"Kids got soccer games on Saturday, I'm thinking that Sunday I'll do some work around the house, the wife wants me to build a bookcase in our media room."
I nodded politely, Brad's opinion of Broward's life coming to me unbidden. Boring. Dull. I don't know that Broward saw it like that. A lot of people were perfectly happy with their lives being ordinary. Not everyone needed fast cars, excitement, and sex. Did I?
The elevator dinged and I nodded to Broward and walked out into the garage, headed to my Camry.
I spent the weekend in bed, with a giant roll of chocolate chip cookie dough and a glass of milk. I went old school, putting in the first season of Desperate Housewives and watching the drama underneath a big comfy blanket. Sunday I started getting a little bored, and decided on a bubble bath and a book. My bubble bath only made it 15 minutes, before Alex, roommate #2, starting banging on the door. I sighed and pulled the drain, watching the bubbles circle the drain and disappear. I heard my cell ring in my bedroom and I pulled my naked body quickly up and out of the tub. I barely made it to my phone before it was sent to voicemail.
"Hello Becca."
"Hola chica! What'cha doing?"
"Something super exciting. Too exciting to go into now."
"Yeah right. This is you we are talking about." She giggled into the phone.
"Hello? Do I get NO credit for being super exciting and impulsive last weekend? I am a wild child, and don't you forget it."
"Riiiigggghhhhtt. So sorry, Miss Thang. Anyway, the new Tom Cruise movie is playing at 4pm, and I know how much you like older men…so what do you say?"
"It was ONE older man Becca. Don't brand me with this forever. And I say that I will forgo the super exciting thing that I was in the middle of, just so I can spend quality time with you. Is Olivia coming?"
She growled into the phone. "No. Says she has to STUDY. How lame is that?" I smiled into the phone.
"Super lame. Gosh, her sense of responsibility is absolutely ridiculous."
Becca completely missed my sarcasm. "I know, right?"
"Okay, you want to meet there, or are you picking me up?"
"I'll pick you up in twenty. We can shop a bit first, k?"
"Sounds good." I hung up, a smile on my first. For the first time in forever, I had money to burn. Time to go shopping.
For the first time all week, I took time in getting dressed. Becca was a tough critic and I wanted to look hot. When she blared the horn outside twenty minutes later, I was still pulling on heels and it took a minute for me to walk out. Becca had the top of her Mercedes convertible down, and Gwen Stefani blaring. Designer shades on, she looked like Malibu Barbie.
"Looking good, sistah," she said, pushing her glasses up and approving my skinny jeans, Jimmy Choos, and silk tank. I had put curl enhancer in my hair and had it down, hoping it would air-dry with some semblance of style. I opened the door and got in, reaching over to hug her.
"Got the goods?" she asked.
"You know it," I said, opening up my biggest purse and showing her the candy stash inside. I used to smuggle canned cokes and bags of ice, but Becca put the brakes on that, saying that was going too far. So now I stuck to just candy. Today I had packed Skittles, Peanut M&Ms, Sour Patch Kids, and Milk Duds. A mix of sour, sweet, and chocolate. I shut the door and she burned rubber, leaving skid marks in front of my mailbox. I laughed and turned up the radio, and we sang and danced all the way to the mall.
Hanging out with Becca is an experience. It's similar to being with a toddler, in that you have to watch her constantly or she will get into trouble. For Becca, the trouble is normally with M-E-N. She likes all of the wrong ones. Which, come to think of it, it yet another reason I should stay away from Brad, since Becca thinks he's great.
"I mean, it seems pretty stupid if you ask me," she lamented, flipping through dresses on a rack in Bloomingdales. "You and him had a great time in Vegas, you get along well, the sex.." she looked sideways at me, "is fantastic - why would you agree to never hang out again?"
I stopped my rack rifling and faced her. "I never said we had sex."
"Well I know you never SAID it, but puh-lease! You have sex countless times with two losers - sorry Jules but in retrospect you can admit it - losers - and never orgasmed. This guy makes you cum in the first four minutes that he gets you in bed! You're telling me you just said "thanks, but no thanks on seconds?" She shoved the dress hangers shut and glared at me. "I may be stupid when it comes to micro-biology or the Ancient History of Mayans but I know sex."
I bit the side of my cheek to keep from laughing. She pointed a finger at me, her face dead serious. "You tell me right now Julia Campbell or I will not tell you what part of your outfit looks hideously tacky."
"What!?!" I looked down at my…flawless… outfit in shock. She snapped her fingers at me and continued pointing, looking ridiculously somber considering she was wearing hot pink capris with matching fingernails.
"Okay, okay, but only so you stop pointing - Geez!" I huffed.
"So you admit it, that you, Julia Campbell, prude of all prudes, had *sex* (she whispered the word like it was a revered being) with that man?"
"Yes, I did! And it was wonderful, and hot, and sexual, and I had another orgasm. Happy?" I demanded.
She sank to her knees in dramatic fashion. "Ecstatically. Welcome to my world of slutdom. It is an amazing place to be."
I stepped over her knelt form and moved to the next rack. "Wait. What-"
"The leopard print belt," she muttered, getting to her feet and wiping her hands off. "Who pairs that with cork wedges?"
----
Three bags filled with amazing clothes later, we sat in a minuscule table in the food court, devouring a cookie cake slice and two Cokes.
"So seriously, Jules. Why stay away from each other if you both had fun?"
I toyed with a piece of icing that had broken off of the cookie crust. "I don't know, a few things really. One is my internship."
"Attorneys aren't allowed to date interns," she said nodding. "Seems like a logical rule."
"Right, but it's a little more complicated than that. Brad isn't just an attorney - he's a senior partner. And Broward , my boss, specifically forbade me to even speak to Brad, much less do all of the …other stuff…which we've done. So it's really important that I keep this a secret. Which so far I've done. If we keep seeing each other, the likelihood of it coming out grows. And the last thing I need blocking my acceptance to law school is a bad rec."