Indebted:Part 1(3)

The line is silent. I check the phone. Is this call still connected? The timer is still counting. "Hello?"



"Yes, I'm still here. I apologize if this is a bit unorthodox, but this  is Matthew Blackwell. I left you a note at the diner today? I was  wearing a gray suit?"



He sounds like he isn't sure if I'll remember him from all the other  overdressed patrons. "Yes, I remember you. How did you get this number?"  I knew there was something strange about him asking me out, now he's  tracking me down?



"Brianna just called me and told me that you forgot the napkin and that I should call you. Is this a bad time?"



I should have thrown out that stupid napkin. Why is she pushing this so  hard? Now this is so awkward, I rub the back of my neck and rummage my  mind for a polite way to let him know there's been some kind of mistake.



"I'm not interested in going on a date, Mr. Blackwell, she shouldn't have called you." So much for tact.



"Well then, let's not call it a date. How about we have a meeting of the  minds over some delicious food?" He doesn't sound the least bit phased  by my rejection, just steamrolling forward.



"I'm sorry, but I have to finish some important work for my masters  program. I couldn't possibly find the time for a ‘meeting of the  minds'." I try not to choke on the pretentious sounding statement.



"What is your degree in?" He's persistent, I'll give him that.



"Business."



"Business, hmmm, don't they tell you that contacts and networking are an  important part of the job? I'll tell you what, I have a fundraiser  that's will be a real who's who in the business world. You'd be missing  the opportunity of a lifetime if you didn't go." I'm not sure if he's  talking about him or the contacts.



He's zoned in on my weakness. Of course, I'm interested in making  contacts. I'm eager to get my feet wet in a real career, but at what  cost? What is he expecting out of this date? And why is he so insistent?  I rub my forehead, trying to make a decision, the right decision.



"Ok," I finally answer him.



"Wonderful! How does tomorrow evening work for you?"



Tomorrow! How am I supposed to get ready for a fancy charity event with  no notice? "Yes, that will work," I squeak, not sure how I'll find  anything to wear. "Where should I meet you?"



He chuckles dryly, "There won't be any need to meet me. I'll have my driver pick you up at say five o'clock?"



I hesitate again, do I really want him to have my address? In for a  penny, in for a pound I guess. "Sure, do you want to write down my  address?"



"No need." I can hear the smile in his voice."Brianna already gave it to me."



Of course she did.





Chapter 2: The Dress



"Why did I say yes? Why did you call him? What the hell am I gonna wear?"



"Take a breath. I've got plenty of cute clothes, what we really need to  work on is this hair," Brianna soothes me while pawing at my frizzy,  black puffball of hair.



"Can you make mine look like yours?" I know that I'm asking for a lot, but her hair is so stunning.



"Are you kidding me? Do you know how much I set aside for a Keratin  treatment every month? There's no way. Besides, Mr. Hottie-McMoney  didn't ask you out because of your hair …  obviously." She plucks up a  strand like it's a dirty gym sock. "Nah, just need a good straightener  and a ton of conditioning. First, let's pick out something to wear."         

     



 



Her wardrobe is less than ten steps from the front door of her tiny  bachelorette pad. I didn't even know they made apartments this small,  but then again, Brianna has the whole place to herself. I would gladly  sacrifice my bedroom to the New York rent-gods in exchange for some  privacy. Not that Brianna spent much time alone in her place.



She flings opens the door, and the brilliant shine of her skintight  clothes blinds me. I start shaking my head in protest. "Oh relax will  ya? I know you can't handle any of my sexy dresses. You gotta own it if  you wear something like this." She pulls a scandalously short, siren red  dress with triangle cut-outs surrounding the breasts. "I got something  more your style back here." She starts rummaging through her overstuffed  closet.



How does she know where anything is in that thing? She heaves the crazy  amount of clothes sideways, grunting like a meathead at the gym,  straining to reach the back. I watch her pat her hand around in behind  the sequined tank tops and jeans encrusted with fake jewels blindly  searching for her mystery dress.



"I know it's here …  just a little …  AHA! Gotcha!"



She slips an elegant, black chiffon cocktail dress with a hint of silver  pinstripes through the crushing wall of clothes and dangles it in front  of my face with a triumphant smile. I smooth the dress down in front of  me holding it against me like a paper doll. I can see that it will come  to just above my knee. The beautiful, heart-shaped bodice plunges lower  that I'd like, but the ribbon-belted waist makes it look classy and  feminine.



"I've never seen you dress like this, it looks expensive. Where did you  get it?" I trace my finger over the delicate dress, longing to see what  it looks like on.



"I didn't buy it. It's a bridesmaid dress to the fanciest wedding I ever  went to. It's not like I can dance at the club in it, but I couldn't  chuck it. I'm glad I didn't, cause it's perfect for tonight."



"It sure beats that purple cotton dress I set out."



"You gotta burn that thing! I can't believe you were going to go in that drab dishrag."



"Ouch, that's my nicest dress!"



"Then burn ‘em all." She laughs.



"Alright, no need to hate on my clothes." I smile at her. "We can't all dress like rock stars."



"Then why get out of bed in the morning?" Brianna teases, "Anyway, we  need to work on this hair. I'm not letting you go on your first date  since …  wait, I can't think of any dates you've gone on!"



"I've gone on dates before. Remember Bernie?"



"Oh my god, that so doesn't count! Your prom date? That was high  school!" She sounds like I've broken a small part of her brain with this  revelation.



"It does so count. And besides, I don't have time for dating. I'm busy with school and work."



"It doesn't count unless you got laid."



I don't want to talk about this right now, I know she thinks I'm an  old-fashioned prude for maintaining my virginity. I've heard it all  before. In her world, there's no heavier albatross to bear than not  having guys fall all over themselves to fall all over her. "Let's just  get my hair under control, please?"



Luckily, she drops it and goes back to scrunching her nose up at my  frizzy mess of hair. "Yeah, ok. I'm gonna go get the apple cider vinegar  and Castor oil. We'll wash it in my kitchen sink. Grab a chair and pull  it over."



I don't even want to know what's in store for me. I just drag one of her plastic Ikea stools over and plop down.



"You know, it's funny how different we are," she calls from the  bathroom. "You're like some kind of nun or saint or something. I just  couldn't live like that."



So much for avoiding the conversation. "I'm not a nun, I just want to make sure it's with the right guy at the right time."



"I couldn't do it, you don't know what you're missing." She walks up  beside me with a bunch of bottles in her arms. "Lean back over the  sink." She starts massaging the apple cider vinegar into my scalp as she  goes on, "Like, the last time I went out I picked up not one, but two  guys and brought them home to fuck."         

     



 



"At the same time?" Even for Brianna that seems racy.



"Yep, mmmm, it was incredible. Two sets of hands running over me, two tongues tasting me, two cocks … "



"Brianna!" She laughs at my shock. The truth is, she isn't wrong, I am  kind of a prude. Well, that's not true. It's not like I don't think  about sex, I definitely do. It's just that I'm not one to just treat it  as casually as a handshake. I envy Brianna, being so free and  comfortable with who she is.



"Alright, alright! I won't go there, but if you ever decide to start  having fun, all I'll say is you can't go wrong with two men at the same  time."



"I'll keep that in mind."





Three hours later, Brianna is finally finished. She's just pulling a  hair straightener through the last few strands. I go take a look in the  mirror, letting out a low whistle. "Wow, it looks amazing. Almost makes  all that time worth it," I tease her. It's so shiny and perfectly  straight that I have a hard time prying my eyes off my reflection.



"Seriously, how do you grow up not knowing how to style your hair?"