“No, it took me long enough to get over her. You know she has a boyfriend now, anyway.”
Emily scoffed, “That didn’t stop her sleeping with you though, did it?”
“That’s old news.”
“Ash, it was literally threeweeks ago.”
Ashley held her hands up, surrendering to the onslaught from which she would never emerge victorious. When it came to Georgina, there was always an excuse.
“That wasa mistake.”
“A mistake you will no doubt make again if you don’t cut her fromyour life.”
“I wish it was that easy. We have a lot of history.” Ashley waved her phone at her friends. “What am I supposed to say to that?”
“Tell her it’s none of her business.”
“I agree,” Madison held up her hand, signalling the bill, “she needs to know she doesn’t have that hold over you anymore.”
“That’s nasty though, right? She said she wanted to be friends. I don’t wantto be mean.”
“Ash, she literally ripped out your heart and stomped on it time and time again. If she really wanted to be friends, she wouldn’t have slept with you three weeks ago. She is literallythe devil.”
Emily removed the black square-framed sunglasses from her head. “I second that.”
“Okay, I’ll ignore it. I don’t needthe drama.”
“Good.”
Ashley knew unequivocally that she would not ignore the message. She would try, but the reality was, Georgina still had a hold over her. The thought pained her and made her feel utterly weak and powerless, but it was the truth. Georgina Clark was Ashley’skryptonite.
They met through a mutual friend at the bar Ashley and Madison worked. They dated for almost a year, but throughout that year, Ashley found herself second best to everyone else. She fell hard, a slave to Georgina’s charismatic nature. There were times when she thought it would work. When they were alone, she was made to feel like the most important person in the room, but in reality, she was a distraction, just another tick in an imaginary box, a list entitled ‘The Tales in the Life of Georgina Clark’. That’s what she came to realise when the fog faded and the clarity from her friends rang true. She was simply an experiment. When she found out that Georgina had also been sleeping with Travis—the guy she claimed was her‘best friend’—that was the icingon the cake.
The brave face she portrayed in front of her friends in recent months was just that, a brave face. A lie that would keep things ticking along until one day she could truthfully say‘I don’t love her’,and mean it. These things were easier said than done. Ashley still woke up most mornings to a text from Georgina. She became exclusive with Travis two weeks after they’d ended for good. That was two months ago. Since then, they had slept together a total of eight times—she had become her dirty little secret, a title she wasn’t proud of. Emily and Madison were not aware of the eight times. She had tried to hide the majority of them, embarrassed and ashamed that she was still holding on to someone that hurt her so deeply. She settled for telling them part of the truth in the hope that they wouldn’t uncover the reality. In the back of her mind, she knew there would come a day when the name Georgina Clark wouldn’t feel like a kick to the stomach. The challenge being, she wasn’t sure when.
***
Ashley pointed towards the group of ten middle-aged men gathered around the petite 4-seater table. Upon entering, Ashley purposefully sat them furthest away from the bar. The jerseys they wore solidified the fact that they had come from the Knicks vs Nets game, a fixture on the calendar that meant most bars in Manhattan were in for an eventful night.
“They are keeping me busy tonight.”
“How are the tips?” Madison asked.
Ashley opened the zip on her black money belt revealing a bundle of bills stuffed inside. “Worth the hassle.” Ashley grinned.
“Nicely done. Looks like food is on you tonight.” She slapped Ashley’s butt, “I’ll do the glasscollection.”
They would often work the same shift, which included almost every Friday and Saturday. The end of the night ritual had never changed, whoever earned the most in tips bought food on the way home. Delving into a large pizza at two o’clock on a Saturday morning was the highlight of their weekend.
Ashley worked her way down the dark wooden bar top; all twenty stools were taken. A sight that would panic some bartenders, but Ashley was one of the best. It had taken her less than six months to master the role—mixing beverages was now her speciality. Often, the patrons’ orders were aimed directly at her for personal recommendations.
“What can I get for you?”
“Three of your best house cocktails,” slurred the woman in the skin-tight red dress.
“Do you have a preferencein spirit?”
“No,you choose.”
