Chapter 13 Freddie for Frustration
There must be magic in Mom’s scalp oil because I rubbed my head before bed and woke up braver, spontaneous, hopefully far from silly. As soon as I clock in at the hotel, I beeline for the elevator instead of getting my assignment for the day. Bridget is already outside, walking up the hall when I reach the tenth floor. She’s got a basket in her hands so big it’s blocking the bottom of her face. She startles when she sees me standing in front of her.
“What are you doing back here? I was hoping you quit.”
I follow her up the hall. “Are you not enjoying my company anymore?”
“Your company is most enjoyable,” she says, passing me the basket to hold. It’s full of cleaning products and candles, Febreze fabric spray. “Come with me on this mission.”
“What’s the mission?”
“If I tell you, you’ll try to throw a wrench in my plans,” she says.
The toilet bowl cleaner is clue enough. “Would it happen to involve the man in 1010?”
“Would you stop me if I said yes?”
“Not today,” I tell her.
She glances at me with a knowing look on her face. “So, today’s the day you quit, isn’t it?”
“Are you a psychic? How can you tell?”
“I’m usually your last stop on the cleaning tour,” she says once we reach room 1010, “you don’t have your cart, and you’ve got this glow about you.”
“I’m nervous and I’m excited,” I admit, “but I’m sad too.”
Bridget grabs one of my hands from where it’s curled around the basket handle. “This place will be here, this work will always be available, but your business won’t if you don’t give it your all.”
“It’s not the work,” I say, looking down at the rings lining her wrinkled fingers: glinting blue and green and ruby stones set upon delicate skin.
“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” she says. “I’m a hard woman to shake. Don’t you know David miraculously manages to dial my number from beyond the grave to beg for my forgiveness twice a year?”
Tears burn at the backs of my eyes. I laugh and hope they don’t slip. “I did not know that, but I can’t blame him. I’ll miss you terribly.”
“And I’ll miss you, but you’re strong, talented. You don’t come back here. Not ever,” she says, then shakes her head. “Well, except to visit me. Listen, when I die, I’ll come back and haunt you if you leave this place and don’t drop in to see me once a year.”
“I’ll visit more than that. Gotta make sure you don’t get fickle and decide to haunt me because one day isn’t enough. Maybe you can even come visit me?” It’s a question I know she’ll refuse with Wilma on the same street, but I selfishly wonder what it would be like if Bridget made up with her sister. Would I be able to tolerate Wilma if it meant getting to see Bridget more?
She purses her lips, but doesn’t say no, just simply nods, takes the basket from me, and knocks on the door. When the man who clogs toilets opens it, I can’t deny there’s a sour smell wafting from his room.
“If you’re going to be staying here awhile, we all need you to have this,” Bridget says, holding the basket out to him with a polite smile on her face.
At night, Katrina and Lex come over to help me pack my bags for tomorrow’s trip. They tear through my closet and my drawers and pick too many outfits for the two days I’ll be in Cali. It doesn’t help that I’m so indecisive. I hold a jean jacket to my chest and stare at myself in my standup mirror before tossing it on my bed.
“What if everything I bring is wrong?”
“Then he can take you shopping,” Lex says, wiggling his brows. “Matter of fact, maybe you should go there with an empty suitcase and come back with a packed one.”
“I’m in agreement with Lex,” says Katrina, pulling three dresses from the closet and handing them to me. “If you’re going to date a rich boy who soaks media attention more than most B-list celebrities, better to reap all the benefits. But…since we already know you’re not about that life, why don’t you try some of these on for us?”
Lex sits on my bed and cups his hands together. “A little Laniah fashion show.”
I roll my eyes, but the corners of my lips rise. “Alright, put on some music.”
While we listen to hip-hop and RB throwbacks from the early 2000s, I try on every dress in my closet. We settle on two: a really short black one because you can never go wrong with a black dress and a pretty hunter-green one that hugs my curves so well I wonder out loud why I’ve never worn it in public.
“Because you’re the picture of modesty,” Katrina says. “Except when you wear those tight tank tops and your titties be tittying.”
I frown. “They do?”
“Without your consent or knowledge, apparently,” Lex pipes in.
“Hm,” I say, and tug the dress down a bit. “Feel like maybe it’s doing too much for a listening party. No?”
“You can wear that one to brunch and everyone will think you’re the definition of perfect,” Kat tells me.
“It’s giving exactly what it’s supposed to give, no matter where you wear it,” Lex says. “And you will wear it sometime on the trip, even if it’s just to bed, or so help me I will make your working life at the shop miserable.”
“And how might you do that?” I ask.
“I’ll side with your mother during every single one of your petty arguments. Even when she’s wrong.”
Katrina’s loud laugh masks my quieter one.
I run a hand along my hip and admire my shape in the mirror. “Fine. I’ll bring it, but I need a few casual options just in case.”
“If Issac sees you in that dress, no way he’s going to want you to wear something casual,” Katrina says, and she wouldn’t recognize the face I make in the mirror. She doesn’t know how off she is. That Issac might think I look amazing, but he doesn’t see me like she thinks he does. “And you better send me and Lex pictures. I want one with every single celebrity. Sneaky videos too.”
“I’ll do my best,” I lie, “but no promises.”
Katrina opens up my underwear drawer and tosses some lace panties at me, a bright red bra I bought on sale a few months ago, and a few thongs I doubt I’ll ever get used to wearing. She even pulls out a two-piece white lingerie with crotchless panties, which probably doesn’t fit me anymore.
I snatch it from her. “What are you doing? Get out of that drawer.”
“We don’t know how long it’ll be before Issac decides he’s really not made for committed relationships, and is back to dating other women.”
“That’s fucking rude,” Lex hollers out.
Katrina shrugs, smiles at me. “I’m just saying, you have to bring some sexy stuff for your man while he’s still your man and not for the streets.”
For my pretend man. It almost slips from my mouth, but then Lex whistles and starts to fiddle with my suitcase zipper. Whatever sign of amusement forms on my face makes Katrina look at me wild. I shift, avoiding her prying eyes, and shove the sexy stuff deep in my luggage.
“I’m confused,” she says. “What was that face? Does Issac not enjoy you in some lingerie?”
“Oh, come on, Kat. We know our little lady here probably has boring sex,” Lex says, trying on a pair of my sunglasses before tucking them in his pocket. He looks proud of his own joke. I cut my eyes at him. Thief. Beautiful asshole. Yesterday, he asked why I wasn’t telling Katrina it was a fake relationship, then agreed that she doesn’t have the track record for keeping secrets. She loves hearing herself speak, he said. It never seems malicious or ill-intended, but this isn’t something I can trust she’d keep to herself. Still, now that we’re around Lex and he knows what she doesn’t, I feel a little guilty. But my justification goes like this: As soon as the shop is in the clear, I’ll tell her that Issac and I broke up. She’ll say she saw it coming, she won’t even be surprised, I’m a prophet, she’ll tease me for months. It’ll be annoying, but at least I won’t have to talk about a sex life that doesn’t exist.
“What goes on in my bed is my business,” I say.
“Uh-huh. I see.” Katrina slowly shakes her head. “So, it is boring. What a damn shame. With a man that fine? Girl, you have to spice it up. I know it’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship, but have fun while you have the chance.”
“I resent you for continuously insinuating that Issac and I won’t last,” I say. “But I’ll humor you. How do you suggest I spice things up?”
Kat takes my vibrator out of the drawer. I’m sure it’s collected dust and lint from lack of use.
“Why are you touching that?” I protest. “Do you know where it’s been?”
“Unless it’s been between your cheeks, then…”
“That’s enough,” Lex says, holding out a hand, “even for me.”
Katrina smiles and stuffs the vibrator in my suitcase. “Bring Freddie to help. Issac will be shocked and enjoy it. Believe me, it works every time.”
“Her name is Linda,” I correct with a smile, but inside I’m squirming, thinking of Issac and sex and a vibrator all in the same sentence. Thinking of what someone would do with Issac and a vibrator and thinking that someone is me in Katrina’s mind. All the thoughts make me feel like the biggest liar in the whole world. What if Issac’s friends ask him about me and our sex life? What will he say to them?
Katrina waves her hand at me. “She looks more like a Freddie; Linda is too cute of a name. Remind me to get you a new one for Christmas this year.”
I look to Lex for help, but he’s enjoying this interaction and knowing what’s hiding under it a little too much. “You really should bring it,” he says, hinting something unnecessarily at me. “Just in case you need to let out some…frustration.”
Why did I tell him about the sex dream yesterday?
“That’s a wild thought, Lex,” says Katrina. “They are definitely sexing on this trip, might be boring sex but I’m sure she won’t be—” She interrupts herself with a gasp, then takes my hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. “Don’t tell me he can’t make you cum. Is that the real reason he usually doesn’t make it past the first date?”
My insides twist. Heat finds my face. Lex leans his forehead against my wall to laugh, shoulders shaking. This is going to be the longest lie of my life.