Party of Three

by Sandy Lowe

  Could she have rebound sex?

  Tonight?

  She ignored the way her heart thumped a few extra beats and her libido perked up. She wouldn’t have sex with just anyone, and definitely not someone she didn’t know really well. Taking another sip of her cosmo, she settled on maybe. If she found just the right not-a-stranger, then maybe. If it didn’t happen, if no one at this fancy-pants social interrogation masquerading as a birthday party was interested in her, if she couldn’t pull it off, well, then, she wouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, would she?

  Chapter Two

  The Problem with Paws

  “Hey, there’s Peter,” Kaitlyn said.

  Sarah turned toward the entrance and watched Peter Kingsley, Eleanor McGregor’s longtime boyfriend, walk through the door, his arm around the shoulders of a blond woman so tiny she looked like an elf.

  “What’s he doing here?” Avery asked.

  Peter sidled up to the bar and smiled charmingly at Hot Bartender. Hot Bartender didn’t smile back; in fact, she looked downright pissed as she served them.

  “Not exactly Peter’s kind of place,” Sarah said. Peter’s silver spoon was so far up his ass he couldn’t sit comfortably. His family money was so old that no one remembered quite where it had come from.

  “Maybe it’s his cousin or…” Kaitlyn winced when Peter tucked a strand of hair behind Blond Elf’s ear and whispered something that made her giggle. “Or maybe not.”

  “His hand is way too low on her back.” Avery studied them critically, her voice tense.

  “Could be a college friend,” Sarah suggested.

  “Or maybe he’s seducing the housekeeper. I heard they’d hired a girl younger than us,” Kaitlyn said.

  “Nah, the housekeeper’s got to be there for Kingsley senior. It’s just more civilized to keep that kind of thing behind closed doors and away from the wife’s sewing circle of socialites,” Sarah said. “Can’t say I like Peter, but he’s rich and good-looking enough not to need to shit where he lies.”

  Kaitlyn groaned. “Really, Sarah? You have such a way with words.”

  “You know what I mean.” Sarah threw her napkin at her.

  “Whoever it is, he’s seducing someone. Not that she looks as if she needs much persuading.” Avery tipped back in her chair, scowling at them. “Elle deserves better.”

  Elle, Sarah mouthed to Kaitlyn and rolled her eyes. She was just about to start mocking the stupid nickname when the show at the far end of the bar started and they all fell silent to watch, as if the lights had just dimmed in a theater.

  The girl was perched on a stool with Peter standing so close beside her it looked as if they were joined at the hip. He was rubbing her back in long, languid movements, catching his fingers on the hem of her tank top with every circuit, inching it up to reveal a tramp stamp, though Sarah couldn’t quite tell what it was. A butterfly? A dragon? A flying space monkey? Peter wasn’t even looking at her, still preoccupied trying to charm Hot Bartender, though he was up against a wall of ice there. Just what had he done to annoy pretty and nice? When his fingers dipped under the waistband of the blonde’s denim miniskirt, they watched her lips part in a gasp, saw her tremble, as if no one, ever, in her whole life, had done anything as scandalous before, and would he please bend her over the bar and take her virginity before she burst?

  Hot Bartender said something in a tone that resonated disgust and pointed to the restroom sign. Peter smiled, clearly not tuning in to her burn-in-hell vibe, paying in cash and leaving what looked to be an overly generous tip, before he grabbed the blonde by the hand and they headed toward the restroom.

  “They’re not going to…” Kaitlyn trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish the thought.

  Avery drained the last third of her cosmo in one long pull. “I take back everything I said about crazy hot bathroom sex.”

  “Seriously. This ruins any kind of sex forever.” Sarah heard the words come out of her mouth and knew they weren’t true. What was about to happen looked to be ten kinds of fucked up, but she wasn’t exactly what you’d call normal. Melinda had planted her flag squarely in the wild terrain of Sarah’s psyche, so sex would never be the same again. The saddest part was that it hadn’t been all that good to begin with.

  Peter and the elf started kissing even before they got to the dim, stubby hallway with doors on either side.

  “Oh, eew,” Kaitlyn said.

  That summed it up perfectly.

  Peter was kissing the girl like she was a strip steak and he was trying to eat her face. He was all teeth, his jaw crunching. What he was hoping to achieve exactly, it was hard to tell. The elf moaned, and Peter hoisted her up with hands on her ass so she could wrap her legs around his waist. They fell against the wall of the hallway, not even bothering to go inside the restroom.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Avery was halfway out of her chair, her face red, her eyes flashing like shards of broken glass.

  Sarah grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back down. “Don’t even think about it. It’s none of our business.”

  “Like hell it isn’t.”

  “Avery, you can’t go charging over there like Joan of fucking Arc. That’s not the way to handle it,” Sarah said.

  “Seems like a good idea to me.” Avery picked up Sarah’s glass and drained her cosmo too. She hated that Avery cared. Did it really matter who Peter fucked? Of course it mattered, there was Elle to consider, wasn’t there? Avery was going to be tied to that annoying bitch forever because of something she couldn’t help feeling.

  When Peter opened his zipper and shoved the denim mini up the girl’s twig-like thighs, they all angled their chairs away from the hallway in silent agreement. A scattering of patrons were staring openly, but most either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the scene. Hot Bartender had her back to them, cleaning glasses. Why didn’t she do something? Give them a talking to, or kick them out, or call the police. Anything.

  They sat quietly for a while, none of them quite sure what to do next. What on earth did you say to follow that?

  “Well…” Kaitlyn finally managed, a blush creeping up her neck, “have you been to Bloomingdale’s spring sale yet?”

  * * *

  Sarah shot Kaitlyn a look that told her to get Avery outside as fast as possible, and she went to settle the tab. They had an unspoken agreement that Sarah paid when the bill was small. She couldn’t treat her friends to Michelin star restaurants or front row seats at this season’s must-see show on Broadway. Blowing a month’s rent on Hamilton tickets wasn’t an option. But paying for the things she could afford made her feel like she wasn’t a total moocher.

  She handed her credit card to Hot Bartender and tilted her head toward the restroom, not turning to see if they’d finished. She’d already caught enough to want to scrub the inside of her eyelids with bleach. “What’s up with that?”

  Hot Bartender shot a nasty look in the direction of the hallway. “Oh, Paws and his twelve-year-old companion have finally decided to copulate without need for an audience. Nice.”

  Sarah shot a glance over her shoulder. The hallway was empty, though the door to the women’s room was still swinging. She turned back to Hot Bartender. “Paws?”

  Hot Bartender shrugged. “No idea what his name is, but haven’t you noticed his huge hands? I swear he tries to cop a feel anytime I walk past with an order. He comes in on Friday afternoons about this time and uses the place like it’s his bedroom. Apparently, he and my boss have an arrangement, and I’m supposed to take his cash and keep my mouth shut.”

  Sarah couldn’t believe it. Peter was using this seedy little bar, a rough in the diamonds of the Upper East Side, to screw a girl behind Eleanor’s back. It was a regular thing. An arrangement. She felt a twinge of something she wasn’t willing to admit was satisfaction. Being satisfied that Eleanor didn’t have a perfect relationship, that she had bad hair days and cellulite and got duped by her boyfriend, would make her petty and mean. She wasn’t. S
he wouldn’t be satisfied. But she couldn’t bring herself to be sorry either. “But why here? It’s hardly an ideal location.”

  Hot Bartender shrugged. “He looks like money to me. He likes fucking her in public. It’s always public. He’s not likely to run into anyone he knows here, is he?”

  “Geez.” Sarah signed the credit card slip and slid it back across the bar. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “It’s like watching a gorilla hump a Teletubby.” Hot Bartender glanced down at the slip of paper. “Sarah Donovan.”

  Sarah smiled. “That’s me.”

  “Jennifer. Nice to meet you. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “So am I,” Sarah said. “I don’t think I’ll be back on Friday afternoons.”

  “Will I see you around some other time? Maybe close to the end of my shift, say around seven?”

  It took Sarah a second to catch on. Oh. “Um, sure. I can drop by after work.”

  Jennifer’s smile brightened. “I’d really like that.”

  “Okay then.” Wow, was she out of practice flirting. Way to go, Sarah. Charm her with your extensive vocabulary.

  “Catch you next week then, maybe.” Jennifer tossed her a wink before moving down the bar to help another customer.

  “Catch you.” It was a sad testament to her life that a perfectly G-rated conversation was the best thing to happen to her in a long time.

  * * *

  Hair and makeup took till after four, and they used the salon’s richly appointed changing room to slip into the cocktail dresses and heels that Kaitlyn had arranged to be messengered over from their respective apartments. Straight-legged black pants and a dove white tuxedo shirt for Avery. Ninety minutes of torture, by Sarah’s estimate, to achieve a look that wasn’t all that different from the tousled waves she saw in the bathroom mirror every morning. She’d have been better off staying home and taking a nap. She enjoyed wearing a nice dress as much as the next girl but didn’t see the point of bringing in professional help. Why walk around as some glammed-up version of who you really were?

  Kaitlyn’s town car waited at the curb outside Expressions.

  “It’s still seventy-two. I can’t believe we spent the whole afternoon inside,” Sarah said.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this all week. I love salon days.” Kaitlyn settled back into the plush leather seat for the trip downtown to Cakewalk.

  “Doesn’t it bother you that you have to spend hours getting ready?” Sarah asked.

  Kaitlyn shook her head. “Not everyone is blessed to be Barbie’s second cousin.”

  “I always thought she could pass as Sienna Miller’s kid sister.” Avery pulled her iPhone out of her pocket and checked her text messages.

  Sarah waved that away. “I could not. Anyway, that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point, oh wise one?”

  “The point,” Sarah ignored Avery’s sarcasm, “is that we only go to all this trouble because that’s what everyone else does. We could save hours, and hundreds of dollars, just by being who we are.”

  Avery smirked. “Good luck taking on the beauty industry, Naomi Wolf.”

  “Some of us go to the trouble just to stand a chance of anyone noticing us next to you,” Kaitlyn said.

  “I…” Sarah started, but didn’t know what to say. She knew she was pretty. It would be stupid to deny it. But so was Kaitlyn with her Irish legacy of lush auburn curls and alabaster skin. Not to mention the fact that she was completely loaded, a trait Sarah didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of competing with.

  “You’re beautiful. You know that.” Except it was pretty clear Kaitlyn didn’t.

  Kaitlyn shrugged good-naturedly. “Uh-huh. That’s why the gorgeous bartender couldn’t take her eyes off me. Oh no, wait. I think that was you.”

  Sarah had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. It’s not like she’d asked for it to happen. She only took charge because Kaitlyn was too busy blushing. “You just need to learn how to talk to girls. We should go out after work next week. I can be your wing-woman. Give you some pointers.”

  “God help you.” Avery poked Kaitlyn in the side.

  Kaitlyn’s face softened. “Thanks. I should, I guess. I don’t know.”

  “I’m a far better wing-woman,” Avery said. “Sarah’s track record is awful.”

  “This is true. But I can steer you away from all the losers and extricate you from an awkward situation in record time,” Sarah said.

  “Girl’s gotta have some skills.”

  She shoved Avery’s shoulder. “Shut up. You never know when you might need to make a hasty retreat.”

  “If you ever want to get laid again, Kaitlyn, don’t listen to her,” Avery said.

  “What are you saying?” Sarah said.

  “That you’re so busy looking for Ms. Perfect Dream Girl you sabotage your chances of having a good time,” Avery said without missing a beat.

  Sarah could literally feel her hackles rising. She didn’t know what hackles were exactly, or where they were located, but hers were standing on end. “So, I should settle?”

  “No, you should relax. Go with it. Stop looking five years into the future, five minutes after meeting someone,” Avery replied.

  “I do not.” Did she? God, Sarah didn’t know anymore.

  Kaitlyn laughed. “She’s got you there.”

  It was so time to change the subject. “Do you think we should tell Eleanor about Peter and the girl at the bar?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  Avery looked like Kaitlyn had just sucker punched her. “Why?”

  “These things are delicate. It’s possible she already knows.”

  “You’re never going to convince me she doesn’t care.” Avery folded her arms. An immovable object.

  “I’m not saying she cares or doesn’t care.” Kaitlyn sighed. “Come on. You weren’t born yesterday. You know how this works. How people from certain families end up together.”

  Sarah frowned. “I don’t get…” Then it hit her. “You’re saying Peter and Eleanor are dating to keep their family money within their class. That marrying someone else would, what, dilute it? Dirty it?” God. Rich people pissed her off. Present company excluded, but still.

  Kaitlyn threw a hand up as if defending herself. “Of course not. But relationships are sometimes…engineered. Or at the very least strongly encouraged between particular families.”

  “To keep money out of the hands of peasants?” Sarah asked.

  “To strengthen social and business ties,” Kaitlyn shot back. “I didn’t invent the system, Sarah.”

  “How very eighteenth-century Britain.”

  “Not to disrupt the class wars or anything, but can we get back to Peter and the skank?” Avery asked.

  “If she does care, it’ll be a whole lot of drama, and you know how Eleanor loves to create drama. Whatever it is, she’s happy to make it fifty times worse,” Sarah said.

  Avery frowned. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

  “Let it go? She made my life a living hell for years,” Sarah said.

  “I’m sorry. Really. But it was seven years ago. It was high school. Can we be over it now?” Avery asked.

  “You weren’t the one on her shit list. She was this close to killing my chance of getting into culinary school. Did we just conveniently forget that little fact?”

  Avery’s shoulders slumped, the fight going out of her. “I know. It’s totally my fault.”

  Sarah didn’t say anything. It wasn’t technically Avery’s fault. She knew that. But fault and responsibility were two sides of the same coin. If Avery hadn’t intervened at the eleventh hour, she might not have graduated valedictorian. She might not have had the grades to get into the best culinary school in the country. She might not have Cakewalk. The thought made her shudder. “I just don’t want history to repeat itself. I’m staying out of the line of fire.”

  “The only way this will work is if we all tell h
er together,” Kaitlyn said.

  “I can—” Avery began, but Kaitlyn shook her head.

  “No, you can’t. You’re the last person she’ll want to hear this from.”

  “But—”

  “She’s right,” Sarah agreed. “I think it would be better not to say anything at all. It’s hardly our business anyway.”

  Kaitlyn shifted in her seat. “Well…”

  “What?” Avery asked.

  “I heard talk that Peter might use the occasion to propose.”

  Avery dropped her head back against the headrest and groaned. “You’re kidding me.”

  “It’s not confirmed.”

  “But likely.”

  “Yes, I think so,” Kaitlyn said.

  “Well, then, we have to tell her. I’m not letting her marry this scumbag. Sarah, please.” Avery sent her puppy dog eyes.

  Sarah almost pointed out that Avery wasn’t likely to have a lot of say in the matter if the couple was matched by their families, but kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t thrilled to be doing a favor for the Queen of Snark, but Avery would just tell her anyway, and Kaitlyn was right. That wouldn’t go over well. She didn’t want to see Avery hurt. Sometimes, you just had to take one for the team. Even when it meant helping the mean girl who’d tried to ruin your life, one delicately placed lie at a time. “Fine. But let’s all tell her. I’m not doing it alone. Before the proposal, if there is one,” Sarah said.

  “Agreed,” Kaitlyn said.

  Avery sent Sarah a sunny smile.

  Chapter Three

  A Case of Mistaken McGrumpy

  Two hours later, the driver pulled into the circular drive of the McGregors’ Catskills estate and eased behind a sedate black Mercedes crawling along in a long line of equally glossy cars. The stately stone and brick colonial stood erect and imposing on the edge of a mountain, like a pompous elderly butler overlooking his master’s domain. Enter if you dare. The fairy lights trailing over and around the ancient structure spoiled the lofty pretentiousness only slightly. The car finally stopped next to a pleasant-looking man in shirtsleeves and a thin black vest, and they all slid out. Avery handed Sarah the dessert they’d picked up at Cakewalk earlier. “I’ll see you later, my darling,” she whispered seductively, patting the bright pink cardboard before letting go with comical reluctance.