Three bottomless ‘refreshers’ later, I’m feeling no pain. Allie’s eyes are glassy and she’s wearing her mini sombrero as a clown nose while peeling the cheese off the remaining slices of pizza and devouring it.
“We’re going to be awesome old ladies, aren’t we?” she asks. “You’ll have ten kids with Ben. Your boobs will be sagging to the floor. I’ll be on my tenth husband with no kids and perfect tits. Just so you know, if I were gay I’d totally go for you. Maybe make you marriage number eleven.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re not going to try to make out with me now, are you?”
“Alas, my love for the peen is too powerful. You’ll have to settle for my friendship.” She grabs the tequila bottle and takes a quick swig.
“Whoa. You’re going to have a massive headache tomorrow if you keep that up.”
She dips her hand into her canvas bag and pulls out a quart sized bottle of a Sports drink. “Ta-da. My electric lice will be fine,” she laughs.
“Electrolytes.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Your brain may have said that, but your mouth said something completely different.”
She shrugs.
“So, you ready to live with a boy full time?” I tease.
“Yeah. Are you?”
I nod. “I’m marrying my hot fuck buddy.”
“How do you feel about that?” she asks.
“Lucky. Really lucky.”
“Once upon a time, my best friend Jules fell in love with a good man. A man so good he could fuck her until she screamed. And they lived fuckily ever after.”
“I’ll drink to that” I hold up my glass, Allie pours more tequila, and I down it. “You ever wonder why you didn’t take a chance on anyone before Vince?”
“I like variety.”
“The real reason.”
She takes another quick mouthful and sighs. “Truth?” she asks.
I nod.
“I guess I didn’t want anyone to get tired of me. I’m pretty exhausting.”
“What made him different?”
“Well, he screws like a damn sex machine. Sooo dirty. Then other times, it’s pretty. You know?”
“Yeah, I do.” I smile. “There’s flowery sex. Then there’s sex with your stilettos still on and your legs pinned behind your head. If you find the guy who delivers both, you hold on tight.”
“Amen, sister.” She nods in agreement.
“Seriously, why him?”
She tilts her head and looks at me thoughtfully. “He was worth it. The maybe he’ll hurt me, maybe he won’t.”
“He won’t, you know. Hurt you. He’s crazy in love with you. I know Ben could crush my soul, but I still give him all of me, because in my heart I know he won’t. Vince is like that.”
“Honestly, I think Vince is loonier than me. Like me, he colors outside the lines. I like that. We clicked perfectly and then…”
I snap my fingers. “It happened,” I say, completing her thought.
She smiles and nods. “It happened.”
“I’m glad it happened for you. You deserve it.”
“Unfortunately, I had to sift through a few losers along the way.”
“Tell me about it.” I point to my chest. “Mikehole. The Supreme leader of losers. Not only was he a cheater and liar, but the longest sex we ever had lasted under fifteen minutes. No shit.”
“Fasthole.” She shakes her head. “Believe me. I’ve had my share too. I’ve had periods that lasted longer than most of my relationships. Remember that guy who took me to Lake Placid for the weekend three summers ago. The idiot drank too much and couldn’t get it up. I spent the first night masturbating to porn on my cell phone next to a passed out Lake Flaccid.”
She takes another swig of tequila then continues. “The second day, once he was able to perform...” She holds up her thumb and index finger about an inch distance apart. “Pequeño penis. And he fingered me like he was looking for his lost keys.”
Shivering in disgust, she continues. “Don’t get me started on his ‘dirty talk’,” she says air quoting the last two words. “He told me I had a ‘delicious vagina’. Those were his exact words. ‘Delicious Vagina’. Who says that? What am I? A steak dinner or something? Excuse me, waiter, I’ll have a garden salad with ranch dressing and an order of that delicious vagina, please.”
She rolls on the floor in drunken hysterics then looks at me. “I never liked that guy much anyway. He had serial killer eyes.”
“Oh my God, I remember him. If it makes you feel any better, I saw him walking up Sixth Avenue not too long ago. Fate handed him your revenge. He had a stupid haircut.”
She laughs again as she sits back up. “Moron. That guy made me as dry as the desert. He did nothing for me.” She sighs. “I’ve had flings with all sorts of losers. My vagina has made some awful decisions. Who could forget Ethan?”
“Oh yeah, our high school’s biggest manwhore. What a jerk.”
“That jerk charmed the hymen right off my virginity. Then promptly dumped me.”
“You’ve moved onto better things.”
“True. Sex with Vince is the best I ever had. Mindblowing. It’s like I’m having the longest, dirtiest one night stand in the history of one night stands. Where’s that place where the night lasts for weeks at a time?”
“I don’t know. Finland, maybe?”
“Yes. It’s like I’m fucking in Finland.”
I cock my head, wrapping an arm around the stitch in my side from laughing so much.
“Finnish fucking is awesome!” She howls out a belly laugh, falling on her side again.
“Can I ask you something without you getting mad at me?”
“Sure,” she says, lying flat on the floor.
“It’s about Camille.”
She rolls her eyes and rolls to her side. “Sure, bring down my buzz. What about the Ice Queen?”
“Why can’t she just accept us and move on? Like showing up at my bridal shower, practically dressed like a bride, and shooting me dirty looks?”
“Because raining on your parade makes her hurt less. She builds herself up by trying to tear you down. And she never gets satisfaction because he’s so into you, so she keeps at it.”
“I’ve tried to be civil.”
“She’s not interested in your civility. All she wants is your man.”
“He’s mine.”
“She knows. And it’s killing her. She was just a placeholder, like anyone else before you. Then Ben met you and that was it for him.”
/>
“I wish she wasn’t his sister’s best friend. There’s no escaping her.”
“If she wants to torture herself, let her. She’s not your problem. She’s her own.”
“You’re right.”
“Of course I am.” She taps her temple with her index finger. “I’m very smart. And my vagina is delicious.”
I laugh. “You are, and I’ve heard.”
“And I think I’m very drunk.”
“You’re that too.”
“Maybe we should set her up with Pierce. He’s probably still holding a torch for you.”
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t do that to him. He’s too decent of a guy.”
“He is. He deserves someone who’s a little fun. That girl is as much fun as pulling out a dry tampon.”
“I think you’ve picked the perfect analogy.”
“Oh, wait, I have a text.” She pulls her cell phone out of her bra strap, swipes the screen and grins.
“Vince?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she answers while texting something back.
“Sending you sweet nothings?” I tease.
“Nope. Dick pic,” she says matter-of-factly. “He’s got a beautiful dick.”
“Does he share his pictures with others?”
“Not if he wants to keep it attached to his body.”
“You were about to show me your Vince-do.”
“Latex Vince and Real Vince are different. I keep real Vince for myself.”
“Nice to know you have a line.”
She tucks her phone back into her bra. “God help that man if he crosses it. Chop, chop.” She fakes a karate chop then downs another mouthful of booze.
“Do you think about your future with Vince… and his beautiful dick?”
“Not really. I’m more of an in-the-present girl. Future starts with ‘FU’. Why would I think about something that’s already trying to fuck me over? I’d rather be surprised.” She winces. “Oh God, I have to pee. Can you bring the toilet over here?”
“Sorry, don’t think I can.”
“How many steps you figure it is?”
“Twenty?”
“I’m only good for ten.”
“You better start crawling. I’m not cleaning up after you.”
She stands, placing her hand on the wall to steady herself, and walks to the bathroom with the tequila bottle in hand.
