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I mentally slapped myself at that thought. Lolly and Calvin were the most together couple I’d ever met.
I inhaled a huge breath, let it out in one big gush, and plastered a smile on my face as I strode toward her.
Lolly saw me in the mirror ahead of her. “Jane! ’Bout time you got here, babe.” She didn’t need to break stride to speak to me.
At the pace she was running I wouldn’t be able to breathe, let alone speak. “Sorry?—”
“Don’t tell me . . . Needledick was late again.”
“Of course.” I hated Lolly’s nickname for my boss. Not that Needledick didn’t suit him—it just made me think of what he may have in his pants. And that made me want to vomit.
I peeled off my t-shirt, placed my water bottle in the cup holder, and climbed onto the treadmill. I elevated the deck, ramped the speed, and increased my pace.
By the look of the light sheen enhancing Lolita’s golden skin, she’d already been at this for some time. “Were you here early?”
“Yeah. Calvin offered to take the kids to school, so I thought I’d put in a few extra minutes.”
Crazy woman. Exercising would be the last thing I’d put extra time into. Not that I didn’t enjoy it once I got there, that was. Lolly made it easier. Somehow, she made the chore of exercising fun.
I found my rhythm, tensed my stomach muscles, pumped my arms in a synchronized swing, and tried to focus on nothing but the pounding of my feet.
“Oh, my God.” Lolly jumped to either side of the spinning deck and peered at me, open-mouthed.
“What?” I bulged my eyes at her.
She pointed a long pink fingernail at me. “You’re smiling.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You bloody were. Cough it up. What’s happened?”
I swear, the woman was a freak. “Can’t I smile anymore?”
“Not while you’re exercising. You’re usually bitching and whining.”
There was no point evading it. Lolly could read me like a large-print novel, but I couldn’t tell her here. I ramped my speed up higher and with a grin on my face, said, “I’ll tell you over coffee.”
Lolita hit the deck running at full pelt. “Hell, yes, you will.”
Lolly’s astonishing decision to cut out the floor-work in today’s exercise regime was a sure sign that our impending discussion over coffee was eating away at her. She drooled over gossip, salivating over one trivial snippet or another, usually involving the wives, lovers, and secrets of the people at her son’s soccer club or her daughter’s dance studio.
I swear if she hadn’t had children who were inclined to partake in such activities, Lolita would’ve forced them to do so anyway. Lolly thrived on the interaction and bitchiness that went on in those settings.
We sat at our usual round table out the front of Blue Haven Cafe, overlooking the path running parallel to the ocean shore. This position, somewhat segregated us from the rest of the diners, allowing Lolita to manage her obsessive people-watching and listen to me in private.
The waiter arrived and we placed our orders—green tea for Lolly, and a skinny cappuccino and slice of carrot cake for me.
Lolita adopted her customary frown at my choice of treat, and I flashed a whacky smile right back at her. It was our standard Tuesday morning ritual.
The second the waitress left us, Lolly plonked her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her palms. “You had sex, didn’t you?” A devious grin tickled her lips.
“No,” I said with the dubiousness it deserved and twisted my hands into knots beneath the table. Damn, this was like confessing my darkest sins to my mother.
Lolly threw her hands out. “What then? Come on, you’re killing me.”
I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t figure out how to say it.
“All right then.” I cringed; there was no easy way to put this into words. “Last Friday, New Year’s Day, I snuck into a man’s room and . . .” I searched my brain for the appropriate word, “masturbated in front of him.”
