Chapter 26
LOREN
MEG
When you get here, just know I didn’t have a choice
“Who’s ready to—” I was about to say bowl, but the woman standing next to Meg at the rental counter stole the words right out of my mouth.
What the heck is Rebecca doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see her, but I also need her to like me, and I tend to overshare when drinking.
Not the best idea when you’ve been accidentally sleeping with your boss’s boyfriend.
I could just not drink but to be honest, the whole reason I’m here is for the one-dollar beers and chats.
“Hey, Loren.” Meg sweeps past Rebecca, clutching her rental shoes under her arm.
As if she can hear me silently freaking out, she quickly adds, “Rebecca and I ran into each other after work and started talking, then our Wednesday-night ritual came up and I asked if she’d like to join us for bowling. ”
Something in her tone tells me there’s more, but I’ll have to wait to hear it because Rebecca is coming up to us with a pair of shoes dangling from her hands “Hey, Loren. I hope you don’t mind me crashing your party.”
“Not at all.” Looks like Harry Great Pipes is going dry this evening. Probably for the best, considering the last few weeks I’ve put down. “Did Meg explain the rules?”
“The rules for bowling?”
“No. For girl’s night. First four frames are for bitching. After that, we’re only allowed to be positive so we end the night on a high.”
Rebecca nods. “I think I can handle that. Any other rules?”
“Nope.”
Rebecca tugs the hem of Meg’s shirt, where its half tucked into her skirt. “These are so cute.”
“I bet Loren still has them in her car if you want one.”
I do have them in my car, but that’s not the point. This is our night to bitch and moan and if our boss is here, we can’t do that. It’s fine that Rebecca showed up tonight, but if she has a shirt, she’s liable to take that as an invitation to come every Wednesday.
I like Rebecca so much, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to be her friend with everything that’s happened.
“Really? I would love one. Thank you.”
Looks like what I want doesn’t matter in this situation. Maybe we can bowl on Wednesdays as like, a team-building exercise and get drunk in secret on Thursdays instead? “Glenn or Ash? Those are the names we have left.”
“Let’s go with Glenn.”
“Perfect. I’ll be right back.” I run out to my car, take a moment to mentally shout at the heavens for cursing me, and then retrieve Glenn from beneath the mountain of takeout containers in my backseat.
Back inside, Rebecca looks so overjoyed when I hand her the old bowling shirt that I feel guilty all over again.
“This is so great.” She glances around the alley. “The bathroom is…?”
“On the other side of the snack bar,” Meg says with a tilt of her head.
We both wear matching smiles as our boss heads that way.
Meg falls down on the chair behind the screen with a groan. “I think I tweaked my hamstring at the gym.”
Rebecca vanishes into the bathroom.
“Are you insane?” I hiss.
“I’m sorry!” She throws up her hands, her shoes tumbling to the floor. “I didn’t know what else to do. She was crying, Loren. Crying!”
“Really? Why?”
“I’ll give you one guess.”
“Ratbag.”
“Exactly. Look, I know it’s super weird, but I feel like she could use a friend, and I didn’t want to leave either of you hanging. This is what bowling at The Alley is all about.”
She’s right. If I just keep my cool there won’t be an issue. Everything will be fine.
“Three of you tonight, ladies?” Sally asks, three cans on her tray.
Afraid so. “We brought a friend.”
“Happy to hear it.” Sally leaves us to mosey over to the rental counter so she can flirt with Dave.
With her shoes on, Meg takes over computer duties. “We need a nickname for Rebecca.”
Yeah, we wouldn’t want to make her feel left out, especially if she’s already down in the dumps. Let’s see…. “I have the perfect one.”
Rebecca James has done the impossible: made an old man’s bowling shirt look like it belongs on a runway. The way she tied the front so that the hem hits at the smallest part of her waist is the work of a fashion genius.
“I hate and love her so much.” Mostly, I want to be her.
Minus the jerky boyfriend, that is. Or ex-boyfriend hopefully.
“Same, girl. Same.”
Rebecca places her shirt and purse down on the chair at the end where I dumped my own things. Her perfect white teeth flash when she grins up at the screen. “Let me guess. Meglodon?” She nudges Meg’s shoulder, then turns to me. “And you must be Great Pipes.”
“That’s me.”
“I guess that makes me Jessica Rabbit?” She laughs. “I’m flattered.”
Meg kicks her heels onto the corner of the computer table. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Rabbit.”
Rebecca rubs her hands together, selects a ball, and says, “Here goes nothing.”
Turns out, Rebecca James is good at everything, bowling included.
What is it like to be God’s favorite?
If only I knew.
I’m bowling better than I ever have but it still doesn’t compare to my boss, who is on her way to triple digits.
She returns from her latest frame wearing the biggest smile. She always seems pleasant at work but never so exuberant.
If only I felt the same.
Meg disappeared on us about five minutes ago, chatting to the old timers in lane eight, so it’s only me, this too-hard plastic chair, the low hum of an old Willie Nelson song crackling through tinny speakers, and beautiful, perfect Rebecca.
I need a buffer so I don’t accidentally blurt out the truth that’s swirling through my mind.
But Meg doesn’t look like she’s coming back any time soon, so it’s just me and Rebecca, and now she’s smiling at me and asking if everything’s okay, and I need to respond but make sure I direct the conversation away from dating or boyfriends…
You can do this. Be calm and cool. Breathe.
Give the woman a compliment.
“You have the most amazing shoes.”
Rebecca huffs a startled laugh, pushing back the strawberry strands that fall across her perfectly contoured cheekbones. I bet she’s like Meg and wakes up perfect. “Thanks. Shoes are my obsession.”
“Mine too!” Okay, I did not mean to shout.
Turns out Rebecca and I have a lot more in common than I thought.
Yeah, like men.
Damn brain. Why can’t you switch off for one freaking minute?”
“Really?” she says.
Well, they would be my obsession if I could afford them. I have a whole Pinterest board of pairs I’d love to buy. Once my finances are secure, I’m going to make that dream a reality. “Oh, yeah. Someday, I want an entire room just for my shoes.”
She drops onto the chair across from me, her nails trilling against the can clutched between her hands. “I have one of those!”
“Shut up. No way.”
“Well, it’s technically the guest bedroom, but no one ever comes over, so my shoes moved in.”
Too bad I couldn’t move in. I bet her heating works all the time and there isn’t mold in her bathroom. Imagine how awkward it would be when Josh came over. Ratbag.
Meg finally returns to rescue me, thank goodness. “Sorry. Mo was so excited when he heard I was looking for a house. Says he knows just the place that would be perfect for me, but it’s not on the market yet.”
“That sounds like the start of a horror movie.” I would know. After that night of forcing myself to watch clips, all my ads since are for slasher flicks.
Rebecca shoves her hair back from her face, no longer smiling. “I’ll give you a horror movie. One day you’re happy, the next, the guy you’ve been dating since college cheats on you.”
Oh no. Oh god. Why can’t we be on the fifth frame so all the negativity can go away?
Meg, bless her heart, intervenes so I don’t have to. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” She presses a hand to Rebecca’s shoulder.
“Not as sorry as me. This isn’t the first time, either. Back in college he slept with one of my sorority sisters. I feel like such an idiot for forgiving him.”
“You’re not an idiot. He is.” That, I can say with absolute certainty. Joshua lying-cheating-ratbag is the biggest idiot/jerk/asshole I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.
“I don’t know how he does it. Every time I think we’re done, he finds some way to wheedle back into my life. Not this time, though. This time, he’s dead to me.”
I raise my previously untouched beer into the air for a much-needed toast. “Glenn doesn’t need a man.”
Rebecca chuckles, tapping her aluminum can against mine. “Hell no, she doesn’t.”
Meg adds her can as well. “To Erwin, Glenn, and Harry. Three strong, independent women.”
Meg was right. Rebecca did need this.
And maybe I did too.