Chapter 2
Natasha
“I’m telling you he’s cheating,” Bridget whines.
“Oh fuck, not this again,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair, my elbows resting on the table. “Just dump him already.”
“No, I need proof.”
“Why?” I scoff. “I’m over hearing about this wanker, it’s doing my head in.” I take my phone from my bag and check my messages, trying to block her out.
“Listen here, you.” She points her teaspoon at me to accentuate her point. “You listen to all kinds of crazy shit at work and you’re going to damn well listen to mine.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but I get paid for that and my patients actually respect my opinion and besides, you’re different. I can tell you what I think, and I think you should dump the prick.”
“So, you think he’s a prick now?”
“No, you think he’s a prick.”
“When did I say that?”
“When you said he was cheating on you.”
“Oh god, don’t start your shrink shit with me, you’re twisting my words.”
I roll my eyes. “Listen, if you don’t want my opinion, don’t ask for it.”
“Fine, I won’t.”
“Good, suits me.”
“What are you two arguing about?” Abbie joins us from the restroom.
“We are not arguing,” I moan.
“Yes, we are, Tash thinks Jeremy is a prick.”
Abbie laughs and nods. “Who doesn’t? Jeremy is a prick.”
We are at our favorite coffee shop, Oscar’s.
We meet there a couple of times a week. Oscar’s is small and unassuming.
Its walls are dark timber paneling with big green glass pendant lights hanging low over oversized chocolate leather lounges that have colored cushions scattered all over them.
Big wooden coffee tables adorn the center of each setting.
The clientele is eclectic, from normal girls like us to doctors and lawyers, punk rockers to gorgeous gay men.
Great coffee music always adds to the ambience and atmosphere, although on the last four or five times it hasn’t been as enjoyable as it normally is.
Abbie, Bridget’s and my best friend, and I have had to endure countless hours of Jeremy crap.
Bridget rummages through her bag. “Abbie, I bought you something.” She pulls out a white paper bag.
Abbie frowns. “What is it?”
Bridget smiles. “It’s a bumper sticker for your car.” She pulls it out and we all burst out laughing. It reads:
If you’re going to ride my ass,
can you at least pull my hair?
“That’s funny.” I can’t stop laughing.
“And you bought me this because?”
“Because you told me you like it when guys pull your hair.”
“When did I tell you that?”
“Oh, fuck off. Are you denying it?”
“No, yes, shut up, stop it.” She laughs.
“Show me a red-blooded woman who doesn’t like having her hair pulled.
” Bridget and I both look at each other sheepishly and raise our hands in unison.
She pulls a disgusted face. “God, you two must be shit in bed.” She rolls her eyes while we giggle.
“Anyway, I can’t put this on my car, my dad will freak.
” She shakes her head as she stuffs it in her bag.
“OK, back to the conversation. Once and for all tell me why you think he’s cheating. I want ten reasons.” I wave my teaspoon at her. “No excuses.”
“OK.” She nods. “We used to see each other every night but now he’s a partner in his law firm. I don’t see him much through the week.”
“OK, maybe he’s just working,” I answer.
“Maybe.” She nods. “The sex has dropped off.”
“By how much?”
“Well, it used to be three or four times a week and now it’s like once a week and usually I initiate it.”
“Maybe he’s tired and stressed.” Abbie pipes in.
“Bullshit.”
“Abbie, you can’t comment. Boyfriends are different to one-night stands,” I mutter.
“OK, agreed.” She nods.
I love Abbie, she’s a self-proclaimed sneaky slut.
By sneaky slut I mean when we are out and having a great time dancing and drinking, she just disappears.
Twenty minutes later we get a text telling us she’s gone home.
She has a few boys in her kitty as she calls it.
We know them as number one, first reserve, tall guy, hot guy, army guy and she has a tradie as well, although I don’t know what he does.
Number one always has right of way if he’s out.
Although I think army guy is rising through the ranks pretty quickly.
Bridget and I know them all by sight but, in all honesty, we have probably not spoken more than a dozen words to any of them. She likes it like this. We love her honesty and good for her if she can do it without guilt—why not? I could probably take a page out of her book and loosen the hell up.
“And,” Bridget continues, “he’s started to guard his phone.”
“Hmm, that’s not good,” We all silently sum up the situation.
“And get this, last week when I stayed at his house, I was looking in his drawer and he has bought all new underwear.”
“Yeah, but maybe he just needed new undies.”
“No, they were nice like nice nice, not everyday undies.” We stay silent and sip our coffee as we listen. I purse my lips as I think. “And then there’s the manscaping.”
Abbie chokes on her coffee. “Manscaping,” she blurts out.
“Yes, please stop laughing. This is not funny.”
I want to laugh myself but instead I frown at Abbie, hinting for her to shut up. My ability to keep a straight face when I hear ridiculousness is an added benefit of my job.
“Last time we were together I noticed he’s like….” She whispers and leans in to the table, and we both lean in instinctively to listen. “You know, done some extreme grooming.”
Abbie narrows her eyes. “Did you ask him what that is about?”
“Yes, when I first noticed it, he seemed embarrassed and then said he did it as a surprise for me.”
“Do you think it was?”
“No, I don’t. And, get this, he’s shaved off his chest hair.”
“God.” I breathe and sit back. “I hate manscaping.”
“Why?” Abbie pulls a disgusted face. “There’s nothing worse than a hairy guy.”
“You’re kidding,” I snap.
“Don’t tell me you like hairy guys?” She pulls a disgusted face.
I smile. “I do actually.” I nod to accentuate my point. “I like the difference in their body to ours. We are soft. They are hard. We are smooth. They are rough. You know, the whole yin and yang thing. It’s the differences that turn me on.”
“Ugh, all of the guys I’m with manscape and if they don’t I comment that I want them hairless before I see them again.”
Bridget and I are both shocked, our eyes wide.
“You actually say that?”
“Yes, of course, wouldn’t you?”
We both shake our heads. “No, god, no.”
“Girls, have I taught you nothing. Ask for what you want. Men are stupid. They will do what we ask.”
Bridget scrunches her nose up in disgust at Abbie.
“The guy I’m going out with is a lot of things.
He may be an adulterer and a prick, but stupid isn’t one of them, and Tash is so damn picky.
” They both turn their attention to me. “When was the last guy you were actually with?” Bridget glares at me.
“What’s with the Spanish inquisition?” I roll my eyes.
Abbie chimes in, “Yes, she’s right. Are you on the forty-hour man famine?”
I smile, “No one really gets me hot. All the guys I meet are just so…average.” I hunch my shoulders.
“Oh no.” Abbie scowls toward the counter.
“What?” I ask as I sip my coffee.
“It’s Tunnel Cunt.”
I can’t help it, I spit my coffee all over Bridget.
“Oh fuck, Tash, watch it.” She starts to wipe the coffee from her top as I am in a fit of giggles.
“Who in the hell is Tunnel Cunt?” Bridget laughs. “And how in hell did the poor girl get that god-awful name?”
“See that blonde at the counter?” We all lean in, “She’s an ex-stripper and she has her eyes on James.”
James is Abbie’s flatmate who she worships.
“How do you know she has a tunnel cunt? Actually, what is its definition?” Bridget and I are in fits of giggles.
“Shut up, you two.” Abbie scowls. “This isn’t funny.”
“How do you know she has the hots for James?”
“He told me.”
“Oh,” I answer as I nod.
“Does he like her?” Bridget asks as she continues to watch her.
“He said not, but I’m keeping my eyes on her just in case.”
We all nod. “Good idea,” I mutter. We all watch as TC, the new girl on our radar, passes our table.
“OK, anyway, where were we?”
“Oh, I know, and I don’t like to pick up someone random for the sake of it, you both know I’m not like that.”
Abbie shakes her head in disgust. “You’re missing out.
One day you are going to be forty-five, married and bored as hell and you’ll look back to these years and think I wish I had slept with all those hunks that were hot for me when I had the chance, and my body was smoking hot.
You know the well dries up and turns into cellulite. ”
I smile at her. “It’s OK, Abbs, I’m pretty sure you’re fucking enough for the three of us.”
She scrunches up her napkin and throws it at me and we all giggle.
“OK, back to you, Bridget. I think we need to set a trap.” I smile as I call the waitress over to order more coffees.
“Ohh, I do like your wicked mind,” she purrs.
“Now let me think.” As I rub my chin.
The movie screen plays a rerun.
“Natasha, make love to me. I need this connection with you.” His lips linger over mine tenderly. “It won’t hurt as much this time, baby. It’s getting easier, isn’t it?” His open mouth runs down the length of my neck.
Buzz. “Natasha, your ten o’clock is here.”
I rein in my now-pounding heart. “OK, thanks, Marg.” I buzz her.
What the hell. Christ, how can he still affect me this much after seven years apart?
I drop my glasses and put my face into my hands on my desk.
With my left hand I rub my face in disgust. I literally still have a physical effect from my memories of this man.
Why can’t I stop thinking about him? My heart rate, my breathing.
I’m wet for fuck’s sake. Good god! With disgust I head to the bathroom, shaking my head.