#14 Found myself a new leggy blonde
Sometimes I feel like I might be a masochist. Do I get off on hurting myself emotionally or something? I must, because otherwise I can’t possibly explain why I’m here in Francesca’s apartment, with Shaughna, waiting for Fran to get home. I only lost Tracy a few days ago – she hasn’t called or texted at all, and I’m not gonna be the first to cave, no fucking way – and now I’m supposed to spend the whole night cheering Franny up because Joshua got on his plane to London today.
Fran and I have been doing alright lately, and we’ve hung out a few times, but I think me having Tracy to distract me might have been a big part of why I was feeling like could handle being friends with Fran. I don’t think I’m completely over her yet, but I am getting there. I just hope that losing Tracy won’t set me back a couple of months.
I miss Tracy. I don’t want to, but I do. Not even necessarily the sex, although I obviously miss that, but I mostly just miss her. She’s my friend, and we’ve spent so many hours laughing and talking… I can’t imagine her never walking into my apartment anymore, taking off her shirt while she grabs a snack and pours herself a glass of wine, sipping it while settling onto my lap.
“You okay?” Shaughna asks, her blue eyes taking me in with a frown on her pretty face. She’s one of Francesca’s best friends, and I know the girl pretty well, but I’m not about to confide in her about my messed-up love life. No way.
“Yeah, just tired,” I lie. “Work is keeping me busy.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs, looking like she doesn’t believe me for a second. “You look like-”
Luckily, we hear the front door open, so I have a good reason to shush her. She rolls her eyes at me but complies anyway. A moment later, Franny steps into the living room, looking around in surprise. General Fluffington – who I brought over for this… joyous occasion, is rubbing against her legs.
“Hey you,” I say, trying to sound like I’m doing perfectly okay. “We figured you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Francesca brings her hand to her mouth and starts crying. Poor thing. I thought I had it rough, but she’s way sadder than I am. Shaughna pulls her in for a hug and brings her over to the couch, where Franny slumps against me, sobbing uncontrollably.
Good God, if this is what love does to a person, maybe it’s a good thing I’m on my own. Joshua isn’t dead. He didn’t leave her. He is just a little further away right now, across the ocean. It’s only London, not the end of the fucking world. He’ll be back.
Obviously, I am not going to say any of that out loud. Tonight is about being there for my friend. She may have broken my heart, but I still care about the girl. I don’t think I’m still in love with her, although it’s hard to know whether or not you fell out of love with someone.
“I’m being so stupid,” Franny says, trying to choke back her tears. “It’s not like he broke up with me or anything. I’m the one who told him to go, for God’s sake. I should be happy for him.”
“I still can’t believe you did that,” I say, remembering when she told me that while Joshua was perfectly fine with giving up on the opportunity to move to London for a year and work in his father’s company, Franny insisted he left. “He wanted to stay for you, and you pretty much kicked him out. That’s so…”
“Sweet,” Shaughna cuts in, giving me the stink-eye. “Romantic. The right thing to do for sure.”
“Right,” I chime in, knowing that’s what I should be saying. “Of course. Although…” Oh what the hell, let’s just put it out there. “I can’t help but think he could have gotten a job here. What he truly wanted was Franny and to have a music career, right? Why move across the world to be an accountant?” If it was me, and Fran had picked me to be with, I would never be so stupid to move away. I’d stay by her side for as long as she’d want me to.
Okay, maybe I’m still a little bit in love with her.
Fucking hell, why can’t I move on?
“When are you going to see him again?” Shaughna asks Franny, ignoring the line of questioning I had going on. Probably for the best, since I wasn’t exactly helping Fran feel any better.
“In a month.” Fran sighs. “Just for a long weekend, three days, but at least I’ve got the plane ticket booked already and it’s something to look forward to. I know it’s stupid, but I already miss him. I thought I’d be officially living with him right now, after his graduation, and instead…” She trails off, and wipes at her eyes. “This fucking sucks.”
“It does, but we’re not going to let you wallow,” I decide, more than ready to stop talking about Joshua. I like the guy, but he also pretty much single-handedly ruined my chances with the girl of my dreams. “We’re going out tonight. You, me, Shaughna, Dshawn. We’re going to get shit-faced.”
“Aston said he’s coming too,” Shaughna says, her eyes bright with excitement. She lives for nights like these. “He hasn’t been out since the baby was born, and he needs a night of drinking and dancing even more than you do.”
“I doubt that’s possible,” Franny says, sounding so down that I can’t help but rub her back. I don’t want her to miss someone who isn’t me this damn much, but I also don’t want her to feel anything other than happy. “I’ll text Yord and Marcia to see if they can join us too,” Fran decides, grabbing her phone. “Where are we going?”
“The Palace,” Shaughna announces, practically squealing with excitement. She and her boyfriend Dshawn bought a few vacant buildings a couple months ago, and they converted one of them into a night club called The Palace. It’s been open for a month now, and I went to the opening with Franny and some other friends, including Dylan. Joshua was with us as well, so I stayed away from him and Fran most of the night, but even though I was a little annoyed, it was still a good night in the end. The club is epic.
“I’m working, of course,” Shaughna says, not sounding sorry for herself at all. She loves being her own boss and working her ass off. “But I’ll make sure to sneak out from behind the bar to dance with you.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Fran tells Shaughna, hugging her from the side. “You and Dshawn are kicking ass. Your club is awesome. When is the restaurant next door opening?”
“In a few weeks,” she replies with a grin. “I managed to convince Michel to leave Giovanni’s and be our chef at The Stable, and he’s creating the menu and training his staff, while I work with the interior designer to make sure everything looks just the way I want it to.”
The name hits me like bomb going off in my head.
“Michel Quiroz?” I ask, my voice tight.
“Yeah, you know him?” Shaughna asks, glancing at me with a frown.
I shrug. “Our paths have crossed a few times.”
“He’s really nice, isn’t he?” she says, obvious to the fact that I’m seething with rage. “He’s a wizard when it comes to food. I’m so happy he agreed to come work for us!”
I know it’s stupid, but it feels like Michel took Tracy from me, even though that’s not at all what happened. I don’t even know if they’re back together or not. All I know is that Tracy hasn’t texted me since that night he showed up at her door.
Maybe I shouldn’t have left. Maybe I should have fought for her.
Then again, what was there to even fight for? I’m not at all in the right state of mind for a relationship, and it would be weird to ask her to not get back with her ex-boyfriend who she’s still very much in love with, just because I would like to continue having sex with her. Even if I was looking for a girlfriend, Tracy wouldn’t be the right fit for me. I like her, and I miss her, but she is not girlfriend material. Imagine being with someone who only wants to see you when she’s feeling good, who won’t share her bad days with you, who won’t be vulnerable.
I’ve seen her soft side a few times, mostly during or after sex, and especially when I couldn’t get her off. The moments she sat there waiting while I turned on another porn scene, there was always this haunted look in her eyes, like she was disappointed in herself. I think Tracy is way more fragile and insecure than she likes to admit. There is something about her that makes me want to protect her, even though at the same time I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as strong and resilient as her.
I compare her to Franny for a moment, and I just can’t imagine Tracy ever sitting on the couch, defeated because she can’t see her guy whenever she wants to. She wouldn’t bawl her eyes out. She’d go to work, make dinner, crawl up in bed and feel sorry for herself for about five seconds, and then she’d distract herself with something. Sex, maybe. Porn. Her vibrator. Anything to not have to feel.
The way Franny copes is way healthier, of course, but if I’m honest, I think I’m more like Tracy. When I get hurt – really, truly hurt – I get drunk, or high, or both, and drag someone new into my bedroom to fuck my troubles away. I don’t sit around moping. I find myself a distraction, preferrable a leggy blonde, lose myself in her, and then I get my ass back in line, making sure my work doesn’t suffer. Not that Dylan would ever allow me to put our tech business in danger just because I'm crushing on the wrong girl.
“Thomas?” Shaughna asks, and I can tell from her tone that she it’s not the first time she’s saying my name to get my attention.
“Yeah?” I reply, looking up to see that Franny is in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone. “Who’s she talking to?”
“Joshua’s dad,” Shaughna replies. “Now back to you, Thomas. Why are you looking like you want to crawl into a corner and die?”
I grin at her dramatic way of telling me I don’t look too great. “Why, Shaughna, such flattery… If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get into my pants. Does Dshawn know you’ve got it bad for me, baby?”
She rolls her eyes. “You wish, Thom.”
“Yeah, baby, I’ve been wanting to get with you for years,” I tease, blowing her a kiss. “Ditch your man and run away with me, cutie.”
“Oh, Thom, I thought you’d never ask…” She leans in, batting her lashes at me. “You know Dshawn will kick your ass if you so much as lay a hand on me.”
“Hmm, so tempting…”
We both laugh, and she swats my arm. I feel a little smug about distracting her. She’s perceptive, and she knows me well enough to see I’m not doing well, but I don’t want to talk about Tracy right now. Nor do I want Shaughna to ask me if I’m okay with Fran dating Joshua. She knows everything, of course, since Fran confides in her, so she knows I love Franny, and that I wish it would have been me. It sucks that everyone knows, because it makes it harder to hide my pain. That’s why I don’t want anyone to know about Tracy, I guess. If I tell someone, things will get real. Dylan doesn't count, of course. He's always in on everything.
I am more than ready to go out, drink my troubles away, and find myself some leggy blonde to take my mind off the two leggy blondes I’ve lost the past year: Francesca and Tracy.
Leggy blonde number one – although she’s got pink hair these days – gets off the phone and sinks down onto the couch, her head on my shoulder as she sighs deeply.
I nudge her teasingly. “Jesus Christ, woman, are all these tears for Joshie boy, or are you on your period or something?”
She laughs, and I’m proud for getting that happy sound out of her when she’s this down. “I’ve got an IUD, remember? I barely ever get periods anymore. Haven’t had a real one since I got it put in five years ago.”
“Lucky you,” Shaughna grumbles.
“Enough talk about bleeding,” I say, shuddering. It must be horrible to be a woman. I can’t imagine bleeding from my penis for a week. Ugh, the thought alone makes me feel sick. “Get dressed in something slutty,” I order Fran. “We’re going dancing.”
“Am I slutty enough?” Shaughna asks me while Franny goes into her bedroom to change.
I let my eyes travel over her body and wink at her. “Very slutty, baby.” It’s not even a lie. Her nickname is slutty Shaughna, after all – a name she wears with pride. I’m not into Shaughna, and I’ve never thought of her like that, but I’m still a guy. I can appreciate a hot body when I see one, and her breasts are straining against the flimsy material of her red top. “You’ve got great tits.”
“Thanks,” she says, smirking. “I know.” Her eye falls on Franny’s guitar, and she grabs it. “Can you teach me a song, Thommy boy?”
I play a bit of guitar, my dad taught me, so I try to remember an easy song for her to play, but she doesn’t seem to be interested. Instead, she plays like she wants to kill me by making my ears bleed. I jump up and grab General Fluffington, waltzing around the room with him. He hisses at me at first, but decides it’s not worth the fight, so he just snuggles against my chest and allows me to dance around the room with him. The little ball of fur is one of the only things – or well, people – to bring me comfort this week. I’m happy that Franny is okay with him living with me now, although she does stop by to see him often.
I turn around in a weird pirouette and spot Franny walking back in, her tits spilling out of a low-cut dress. “Very nice, very slutty,” I comment, unable to take my eyes off her chest. Damn, she’s got perky tits. I wish I could bury my face between them.
She curses and pull the top of her dress higher up, blushing furiously. I wink at her and put The General back on the floor, petting him one last time before grabbing my keys and phone, ready to head out.
“Let’s go!” Shaughna shouts, so excited she can’t possible contain herself. “Oh my God, we’re going to my club. It’s still so weird to think about. I own my own business. I’m such a grown-up.”
I can’t help but laugh, and Franny joins in, her eyes sparkling as she looks at me. I’m glad to see her happier now that she’s no longer wallowing.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Shaughna complains, throwing her long blonde hair over her shoulder with a flourish. “I’ve got the power to either give you free booze or cut you off completely, so you’d better start buttering my up.”
“Oh beautiful queen Shaughna,” I say dramatically, dropping to my knees. “I kiss the ground you walk on,” I press my lips to the floor, and wince when dust and cat hairs connect with them. “Ew! Fran, when is the last time you vacuumed?”
“No idea,” she replies with a shrug. Two months ago? Three? I haven’t really been living here for seven months, after all.”
“Ew.” I shudder and wipe my mouth. Then I jump back to my feet and brush the dust off my pants. “Okay, I’ve probably got some horrible disease now that will kill me before the night is over, so I guess we should make tonight count. I’m going to need at least twenty shots of expensive liquor to disinfect my poor tongue and give myself a fighting chance of surviving the germs on your floor.”
The girls laugh, and then we’re off to The Palace, where Shaughna tells us to order whatever we want on her tab, so I immediately order three shots for myself and text Dylan to meet me here.
“Hey guys!” Aston shows up behind Franny, picking her up like she weighs nothing and carrying her over to the dancefloor, making her shriek. I laugh at her flushed cheeks and his eagerness to cut loose after spending the past months taking care of his pregnant wife, and then his newborn baby.
I glance at my phone to see if Dylan is here yet, and to my surprise, I see a text from Tracy lighting up. I open it, hoping she wants to meet up, but it’s the opposite.
Sorry, she says, I got back together with Michel, so our arrangement is off.
Fine, I shoot back, doing a shot to gain some liquid courage. I’ll find someone else to have a threesome with. Have fun with your hot chef.
I’m pathetic. I wasn’t her boyfriend, only her fuckbuddy. I doubt she even saw me as her friend. Even though we told each other a million times we knew what we were doing and that we were only distracting each other from Franny and Michel, I can feel that sick feeling my stomach that I had back when Fran told me that she didn’t see me that way.
I’m not in love with Tracy, I don’t even know her well enough for that, but I don’t want to lose her to that stupid chef with his tall frame, warm smile and his stupid flowers. Then again, I’m not going to fight for someone who obviously doesn’t want me. I’m better off without her.
As you know, Michel and I break up every few months, so I’m sure I’ll be back in your bed soon enough, Tracy shoots back, with a winky face at the end of her text.
What the fuck does she think she’s doing? Is she trying to keep her options open? Or is she just teasing me, thinking that I can’t possibly care about her fucking Michel instead of me?
My bed might have a girl in it already, I reply. I’m out with friends tonight. Drunk and on the prowl. Who knows, I might find my next victim within the next hour.
I do two more shots and close my eyes for a moment, trying to push Tracy out of my head. Of course, I can’t help myself and I check to see if she wrote anything back yet.
I thought you were into threesomes? she writes. I’m sure there would be room in your bed for me even if there was another girl in there with you already.
Fucking hell, what is it with this girl? Does Michel knows she’s sending me flirty sexts when they’ve only just gotten back together?
I turn around and see Dylan grinning at me, holding up tequila shot. He’s looking around with bright eyes. It’s been a while since we were out like this.
“My man,” I reply, motioning for the waiter to bring me more shots. I down a few, and take the others to Franny and Aston, with Dylan right behind me.
“Dance, bitches!” Aston yells, looking a little buzzed. Then again, I’m feeling the booze myself. I don’t normally do this many shots so close together, and I am starting to get a little… well, okay, fine, I’m drunk. Drunk as a fucking skunk.
Franny dances with me, and I put my hands on her hips, pulling her against me. My cock twitches, and I feel her pull back immediately, a shocked look on her face. She keeps a distance from me, and I feel a little annoyed with her, but I see that she does the same to Aston and Dylan, so it’s not just me.
Where are the drunk slutty girls when you need them?
Right on cue, I feel hands on my shoulders, spinning me around.
“Vicky!” I say surprised, recognizing one of the twins who hired me and Dylan for their fancy party planner business.
“Debby,” she corrects me, laughing.
Instead of apologizing, I grab her around the waist and pull her against me as I start dancing again. Although dancing is a generous term for the drunken way I’m grinding against her, to be honest. My cock twitches against her stomach and her eyes go wide, a sly smile appearing on her face. She moves her hand to my hair and pulls it out of the messy bun, running her hands through it, tugging at it gently.
She wants me. I don’t need her to say it to know she does. And my cock seems to be happy to grow rock-hard against her stomach, so I guess I’ve found the leggy blonde I’m taking home tonight.