Chapter 12 #2
‘Yeah,’ Ash agrees, patting his shoulder and climbing off him. ‘It was.’
The next morning Ash meets Mona at Querido for breakfast, both women having news with which to update the other.
‘He shagged me like a prisoner on day release, Ash,’ Mona says, stirring a sweetener into her meia de leite.
She’d wanted an iced latte, but the guy behind the counter had explained that in Portugal asking for an iced coffee was apparently tantamount to shitting over the entire coffee industry.
As an American, he said, he thought this was insane, but as an honorary Português, his hands were tied.
Mona said she’d never heard of such stupidity, but fine, she’d take a milky coffee that was hot, but not too hot.
‘Who knew an old broad like me could end up in bed with a young whippersnapper like that!’ she adds, stirring and stirring, distracted by the memory. ‘I felt like Christine Baranski in Mamma Mia!, except instead of asking if his mamma knows, I said fuck it, your place or mine.’
‘I’m so proud!’ says Ash, her own shagged-until-sunrise glow meaning that she’s skipped her usual make-up routine this morning and is existing in the world with only a slick of mascara and a little lip gloss, like a Hollywood starlet in a gushing magazine feature.
Bare-faced and exuding the kind of glow that does not come out of a bottle …
her interview might begin. She sits at the outdoor café with her herbal tea, classic navy cardigan hanging nonchalantly over her sun-kissed shoulders …
‘I’m proud of me, Ash!’ Mona says. ‘I had no idea what was on offer out there. I don’t even know what possessed me, to be honest, except an appetite for imagining my ex-husband, balls deep in baby sick and bottles, knowing that I’m out here having the youth I never got to have the first time around. ’
‘Here’s to that,’ Ash says, raising her tea to click a cheers with her new friend. ‘Revenge shagging can be the best shagging, and I won’t hear it said otherwise.’
She thinks of last night. She has so far declined the invitation from her psyche to examine the discussion of CJ during sex, but the tiny voice in her head reminds her what a turn-on it was.
It was a kind of revenge sex she had, if revenge over CJ counts.
CJ must be actually unwell, commenting to her like she did that it was game on with Luis.
Ash didn’t even mention it to the man in question, though. It wasn’t worth it. CJ isn’t worth it.
As if Ash had conjured the woman herself, CJ suddenly traverses the corner and heads straight towards the café Ash is sat at.
Her stomach flips over itself, and Ash can feel herself colour up, crimson as a cardinal – apparently, her body feels like she did something worth being shy about last night.
Which, OK, yeah, getting off on the idea of CJ going down on her was unexpected and, in the cold light of day, largely weird.
She can admit that. But to blush could be to give the game away, and if there’s anything Ash wants less than to be in a tangled fuckfest love triangle with CJ, it’s to be in a tangled fuckfest love triangle with a CJ who also suspects Ash has thought about her in her underwear.
Dammit. CJ is looking right at her – there’s nowhere to hide.
‘Morning,’ CJ says, not quite smiling. She sails past Ash and Mona without waiting for any kind of salutation in return, so as Ash squeaks, ‘Morning,’ it is to CJ’s behind.
Mona hasn’t noticed, excited as she is to share the gory details of her hook-up with a 33-year-old, Ash getting length, girth and stamina stats as she tries not to make it obvious she’s looking at CJ through the big glass window.
CJ seems to know the man behind the counter quite well, she’s chatting away ten to the dozen and the guy is laughing, which is interesting: is CJ capable of actually being funny?
She’s in gym clothes: dark green Lycra cycling shorts that barely cover her arse, and a sports bra that peeks out through the sides of a baggy-armed muscle T-shirt.
Is the woman not capable of wearing a T-shirt with regular armholes?
She’s got a baseball cap on backwards, no make-up, is tapping her fingers on the counter as she talks, all perfect white teeth and voluptuous full lips.
‘So what do you think, doll, do you fancy it? I promise we won’t drink as much as we did at that restaurant – I needed a day in bed after that. Ash?’
Ash turns to Mona at the sound of her name.
‘Huh?’ she says. ‘Sorry. I was distracted by the pastel de nata. Do you want one?’ She gestures inside, where CJ is drinking espresso from a tiny white cup.
‘No, love,’ Mona says. ‘I’m liquids only until noon. Keeps me in tip-top shape. You go ahead, though.’
Ash shakes her head, CJ waving goodbye to her friend at the coffee shop and heading back their way. ‘I’m OK,’ Ash says, quickly. ‘I don’t even really like them, actually.’
Mona frowns. CJ sails past. ‘Are you OK, doll?’ she asks, and CJ doesn’t address Ash this time, she just struts on by and Ash watches her go. ‘You seem … distracted? This fella of yours got you in a daze? Because I can relate.’
Ash drags her gaze from CJ’s behind, the heavenly roundness of her butt, the unfair sleekness of her skin. ‘Must be that,’ she says, forcing herself to smile.
She really likes Mona, is pleased they’re meeting up again, happy to have a pal outside of CoLab.
CJ can’t mess that up for her too, stealing her attention, her focus.
For the second time, too! She was bloody there at the restaurant that day as well!
CJ is haunting her, like an angry ghost of Christmas past, except CJ is more like the unhinged ghost of Lisbon present.
Ash gives herself a stern talking-to. She can’t let CJ get to her like this. It is honestly beyond reason.
‘Shall we get out of here?’ she asks Mona. ‘Go do something? Go and find trouble? I need to move, you know? Walk around, be inspired.’
‘All righty, then,’ says Mona, tapping her palm on the table like passing a motion in a particularly tense vote. ‘Sold. Let’s do this. Keep an eye out for any more thirty-three-year-olds who look like they might be able to keep up.’
Ash collects her things and they head off without a backward glance – a feat Ash considers a victory when she could have looked over her shoulder to double-check CJ is really gone. Not that she wanted to or anything. Whatever.
‘You know,’ Mona says, as they walk. ‘I can see how happy Luis makes you, but if you’re after some unsolicited advice from a broad who has been around as long as I have …’
‘And who doesn’t love unsolicited advice?’ Ash teases.
‘Exactly.’
‘Go on, then.’
‘Just keep your options open, is all,’ Mona counsels.
Ash raises an eyebrow and gives her a look. ‘Spoken like a cougar on the hunt for her next meal,’ she says. Then she adds, for clarity. ‘A compliment.’
‘I appreciate we’re at different life stages. I’m in my little whore era, and you’re looking to go trad wife, which I respect. I was a trad wife once, and I enjoyed it. It gave me purpose, to look after somebody else, to be responsible for our home, our life together.’
‘But …’ says Ash.
They’re arm in arm, two women with no particular direction agreed upon. They’re just moseying.
‘I just have a feeling,’ Mona says.
‘Is it a potential UTI?’
‘Your jokes need work.’
‘Upsettingly true,’ Ash laughs. ‘I will work on them.’
‘You’re using humour as an avoidance device,’ Mona says.
‘Which is fine, show me a strong woman who does not use humour as deflection in emotional conversations. But I will lament this, regardless, because I can, because I feel it is my duty: Luis sounds wonderful, my darling, and I am incredibly happy for you to be having a wonderful time. But the mess with this CJ … I have a feeling, like I say. I wish I’d learned to listen more to my intuition a long time ago, to be honest. Or.
Well, I think I’ve always listened to her, I’ve just always ignored her when she wasn’t convenient, too.
’ Mona sighs, stands still, forcing Ash to stop alongside her.
‘It’s too early to think about the wedding,’ she settles on.
‘Not because he doesn’t sound wonderful.
But I can’t help thinking you might have even more wonder to come.
I’d hate for you to close the door on it because you’ve already hitched your wagon to his star, bright as it might be. ’
‘A star better than Luis?’ Ash asks. ‘Really?’
‘An old woman can sense such things,’ Mona says. ‘But it’s up to you whether you listen.’