Wallbanger (7 page)

Caroline!

I might have a problem here.

Later that afternoon Jillian stuck her head inside my office. “Knock, knock,” she said, smiling.

“Hey! What’s going on?” I leaned back in my chair.

“Ask me about the house in Sausalito.”

“Hey, Jillian, how’s the house in Sausalito?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Done,” she whispered and threw her arms in the air.

“Shut up!” I whispered back.

“Totally, completely, absolutely done!” She squealed and sat down across from me.

I offered a fist bump across the desk. “Now
that
is some good news. We need to celebrate.” I reached into a drawer.

“Caroline, if you pull out a bottle of scotch, I’m going to have to consult human resources,” she warned, a grin twitching.

“First of all, you
are
human resources. And second of all, like I would keep scotch in my office! Obviously that’s in a flask lashed to my thigh.” I giggled, producing a Blow Pop.

“Nice. Watermelon even. My favorite,” she said as we unwrapped and began to suck.

“So, tell me all about it,” I prompted.

I’d been consulting a little with Jillian as she chose the final touches on the house she and Benjamin had been renovating, and I knew it was just the kind of house I’d been dreaming of for years. Like Jillian, it would be warm, inviting, elegant, and filled with light.

We talked shop for a while, and then she let me get back to work.

“By the way, housewarming next weekend. You and your posse are invited,” she said on her way out the door.

“Did you just say posse?” I asked.

“I might have. You in?”

“Sounds great. Can we bring anything, and can we stare at your fiancé?”

“Don’t you dare, and I would expect nothing less,” she fired back.

I smiled as I went back to work. Party in Sausalito? Sounded promising.

“You don’t seriously have a crush on him do you? I mean, how many dreams have you had about him?” Mimi asked, sucking on her straw.

“A crush? No, he’s an asshole! Why would I—”

“Of course she doesn’t. Who knows where that dick has been? Caroline would never,” Sophia answered for me, tossing her hair over her shoulder and stunning stupid a table of businessmen who’d been staring since she walked in. We’d met for lunch at our favorite little bistro in North Beach.

Mimi settled back into her chair and giggled, kicking me under the table.

“Piss off, pipsqueak.” I stared hard at her, blushing furiously.

“Yeah, piss off, pipsqueak! Caroline knows better than to…” Sophia laughed then trailed off, finally taking off her sunglasses and switching her gaze to me.

The cellist and the pipsqueak watched me fidget. One smiled and the other swore.

“Ah, jeez, Caroline, do not tell me you are crushing on that guy? Oh no, you are, aren’t you?” Sophia huffed as the waiter set down a bottle of Pellegrino. He stared at her as she ran her fingers through her hair, and she waved him away with a carefully aimed wink. She knew how men looked at her, and it was fun to watch her make them squirm.

Mimi was different. She was so tiny and cute that initially men were drawn in by her innate charm. Then they really got a look at her and realized she was lovely. Something about her made men want to take care of her and protect her—until they got her to the bedroom. Or so I’d been told. Crazytown that one was…

I’d been told I was pretty, and on some days I believed it. On a good day I knew I could work it. I never felt as hot as Sophia or as perfectly pulled together as Mimi, but I cleaned up good. I knew when the three of us went out we could really work a scene, and until recently we’d used this to our advantage.

We each had very distinct types, which was good. We rarely went for the same guy.

Sophia was very particular. She liked her men long, lean, and pretty. She liked them not too tall, but taller than her. She wanted her men polite and smart, and preferably with blond hair. It was her true weakness. She also was a sucker for a southern accent. Seriously, if a guy called her “sugar,” she’d wet herself. I had firsthand knowledge of this because I’d messed with her one night when she was wasted using my best Oklahoma accent. I had to fight her off the rest of the evening. She
claimed
it was college, and she wanted to experiment.

Mimi, on the other hand, was particular, but not with a specific look. She went for overall size. She liked her men big, huge, tall, and strong. She loved when they had to pick her up to kiss her, or stand her on a stool so they didn’t get neck cramps. She liked her men a little on the sarcastic side and hated condescending. Because she was small, she had a tendency to draw types that wanted to “protect.” But girlfriend had been taking karate since she was a kid, and she needed no one’s protection. She was a badass in a retro skirt.

I was harder to pin down, but I knew him when I saw him. Like the Supreme Court and pornography, I was aware. I did have a tendency toward outdoorsy guys—lifeguards, scuba divers, rock climbers. I liked them clean cut, but a little shaggy, gentlemanly with a touch of bad boy, and making enough money that I didn’t have to play mommy. I’d spent a summer with a hotter-than-hell surfer who couldn’t afford his own peanut butter. Even Micah’s round-the-clock orgasms couldn’t save him when I found out he’d been using my AmEx to pay for his sex wax. And his cell phone bill. And his trip to Fiji that I wasn’t even invited on. To the curb, surfer boy. To the curb.

I might have taken one more for the road before he left though. Ahh, the days before O’s departure. Round-the-clock orgasms. Sigh.

“So, wait a minute, have you seen him since the hallway encounter?” Sophia asked after we’d ordered and I’d come back from my surfer memories.

“No,” I groaned.

Mimi patted my arm soothingly. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

“Dammit—yes! Too cute for his own good. He’s such an asshole!” I slammed my hand down on the table so hard I made the silverware bounce. Sophia and Mimi exchanged a glance, and I showed them my middle finger.

“And then that morning, he’s in the hallway with Purina, kissing on her! It’s like some sick, twisted orgasm town going over there, and I want no part of it!” I said, chewing furiously on my lettuce after telling them the story for the third time.

“I can’t believe Jillian didn’t warn you about this guy,” Sophia mused, pushing her croutons around on her plate. She was on a no-bread thing again, terrified of the five pounds she claimed she’d put on in the last year. She was full of it, but there was no arguing with Sophia when she set her mind to something.

“No, no, she says she doesn’t know this guy,” I reported. “He must’ve moved in since the last time she was there. I mean, she hardly ever stayed in that place. They just kept it so they always had a place to stay in the city. According to the neighbors, he’s only been in the building a year or so. And he travels all the time.” As I spoke, I realized I’d compiled quite a dossier on this guy.

“So has he been wall banging at all this week?” Sophia asked.

“Relatively quiet, actually. Either he really listened to me and is being neighborly, or his dick finally broke off in one of them and he’s sought medical attention,” I said, a little too loudly. The table of businessmen must’ve been listening pretty closely as they all choked a little just then and shifted in their seats, perhaps crossing their legs in unwitting sympathy. We giggled and continued our lunch.

“Speaking of Jillian, you guys are invited out to the house in Sausalito next weekend for their housewarming party,” I informed them.

They both immediately fanned themselves. Benjamin was the one guy we all agreed on. Whenever we’d plied Jillian with enough liquor, we’d confess our crush to her and make her tell us stories about him. If we were lucky and had managed to get an extra martini into her…well, let’s just say it was nice to know sex continued to be worth doing even after your man was well into his forties. The one about Benjamin and the Tonga Room at the Fairmont Hotel? Wow. She was a lucky woman.

“That’ll be cool. Why don’t we come over and get ready at your place, like the old days?” Mimi squealed as Sophia and I plugged our ears.

“Yes, yes, that’s fine, but no more squealing or we’ll leave your ass with the bill,” Sophia scolded as Mimi settled back into her seat, eyes sparkling.

After lunch, Mimi walked toward her next appointment around the corner, and Sophia and I shared a cab.

“So, naughty dreams about your neighbor. Let’s hear it,” she began, to the great delight of the cab driver.

“Eyes on the road, sir,” I instructed as I caught him looking at us in the rear view mirror.

I let my thoughts drift to the dreams, which had come every night for the past week. I, on the other hand, had not—ratcheting up my sexual frustration to a critical point. When I could ignore the O, I was okay. Now that I was treated to dreams of Simon every night, O’s absence was even more pronounced. Clive had taken to sleeping on top of the dresser, safer with my flailing legs, you see.

“The dreams? The dreams are good, but he’s such an asshole!” I exclaimed, thumping my fist on the door.

“I know. That’s what you keep saying,” she added, looking at me carefully.

“What? What is that look?”

“Nothing. Just looking at you. You’re awfully worked up over someone who’s an asshole,” she said.

“I know.” I sighed, looking out the window.

“You’re poking me.”

“I am not.”

“Seriously, what the hell is in your pocket, Mimi? Are you packing?” Sophia exclaimed, jerking her head away as Mimi pressed the curling iron through her hair.

I smiled from my place on the bed, lacing up my sandals. I’d put my own hair up in rollers before the girls got here, so I’d been spared the full treatment. Mimi fancied herself some kind of beauty school dropout, and if she could’ve opened a shop in her bedroom, she’d have given it some careful thought.

Mimi produced a brush from her pocket and showed it to Sophia before starting to tease. With the brush, that is.

We were pre-partying just like we did at Berkeley, right down to the frozen daiquiris. Although we’d upgraded to the good alcohol and freshly squeezed lime juice, it still made us a little hyper and slaphappy.

“Come on, come on—you never know who you might meet tonight! You don’t want to meet Prince Charming with flat hair, do you?” Mimi reasoned as she forced Sophia to flip her hair over to “get some lift at the crown.” You didn’t argue—you just let her do it.