Girlfriends (Patrick Sanchez) (3 page)

“Mary, what a pretty name. I’m Griffin,” he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting up, and offering one to Gina.

Gina shook her head. Short, fat, bald,
and
you smoke. How
do
you keep the women away? “Yeah, my mother’s name was Mary, and her mother . . .”

She almost said “And her mother too” but caught herself before the lie seemed too ridiculous. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid to give out her real name. She just got a kick out of making one up, especially around guys like Griffin, whom she knew she would never really be interested in. Just as she was thinking of a good occupation to tell the loser (maybe a nurse or, what the hell, how about a personal assistant to Laura Bush), Linda emerged from the crowd. Gina gave her
the look,
and Linda immediately went into action. She frowned and put her hand to her forehead before telling Gina that she had a headache and wanted to leave.

Gina turned to Griffin, not remembering his name. “Oh, ah . . . ?”

“Griffin,” he replied.

“Griffin, my friend really isn’t feeling well. I think we have to leave.”

“I’d be happy to take you home if you’d like to stay for a while.”

“Oh, I need to go anyway. I have an early day at the White House tomorrow.”

“The White House?”

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you.”

“Can I call you?”

“Sure,” Gina said as she walked away, hoping he wouldn’t have the guts to ask for her phone number.

“Mary,” Griffin called. “Your phone number?”

Gina kept walking pretending not to hear, and fortunately Griffin didn’t persist.

Gina and Linda hit the street.

“Where should we go now?”

“I don’t know, Linda. There are so many trolls out tonight. Here a troll, there a troll, everywhere a troll troll.” Gina was getting frustrated. It had been months since she’d met anyone who even remotely interested her.

“Why don’t we go over to the Phase?” Linda suggested, referring to Phase One, a bar near Capitol Hill.

“The Phase? That’s clear across town. Besides, what are the chances of me finding a man there?” Gina said, exasperated.

“Would you forget about finding a man for once in your life and just try to have some fun? Come on, we’ll have a few drinks, and dance, and maybe
I’ll
get lucky.”

“All right, Linda, let’s go.” Gina was feeling a little resigned anyway. Maybe just relaxing and getting stone drunk was what she needed.

Booty Call

“Y
ou know, you’re a royal pain in the ass.”

“Yes, but you love me anyway. Come on, Peter, if you had a dog, I’d do the same for you,” Gina said, calling from her cell phone outside Rumors.

“I don’t know, Gina. I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t feel like going outside.”

“Please, Peter, it will just take a minute.”

“Yeah whatever,” Peter said, and hung up the phone.

He was in the middle of taking his daily vitamin regimen when Gina called. He recently switched all of his vitamins into a handy pillbox with seven compartments. It was so much easier than finding seven different containers in his gym bag and then opening each bottle individually. He got up from the chair, muttering to himself, “Gina, out having a good time and wants me to make sure her dog doesn’t pee all over the place.” He got the key from the hook and went down the hall to Gina’s apartment.

Peter and Gina met when she was still an undergraduate at American University and he was in his first year of law school there. They dated for just over a year, and it was actually after they had broken up, and after Peter dropped out of law school, that he moved into Gina’s building. Gina’s grandmother owned her unit and leased it to Gina for a nominal rent. When a unit a few doors down from her opened up, she mentioned it to Peter, and he moved in a few weeks later.

“Hi, Gomez. Hey, boy. How ya doing? Yeah, your owner’s out drinking and trying to find a man,” Peter said to Gomez in what Gina had come to call his Gomez voice. He sounded like he had just sucked down helium and some angry woman was pulling on his balls. Gomez always got so excited when Peter came over—or when anyone came over for that matter. Peter picked up Gomez and stroked him on the head.

“How are you, Gomez?” he said to the little dog, putting him up to his ear.

Silence.

“Oh, you are?” Peter said back to the dog.

Silence.

“Oh, you did? Wow, that’s cool, Gomez.”

Peter wasn’t sure what kind of dog Gomez was. He thought Gina mentioned something about him being a miniature dachshund, but Peter had never seen a dachshund like Gomez. He had the elongated body and short legs, but he also had a long, fluffy fur coat like Peter had never seen on a dachshund. Peter sat down on the floor with Gomez and rubbed the dog’s belly and scratched his neck before getting up and grabbing a leash from the table by the door.

“Hold still, boy. I can’t get the leash on you if you don’t hold still. I’m going to leave you here if you don’t calm down. God damn it, you stupid mutt . . .”

When Gomez and Peter finally got outside, they traipsed straight to the grassy area in front of the apartment building. Gina and Peter lived in one of the few buildings in the neighborhood that actually had a small grassy patch between the building and the sidewalk. Gomez knew it was stupid to do his business right away, because then Peter would just take him back inside. Playing the moment for all it was worth, he searched for a lightning bug or moth to chase. No such luck, so he just kept walking and sniffing the ground. Once again Peter and Gomez caught the attention of some fellow apartment dwellers. This time an Asian couple just getting out of their car. They had the typical reaction most people had when they saw Peter walking Gomez—a six-foot-tall, burly Italian walking a miniature dachshund. It didn’t help matters that the dachshund constantly tugged on the leash while prancing around with his tongue hanging out. Gomez insisted on pulling too hard on the leash, causing him to make harsh choking noises every few minutes as he meandered around the neighborhood. The couple gawked a little and laughed under their breath as they walked toward the lobby.

“All right, Gomez, shit or get off the pot. We’re going inside,” Peter called to the dog, who continued to trot ahead of Peter, ignoring his walker’s frustration.

When Gomez finally watered the lawn, Peter dropped him off at Gina’s and went down the hall to his apartment. After he finished thoroughly washing his hands with antibacterial soap and super-hot water, a ritual he performed whenever he came back into the apartment, he saw that the message light on the answering machine was blinking.

BEEP. “Hi, Peter, it’s Cheryl. I just got in. It’s about eleven-thirty. Call me if you get in soon. I rented a couple of movies if you want to watch them with me.”

Peter grinned when Cheryl mentioned the movies. She was probably calling for a little midnight action, and rented movies were an easy segue. Although Cheryl did have other excuses and sometimes got quite creative. The time she actually took the drapes off the window so he could come over and help her put up some “new” curtains was probably one of her best. The whole facade was silly, but then, leaving a message on Peter’s machine saying “Hey, I’m horny as hell. Want to come over and fuck me?” might have seemed a tad blunt.

“Hi, I was just out walking Gina’s dog,” Peter said, playing with the phone cord.

“You let that tramp walk all over you. Isn’t that mutt of hers dead yet?”

Peter couldn’t help thinking how ironic it was that in the midst of making a booty call at midnight, Cheryl managed to call Gina a tramp. “Careful, Cheryl, your claws are showing. What are you doing just getting in at eleven-thirty?”

“I went for a drive. I have a lot going on right now. Do you mind if I come over for a while? I really could use someone to talk to.”

“No, not at all. I’m kind of tired though. I had a long day myself.”

“Okay, I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Bye.”

Perky Cheerleaders

G
ina and Linda were on the dance floor at the Phase, moving to the music played by the heavy set (all right—fat) deejay up in the booth overlooking the room. She must have been a guest deejay. Linda and Gina had never seen her before. Apparently, her name was Tanya and she never took song requests. Actually, she accepted them, saying, “I’ll try to get it on for you,” and then played whatever her fat ass felt like playing. But Gina figured it worked. The place was packed every weekend.

Gina was buzzed to the core. Her vision blurred just a little as she left the dance floor and headed for the bar. She felt really good, or at least numb, and one more beer would only intensify this state.

“Another draft, Pearl,” Gina asked the bartender. She was probably the only straight girl in D.C. on a first-name basis with the bartenders at the Phase.

“Okay, darlin’. Are you sure you haven’t had enough?”

“I most certainly have not had enough. In fact, I haven’t gotten any in months.”

Pearl grinned, twisted the cap off a bottle of Miller Lite and handed it to Gina. “On the house, darlin’.”

Gina barely had a chance to taste her beer, when someone approached her from behind.

“Gina? Is that you?”

Gina hesitated for a moment before recognizing the woman. “Annie! My God! How are you?” Gina replied with a look of surprise on her face.

“I’m great. Never thought I’d see you here.”

Gina never thought she’d see Annie there either. “Yeah, well, I’m here with a friend. She’s on the dance floor.”

“Why would she leave you all alone over here?”

“I just don’t feel much like dancing right now,” Gina replied.

“Not even with me?”

“I suppose I could be convinced to go out there for a little while.”

Annie took Gina’s hand and led her to the dance floor. They joined the lesbians under the lights and started swaying to the music. Gina was feeling the beers, and, a few minutes into the dancing, she started seductively straddling her partner and dancing like she was in the movie
Dirty Dancing.
She wasn’t interested in women, but in her drunken state she enjoyed teasing Annie, who Gina assumed was a lesbian. After all, the Phase was one of the few lesbian bars in the city. Gina had gotten used to lesbians, and lesbian bars, and lesbian book clubs, and lesbian this and lesbian that. Linda always asked her to come along to various events, and Gina figured a night with a bunch of lesbians was better than a night with Gomez and the television set.

“I didn’t know you stayed in the area, Gina. So many people have moved away,” Annie said after they stepped off the dance floor.

“Well, after college I got a job here in the District, so I decided to stay.”

“Do you live downtown?”

“Yeah, near Dupont Circle,” Gina said. “Just a few blocks from here.” If the lesbian bar scene was anything like the straight scene, Gina figured Annie was trying to decide if it was better to suggest going back to her place or to Gina’s.

“How about you, Annie? Where are you living these days?”

“I’m just over in Adams Morgan.”

“Are your parents still in the District?”

“No, they moved out to Maryland a few years ago,” Annie said. “The city just got to be too much for them. You know, the crime and stuff.”

Fact was, there wasn’t a huge amount of crime in the Cleveland Park neighborhood of D.C., where Gina and Annie grew up and went to high school. It was one of a handful of neighborhoods left in the District that wasn’t declining. In fact, it was one of the most prestigious areas of the city. In high school Annie was a cheerleader, and perky, and, in Gina’s eyes, a bitch. Gina was too tall, too thin, and too lanky—at least she thought so. Not to mention shy and somewhat awkward. Gina hadn’t cared for Annie ever since they tried out for the cheerleading squad during her freshman year.

Gina was eager to be popular and make new friends when she started high school. What better way than to be a cheerleader. The first day of tryouts, Annie went around and introduced herself to everyone as the obvious choice for captain of the junior varsity squad. She explained that she had extensive training and had already won various awards during middle school. Gina didn’t even know awards existed for cheerleading but was eager to be liked and decided to approach Annie and offer her support. She was shy about approaching a stranger, especially one who seemed to be as self-assured as Annie. Nonetheless, Gina finally gathered her confidence and tapped Annie on the shoulder.

“Hi, Annie. I’m Gina Perry, and I just wanted to say I think you’d make a great captain.”

Annie looked Gina up and down and crinkled her nose. “Really? Are you trying out for the squad?”

“Yes,” Gina said humbly, seeking Annie’s approval.

“Honestly, Jennie,” Annie said, already forgetting Gina’s name. “I just don’t think you’d be a good fit. You’re quite a bit taller than the rest of the girls, and we’re really looking for girls with flair. Have you thought about the volleyball team? Or what about basketball?”

Gina was dumbfounded and just wanted to cry. Holding back the tears, she said, “Yeah, maybe volleyball is a good idea.” With that, she slumped back to the locker room and cried like a helpless baby. That was a defining moment for her personality and self-esteem for years to follow. For the next four years she and Annie barely exchanged words and ran with different crowds. Annie would eventually be captain of the squad and maintained a tightly knit circle of friends, which consisted of other cheerleaders and girls with “flair.” Gina hung with a small circle of friends that would eventually include Linda, and spent most of high school fading into the woodwork. It wasn’t until college that Gina outgrew her somewhat gawky demeanor and made some repairs to her self-esteem.

She hadn’t seen Annie since graduation about ten years earlier. Now, about twenty curve-enhancing pounds later, one-hundred-dollar-a-month hair-foiling sessions with Dennis, and a nose job that she was still paying for, Gina was certainly the more attractive of the two and was well aware of it. Despite this, Gina had days when she looked at the people around her and wished she resembled this person or that person. But she also had days, particularly when Shirley dragged her to the Shoppers Food Warehouse to save a buck on groceries, that she looked at the people around her and felt like a beauty queen. Annie had gained weight in all the wrong places and must’ve gone to one of those “fast food” hair salons for her latest do.