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“You’re no fun.” She pouts.
“I’m the funnest. Just ask Kingston.”
“I think he’d agree with me that you’re lame.” She laughs, and I roll my eyes, because she’s probably right.
“What’s the plan anyway?” I ask, hoping to get an idea of what I’m in for, since her and the girls have all been tight-lipped about this evening.
“All I’m telling you is Eli agreed to be our DD for the night, and he promised me that he’s not going to be a party pooper.” I raise a brow, because I know her boyfriend, and he most definitely is a party pooper. Not that he isn’t fun; he’s just a guy who’d rather sit at home, playing video games while drinking beer. He’s not a guy who’d willingly agree to drive around a group of drunk women all night.
“How’d you get him to agree to that?”
“I offered up BJs whenever he wanted one for a month. A guarantee he won’t let me down.” She grins, and I laugh as I start to clean up my station.
“That would do it.” I look over at her as she starts to set up for her next client. “What should I wear?”
“What you have on now is cute, so something similar,” she says, and I look down at my tank that is tucked into my ripped-up jeans and the heeled boots on my feet. At least I’ll be comfortable.
“All right.” I grab my purse from my drawer, then lift my coat off the hook on the wall. “I’m going to head home and clean, since my schedule is clear for the rest of the day and I didn’t feel up to doing it last night.”
“Okay, and I’ll see you tonight at seven.” She gives me a quick hug before going to greet her client when she walks in.
Stopping by the office, I let Polly know I’m taking off, then head out to my car.
I get home fifteen minutes later and scan the parking lot, hoping that by some twist of fate I’ll see Tucker again, then tell myself I’m not disappointed when I don’t. Logically, I know he’s the last man in the world I should have some weird fascination with, but even knowing that I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s the kind of guy you itch to figure out, to make smile, or to just give you something, because you know if he gives it to you, it’d be yours and only yours.
Annoyed with myself and my ridiculous train of thought, I sigh as I walk up the sidewalk. My steps slow when I see the girl who lives across from me standing under the awning between our apartments, with grocery bags at her feet and a frown on her face as she looks at her phone.
“Hey,” I greet as I approach, not wanting to startle her, and she lifts her head, her black-lined eyes meeting mine. “Is everything all right?
“Yeah, I’m just waiting for my dad to let me in. I forgot my key when I went out to get groceries, and he’s sleeping,” she mumbles, and I nod as I take my key out of my bag.
“I’m Miranda. I live across from you. We haven’t had a chance to meet yet.”
“I’ve seen you with your son. I’m Carrie.”
“It’s nice meeting you, Carrie,” I say gently, and she nods as she chews on her bottom lip. Going to my door, I put my key in my lock, then look back over at her. “Do you want to wait inside my place until your dad gets up?”
“Umm….” She looks from my door to me, then starts to shake her head. “No thanks. He should be up soon.”
“Okay, if you change your mind, just knock.” With another nod from her, I let myself into my apartment and lock the door behind myself. Walking right to my room, I strip out of my clothes and put on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then go to the kitchen. Since drinking will take place this evening and I’m a lightweight, I need to make sure I eat something. Otherwise, I’ll either end up dancing on a table or passing out under it before the night is over, and neither option sounds appealing.
After heating up some leftover spaghetti, I eat it standing in the kitchen with the TV on, because the quiet when I’m home alone is still something I’m not used to yet, and at this point, I don’t know if I ever will be. When I finish eating, I rinse my bowl and then go check the peephole for Carrie, and I’m relieved when I don’t see her still waiting outside.
Every time I’ve seen her, she’s looked a little lost, and remembering what it’s like to be a teenager, I feel for her. Those teen years are rough, especially when you’re trying to figure out where you fit in at school, at home, and in your own body. I wish I’d had someone tell me at her age that nothing is as important as it seems, but I doubt I would have listened, even if someone did. That’s a lesson we all tend to learn the hard way, sadly.
