Desperate Measures

by Elle Casey

“Is that a good thing?” he asked.

  “Yes. I mean no! I mean yes! Oh, shoot. I don’t know.”

  “She said you were hot,” said Kiki.

  Aimee looked like she wanted to be swallowed into a hole in the floor. Her face turned even redder as she whipped around to look at Kiki, her mouth opening up but no sound coming out.

  Kiki shrugged. “She did. I’m not lying.”

  Elizabeth decided to do something totally out of character and joined in, keeping a straight face. “She did. I witnessed it.”

  Aimee rolled her eyes and bit her lower lip, before bursting out, “Fine! Okay, I said it. I admit it, okay? Geez.” She put her head down on her arm on the table. “Somebody shoot me,” she mumbled. Then she lifted her head, looking up at her admirer with a hopeful expression on her face. “Did you bring your gun?”

  He smiled, bending down to sit in the booth next to her. “Nope. No gun tonight. But how about I buy you a drink?” He looked up at Elizabeth and Kiki. “You girls drinking tonight?”

  “Chardonnay,” said Kiki. “Napa Valley. The bartender knows.”

  The cop looked at Aimee – actually at the top of her head, since she was back to hiding her face – and said, “Do you mind if I buy you and your friends a glass of wine?”

  Aimee picked her head up and looked at her friends. “Do I mind?”

  Elizabeth and Kiki just shrugged their shoulders.

  Aimee looked at him, suddenly all shy. She cleared her throat and said, “That would be nice, Joe. Thank you.”

  He winked at her. “You remembered my name. I’ll take that as a good sign. Be right back.” He got up and went to the bar, leaving Aimee to her well-deserved teasing.

  “Good pick, Aimee. A hot cop. I like it,” said Elizabeth, smiling at her, honestly impressed. She got a good feeling about him. He wasn’t flashy or roostery. That’s how she pictured a lot of cops – walking around like roosters in the hen house. This guy was more calm and collected, as if he were totally confident in his maleness and didn’t need to advertise it so obviously.

  “He’s that guy,” said Kiki, “the cop who was all worried about you in the emergency room, right?”

  Elizabeth cleared her throat loudly. “Hello ... need to be filled in over here.”

  “Okay, quick breakdown before he comes back,” said Kiki. “Aimee was at the E.R. with a cut-open head, thanks to Jack the jackass.”

  “Don’t tell Joe that! He doesn’t know what happened!” said Aimee.

  “Whatever,” said Kiki. “And this cop, Joe I guess, was coming through on his way out, sees Aimee looking all sad and damsel-in-distress-like, and he takes her outside and ... I don’t know ... ,” she turned to Aimee, “ ... what happened then?”

  “He asked me what happened, thinking it was a domestic violence thing, and then gave me his card with his cell on it. And he said I could call him anytime.”

  “Well?” asked Elizabeth. “Did you call him?”

  “What? No! Of course not!” said Aimee.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because ... well ... I guess I didn’t need his services,” she finished lamely.

  Kiki wiggled her eyebrows at Aimee. “You sure about that?”

  “Shhhh!” Aimee said, trying not to smile, but failing miserably.

  “Did you see his hands?” Kiki asked. “Big. Thick.”

  “Veiny,” added Elizabeth.

  Kiki looked at Elizabeth, her head cocked to the side, saying nothing.

  “What?” said Elizabeth defensively. “I notice that stuff. I like veiny hands.”

  “What else do you like veiny?” asked Kiki.

  “Well, funny you should ask ... ,” said Elizabeth, looking over at Aimee and seeing she was about to have a heart attack.

  “He’s coming back,” said Aimee. “Stop talking about big, thick, veiny things.”

  Two seconds later, Joe sat back down in the booth, somehow managing to carry three glasses of wine and one beer in his hands.

  All the eyes around the table were focused on those hands. Elizabeth noticed that they were exceptionally veiny ... and thick.

  “Oh my god,” whispered Aimee, before she could stop herself, staring at his hands.

  Joe looked at her, confused. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your ... hands ... ” She gulped.

  He held his hands out in front of him, first palm up and then turned palm down. “What’s wrong with my hands?” He rubbed them a few times and clenched and unclenched his fists.

  Elizabeth looked over at Aimee and thought for a second the poor girl was going to swoon, but instead, she grabbed her glass of wine and took a big gulp.

  Joe picked up his beer. “Cheers.”

  The girls picked up their glasses and clinked them together.

  “What’s the toast?” asked Kiki.

  “Here’s to weekends not spent in the emergency room,” he said, smiling at Aimee.

  “I’ll drink to that,” she said, taking another big gulp. She used her fingertips to wipe off her mouth.

  “Well, I don’t mean to break up your party, here.” He moved as if to go, but turned to Aimee before he did. “Maybe I could get your number ... so I could call you sometime ... if that’s okay ... ”

  Aimee got a scared look on her face. “I don’t know ... ,” she said, tentatively.

  “Give me your phone,” said Kiki, gesturing for Joe to hand it over. She was pulling her own phone out of her bag.

  He handed it to her wordlessly and everyone at the table watched as she typed two sets of numbers into his keypad. When she was done, she handed the cell back to him.

  “The first one is her cell number. The second one is her house number. We’re roomies.”

  Joe smiled and held his phone out to Aimee. “Is this okay with you? I don’t want to call you if ... you’re not into it or whatever.”

  “I have baggage,” she burst out. A split second later she got a panicked look on her face and whispered loudly, “Did I just say that out loud?”

  Kiki nodded, laughing but trying to hide it.

  “Don’t we all,” said Joe, standing up. “I’ll call you. If you want to talk to me, pick up the phone. If you don’t, that’s okay, just don’t answer. I’ll probably try three or four times before I give up.” He smiled before casually walking away, going back to the bar and his group of friends who weren’t trying to hide their curiosity.

  “I wish Betty were here,” said Aimee, her head back on her arm.

  “Why?” asked Elizabeth, wondering how a ninety-something-year-old woman could possibly make this better for her.

  “Because she has a gun,” said Aimee’s muffled voice.

  Elizabeth looked at Kiki. “She’s a serious lightweight. Did she drink before she came here?”

  “Not that I know of. But she’s under a lot of stress. Her ex is seriously bad news. Lawyer. Cheated on her.”

  “I can hear you!” came Aimee’s cranky voice.

  “Well, sit up and join the conversation then, you big baby,” said Elizabeth in a friendly, encouraging voice. “You made it through your first potential hook-up scenario unscathed. You’re in good shape. You got the hottest and probably nicest guy in the place to ask you for your phone number.”

  Aimee sat up, a smile dawning on her face. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” nodded Elizabeth, “you did. Now, can we talk about our plans? Because if I don’t get to these talking points before we leave, I’m going to be so stressed by the time I get home, I’ll probably clean my whole house before I go to sleep.”

  “That sounds like a condition,” joked Kiki.

  “It is. It’s called OCD. I’m pretty sure I have a mild form of it.”

  “I think all accountants do,” said Kiki.

  “Okay, so as I was saying, before Officer Hottie came to drool over Aimee, is that I suggest we come up with a basic plan. An outline. And then we meet over the next few days to hammer out the details. Since none of us are c
urrently employed, I figured we might as well put this free time to good use.”

  “I agree with your proposal,” said Kiki, without hesitation.

  “I agree too, even though I’m not really sure what I’m agreeing to,” said Aimee, her head up now and her happy look back on her face.

  Elizabeth could see it was taking a lot of Aimee’s concentration not to look over at Joe, so she sighed and said, “Go ahead. Look over there once. I know you want to.”

  “What’s he doing?” Aimee whispered.

  Kiki looked over. “He’s pretending like he’s watching the soccer game on T.V., but he keeps checking you out. Hook, line, and sinker, baby. You’ve got him. He’ll call you tomorrow. I’ll bet he doesn’t even wait the standard three-day period.”

  Elizabeth looked over. “You’re right. I agree with that.”

  “Standard three-day period? What’s that?” asked Aimee.

  “Guys like to play this game and pretend that they’re not as interested in you as they really are. So they wait at least three days to call. Makes you wait by the phone and shit. Very annoying,” explained Kiki.

  “Some guys aren’t playing. They really don’t care enough to call sooner,” said Elizabeth.

  “True. Either way, it sucks.”

  “And you guys don’t think he’ll do that?”

  “No. He looks serious,” said Elizabeth.

  “And not desperate,” said Kiki.

  “Does that make a difference?” asked Aimee.

  “Of course,” said Kiki.

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. “Because some guys who might call you the very next day are desperate. Like they can’t get a date with anyone because they’re so freaky or whatever. You don’t want one of the desperate ones. They can go all stalker on you later if you’re not careful.”

  “So ... how do I know if he’s one of those ... if he calls me the first day?”

  “Oh, we can already tell you. He’s not,” said Kiki.

  Elizabeth noticed Aimee looking to her for confirmation of Kiki’s statement, so she said, “Kiki’s right. He’s not. It’s obvious. I’m ninety-nine percent sure.”

  “How do you guys know all this?” asked Aimee, bewildered.

  “Internet dating,” said Elizabeth.

  “Any kind of dating,” said Kiki.

  “How am I going to learn all this stuff?” asked Aimee, back to being distressed.

  “Don’t worry,” assured Kiki, “we’ll give you a crash course.”

  “I don’t know about Kiki, but I’m an expert. I’ve been on at least twenty online dates, and I know all the games and B.S. that goes on. I will be your Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

  “I’m going to be a jedi internet dater?”

  “If you choose to accept your destinyyyyy ...”

  Kiki groaned. “Oh, god, that was bad.”

  “I know, right?” said Elizabeth, smiling and taking a sip of her wine. It felt good to joke around with girlfriends like this. At that moment she couldn’t have been happier that she’d started that book club.

  Chapter 16

  AIMEE WOKE UP WITH A headache. She looked up at the ceiling and experienced a quick moment of panic as she tried to place exactly where she was. She turned her head on her pillow, first to the left and then to the right, taking in the tasteful yet feminine decorations on the walls and the cute knick-knacks on top of the furniture against the walls. Her hand brushed across sheets that were so soft, she was sure they had to be over a thousand thread-count.

  Then she remembered. This was her room. In her new townhouse. The one she was sharing with Kiki. A huge smile bloomed across her face ... until the pounding headache came back and reminded her what she’d done last night.

  She groaned as she rolled out of bed, her toes sinking into ultra thick, super plush carpeting. She smelled coffee coming from somewhere, and even though she wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, it beckoned her with its heady, fresh-roasted aroma. She looked down and saw that she was wearing her pajamas, deciding quickly that she could risk going out without getting dressed first. She left the bedroom and descended the stairs silently, not sure exactly what to expect.

  Aimee got to the bottom of the staircase and saw croissants on a plate at the dining room table. As she moved toward the kitchen, Kiki emerged.

  “Good morning, sleepy head,” Kiki said cheerfully. “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks. It smells great but I’m more of a tea person, actually.”

  “Earl Grey? Green? Mint?”

  “Earl Grey sounds amazing. And a pain reliever if you have one of those, too.”

  “Coming right up. Have a seat at the table there and drink that juice first. Your body needs the vitamins.”

  Aimee sat down and did as she was told, gulping the juice down in four swallows. She had no idea she was so thirsty. As soon as the flavor registered on her tongue, she knew it was fresh squeezed; it tasted like liquid heaven. “Mmmm …,” she said with a satisfying smack of her lips as she set the glass down.

  “Honeybells,” said Kiki, setting a cup of hot water with a tea bag floating in it on the table in front of Aimee. She sat down next to her. “They have the best juice. I get them in season and freeze gallons of the stuff.”

  Aimee reached over and took a croissant. She bit into it but wasn’t impressed by its tasteless, dry and cardboard-like consistency. She tried unsuccessfully to keep the frown off her face.

  “I know. They suck. But they’re the best I can find around here. We need to go to Paris to get the good ones.”

  “I can make better ones than this in my home kitchen,” said Aimee, chewing the pastry and swallowing it down anyway because she needed to get something into her stomach to ease the queasiness there.

  “I’m happy to support any cooking challenges you wish to undertake in this house. I’ll even provide chopping services and clean up after you. You can call me Alice.”

  “Why Alice?”

  “She was the maid on Brady Bunch.”

  “Oh. Well, I have to get more of my stuff first.”

  “Yes,” said Kiki, standing up, going back into the kitchen and coming out with a pad of paper and a pencil. “Our to-do list for the day.”

  Aimee held out her hand and Kiki passed it to her. She took a sip of her tea while she read the items off. “Get ready to go out. Get Aimee’s stuff. Move Aimee’s stuff in. Eat lunch. Meet with Elizabeth. Make business plans. Eat dinner. Party.” Aimee looked up. “I like everything but the last one. My headache is pounding too hard to even consider another glass of wine.”

  “It’ll go away. You just need to hydrate. And maybe stick to something other than white wine. You were knocked on your ass last night.”

  “I know, I’m like a total lightweight or something. But in my own defense, I really hadn’t eaten all day before I met you guys.”

  “Well, that’ll do it. Why didn’t you eat?”

  “I don’t know. First I was too depressed; then I got the email about going out and I was too excited.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’ve scheduled meals in there, so you’ll be better tonight, hopefully. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you have a good time. It’s pretty decent entertainment.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “What are you going to say to him when he calls?”

  “Who? Jack?” asked Aimee, confused about the change in topic.

  “No, Joe.”

  “Oh. Shoot. I forgot about him,” said Aimee putting her hand to her forehead. “What did I say to him last night? The memories are kind of faint ... is the reality as bad as I’m remembering it?”

  Kiki laughed. “No. It wasn’t bad. It was cute. I think he fell in love with you a little last night.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Aimee, totally not believing a word Kiki was saying, sure that she was just being nice to spare her feelings. She was pretty certain she’d made a fool of herself – probably slurred her words and everything.

  “Serious. I promise.” Kiki held up h
er hand, pledging her honesty.

  “Well, if he calls, I have no idea what I’ll say. I’m just going to have to wing it. And pray that Jack doesn’t find out about him.”

  “Jack has nothing to do with this,” said Kiki. “You don’t need his permission to have a life of your own.”

  “I know, I know. I’m not saying that. I just ... I want to avoid making him mad, because lately, he’s seemed a little unhinged. He never used to get physical with me, but the last few times he’s been over, especially when he sees me being more confident or happy, he gets crazy.”

  “He realizes he’s losing control of you.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe that’s it.”

  “Guys like him ... control freaks ... they can’t handle it when someone they’ve mind-fucked for years goes off the range like that. It makes them question everything they thought they knew about themselves and you ... ”

  “You sound like you speak from experience,” said Aimee, softly.

  “When you work at places where I’ve worked, you start to see patterns. Your ex is like the pimps I’ve known – guys who have hurt friends of mine. Some girls even end up dead when guys like that lose it.”

  “That’s awful,” said Aimee, truly horrified that this kind of thing happened and that Kiki had actually seen it. “You mean, it could have happened to you?”

  “Well, I never hooked, but it’s why I’m out of that business and currently seeking other opportunities. After a dancer gets older, there’s not a lot in the same field other than selling your body. And this body ain’t for sale at any price.” She stood up. “Now hurry and finish your breakfast. We have a schedule to follow.”

  “Bossy much?” Aimee asked, smiling.

  “More like enthusiastic and excited. And I want to get you moved in so you can get away from Jack for good. He worries me.”

  “Me too,” said Aimee, gulping down the rest of her hot tea and wincing at the sharp scalding, taking another quick bite of her croissant to ease the pain. Now she was as motivated as she needed to be to follow Kiki’s list. Getting away from Jack for good was the best idea she’d heard in months. Maybe even years. She couldn’t wait to say goodbye to that house for the last time. All it held for her now was bad memories. She was ready to move on and never look back.