pulled a pad of paper towards her and began to write. She mumbled, “I’ve got to order more salmon. We have enough pork and chicken. I’ve got to order some filet mignon. Fresh vegetables. We have enough. Canned goods are fine. Then there’s the dairy. The espresso and regular coffee are low—”
“Go!” he said as he pulled her away from the desk and pointed to the door.
“Just a minute,” she said as she held up her index finger, turned back to the desk and reached for a letter, “The electricity bill—”
“Go! I’ll do the ordering, Barbara. I can do that.” He sat, opened the top, smaller drawer of the desk and leaned inside.
As she watched him once again refreshing his shaky memory of the computer’s password, she shook her head in wonder at her intelligent boss who couldn’t remember a few numbers or letters. She pressed both hands into the small of her back and stretched but otherwise didn’t move. She held up her cup of cold coffee. “I’ll just warm this up and come back.”
He rose, stepped around the desk and pushed her toward the door. “Want me to lock the door? I don’t want to see you for at least thirty minutes.” And as she went out into the hallway, he shook his head. His lips pressed together as he wrestled with himself and looked once more at the computer. Finally, he nodded emphatically, lifted the phone receiver and began dialing.
Chapter 6
As usual Carol sneaked in a half hour late. She stored her large Coach knock-off behind the bar in the lounge and looked up sheepishly as Barbara, her perfectly sleek, mahogany hair shimmering halfway down her back, came out of the office. She attempted to smooth down her own cloud of curly blond hair and she rubbed at her arms. “It’s so cold in—“ She took in her friend’s disheveled appearance, “You look like shit. You don’t even match.”
Barbara idly touched the swollen pads under her eyes. “Well, morning to you, too.”
“I’m sorry, Barb.” She held her index finger up and hurried to the bar. She rummaged in her purse and drew out a compact of rose blusher and a tube of light pink lipstick. “Here, I know they’re not your colors but they’re better than nothing.” She handed them to her and examined her friend’s face more closely. She ushered Barbara to a bar stool and sat on its neighbor. “At least now we know that two Cosmo’s and a glass of white wine are your limit.”
“Most women’s limit.”
Carol ignored her but widened her eyes and asked eagerly, “So afterwards… Did you go home with him?”
“Him, who?”
Her friend rolled her eyes, “Your yummy date!”
Not liking what she saw in the mirror, Barbara blotted the frosted lipstick with a cocktail napkin. “No, at least I don’t think so. Oh God, I hope not.”
“If I had had a key to your place I could have helped you to your bed. Instead, he must have,” she raised and lowered her eyebrows.
Barbara’s eyes concentrated and then widened, “No, he couldn’t have!”
Carol suggested with a wink, “Maybe he was a little, just a little, honorable.”
“I couldn’t be that lucky, Carol. Well, just in case my next blind date is a less honorable man…I’ll get you that key.” The night before was gradually becoming clear. “And I think he—”
“Carl…”
“Carl…that guy…was far from yummy. I keep remembering a honker of a nose.” She concentrated on remembering more. “He kept speaking in a hushed tone to that Nick-guy. He even turned his chair toward him.” She wrinkled her nose. “He had those plugs in his scalp – they were so noticeable. And even though he was slim everywhere else, he had that ridiculous, squishy paunch – it was like a partially deflated balloon. I don’t know why you asked him. Even Nick would have been better.”
“He’s the best friend of my cousin’s ex-roommate’s brother.”
Barbara looked heavenward as she concentrated. “Oh I see, a very close friend of yours.” Carol gave her a short laugh but her friend put a hand on one hip and scowled, “And ever notice that to you every guy’s yummy?” She slid off the stool and poured herself some strong, but now burned, coffee, wrinkled her nose at the smell and offered it to her friend who refused the cup. “Sometimes I wonder why we’re such good friends.”
Carol sat still and looked shocked, “If I weren’t in such an excellent mood, I’d be pretty upset with you for saying that.” She attempted to smooth down her hair, went behind the bar and picked up a clipboard to take an inventory of the bottles of liquor. She was usually at the maître d’s station but she helped out the three bartenders when any one of them was ill. With her back to Barbara, she said, “We’re friends because between you and me, we don’t let any guys fall through the cracks.” She shrugged, stowed the clipboard under the computer, turned around and poured some sludge in her cup, adding eight sugar cubes.
“So that’s the way you see it?”
As she nodded, Carol’s blond hair bounced up and down and her spoon clinked as she stirred until her friend began to feel her headache sneak back in. Her friend said simply, “Yeah, you’re gorgeous.” Barbara rolled her eyes at the compliment that she doubted was true. “You attract them and I get to reel some of them in. Great partnership, don’t you think?”
“So, I’m just the eye candy?” Barbara placed the back of her hand to her forehead and said melodramatically, “I feel so used.”
Her friend pantomimed playing Barbara’s swan song on a tiny violin.
Barbara returned the blusher and the atrocious shade of lipstick to her friend who leaned forward and ran her tongue over her bottom lip as she appraised her friend’s looks. “At least you look a little more human.”
Chapter 7
Barbara chuckled, “Well, thanks again.” She took one last gulp of coffee and wrinkled her nose. “It always amazes me how much alcohol you can drink without a smidgeon of a hangover the next day.”
“The secret is having something rich in your belly before the gush of alcohol. Of course, you wouldn’t know ‘cause you always want to save your calories for the tasty dinner salad you usually order. “ Her eyebrows lifted. “But I’m surprised. This time you actually ordered something to weigh down those lettuce leaves. That salmon was—”
“That reminds me: Who’s the big fish this time? It’s not Nick, is it?”
Carol shivered. “God no! The one I was talking to all night. Duh! You were that wasted? Anyways, he doesn’t look like it but he’s delicious.”
“Taken a bite yet?”
Carol punched her. “Well, of course, silly!” She whispered, “I think he’s the one. His name’s John. He’s in some kind of business. Oh… Well, something.”
“Something. I can’t wait to meet the lucky hunk who stole my man-hungry girlfriend’s heart and isn’t Nick or Carl and is in some kind of business.”
Carol’s
