sheath that revealed every single one of her Pilates-honed curves, shook her head. “Cinderella’s regressed back to rags.”
“Yeah, fairy tale’s over. Reality bites.”
Sometimes it was rough having an overabundance of brains and an underabundance of whatever it was that guys liked, she thought to herself. Everywhere she looked, the male eyes in the bar were glued to Cassandra’s parts.
A short time later two men in suits came over and began chatting with Cassandra and Beth, and Mickey wondered cynically who wore a suit on Saturday. Beth eventually broke free of the lesser suit and joined Mickey in the girls-gone-solo club, ordering chips and salsa for them both.
Beth fished in the basket for the biggest chip and wistfully studied it, shifting the golden triangle in the light. “It’s three points, but I’ve been starving myself all week. Tonight’s a celebration.”
“Oh, boy,” replied Mickey glumly, punching her chip in the picante. “Why’d you leave the potential life mate?”
“Too much cologne.”
“Yeah, I hate that,” Mickey replied, a little bit of snide in her tone, which covered the fact that she was envious as hell. Beth had never achieved envy-worthy status before. Out of all of them, Cassandra had the hot luck with the guys. Jess had the great family that understood how families were supposed to be. And now, she had the great new husband. As for Beth, Mickey had never spent much time being jealous of Beth.
Until now.
She crunched the chip with more force than necessary, a strong bite of jalapeño making her eyes water. Spitefully she swallowed the demon vegetable whole.
Mickey Coleman Cushing—jalapeño eater extraordinaire. Now there’s a talent.
She sighed. Now, see, this was the main problem with having a large ego. The falls from grace were light-years to the ground.
Covertly she studied Beth, who wasn’t as sexy as Cassandra, wasn’t as ambitious as Jessica, and wasn’t as smart as Mickey. Beth, who was completely happy with who she was.
“How do you manage to be so content with who you are?” asked Mickey.
Beth just grimaced. “I know you don’t think much of me…”
There were times Mickey didn’t think much of anyone; that’s what made her world such a lonely place. “That’s not true,” she said automatically, then popped a chip into her mouth.
“No, it’s okay. I know what you think and you’re wrong.”
Mickey stopped and swallowed, now more than slightly curious. “What do I think?”
“That I’m a weaker female destined to dilute the genetic line of females everywhere because I believe that man is necessary for the betterment of the species.”
It really did sound like something she would say. When had she gotten so bitter? Oh, yeah, she’d been born that way. “No, that’s not true. Exactly.”
“I think now is a good time for me to learn from you. You’re so focused and independent. You have your life together, and I feel so…needy. Maybe if we hang together, some of you will rub off on me? That is, if you want to.”
And here was Mickey, feeling all smug and superior, when her life was lower than a Jerry Springer show. She was being blackmailed. Because of sex. Sex which she hardly ever had. Oh, the irony. “If only you knew,” Mickey murmured.
“Knew what?” Beth asked, sipping at her wine.
“That focused, independent people whose lives are so together make some of the most nuclear mistakes in the world.”
“No!” Beth exclaimed, and such emphatic disbelief was almost refreshing. As if Mickey was not capable of mental burps. “What kind of mistakes?”
Now came the hard part. Admitting that she—who really considered her only true quality to be her brain—could do something so stupid. “Remember the bachelorette party the other night?”
Beth nodded.
“Remember how I disappeared?”
Again, the head nod.
Mickey took a long drink of alcohol. Even one-hundred proof couldn’t numb the embarrassment. “I can’t do this.”
Sensing imminent meltdown, Beth waved her hand. “Yes, yes, you can.”
Perhaps Mickey should keep her mouth shut. But she’d spent so much of her life needing to angst that silence was impossible. “Oh, all right. I’ve got to tell somebody. After I left the bar, I called up John, this intern at work—he looks all of thirteen—and asked if I could come over.”
“He’s not really thirteen, is he? I can see the headlines. Statutory Seduction: Physicist Charged In Boy-Toy Scandal.”
Mickey coughed as a straight shot of gin came back up her nose. “Oh, yes, that would look good. Thankfully, no, he’s a senior in college. But still…”
Beth nodded. “You know, that’s really very sexy right now. May, December. Woman in the dominant position. That’s not so bad.”
No, that wasn’t the bad part. Mickey took another long, brain-cell-killing dreg of the martini. “He videotaped me. Him. You know, when we were…”
There was no condemnation in Beth’s eyes, only a glow of admiration. “No joke? That’s so adventurous of you. I thought only Cassandra went down the red-light path.”
Adventurous? Yeah, that was one way of looking at it. “I didn’t know.” Mickey took another long drink. “Now he wants to do it again.”
Beth twirled her chip in the bowl of salsa, as if reading the future in the onions and tomatoes. “The taping or the sex?”
“The sex.”
“Just like Pamela Sue…” Then Beth looked up, and her eyes got huge. “Oh…and if you don’t, he’s going to put you on the Internet. Oh, man, I hope you don’t look fat.”
Mickey, who had never considered the fat aspect, shuddered in horror. “I’ve got an article to finish. I’m working the presentation for Heidelman. I’ll be the punch line in every joke for the next decade, playing into every stereotype that exists for the little woman.” She rammed her fist on the table, very un-little woman. “I’ve got to get that tape back.”
“Can you buy it from him?”
“No. I already offered. Stupid jerk.” She’d covered all possible aspects in order to salvage her career. Extortion, bribery, excessive pleading and murder. There was only one solution left. “I think I’m going to steal it,” she announced. It seemed better to state it confidently, as if she thought this could actually work.
“You could get caught,” replied Beth, pointing out the one elephantine flaw.
However, Mickey had already considered that. “That’s why I need a professional.” So Mickey wouldn’t get caught.
