Lex(25)

Honestly, I have no idea what I am spouting. I’m tired, hungry and I’ve got to drop by Arby’s on my way home to grab a bite to eat. An email to the hot Suit Master will just have to wait until tomorrow. My stomach is too angry with me.





Chapter Eight





Wednesday





“Good morning, Lex.” Roni greets as I walk into the kitchen, wearing a black cotton dress, my red heels and a chunky red rose pendant necklace.

With a puzzled look, I stop next to the breakfast table. “What in the hell did you do with my best friend? I want her back.”

Sitting before me is my vintage rose printed three-tier dessert stand overflowing with delicate pastries. Next to it sits two miniature white scalloped edged plates, my tea already served in a white cup with saucer and my best friends wearing a tighter fitting black t-shirt and jeans. Have I walked into the twilight zone or what? Maybe I need to go back to bed. Something isn’t right.

Chuckling she shakes her head and with her hand she gestures toward my morning seat. Slowly and unblinking, I glide into my extended chair and scoot forward, still staring at my best friend in complete disbelief.

“Don’t look at me that way.” She laughs, her face radiating a giant smile.

She has to be on some kind of drugs. This isn’t my Roni. My Roni is a bitch in the morning. She also wears baggy shirts and has bags under her eyes. This Roni has rosy tinted lip balm on and her pretty eyes are wide-awake and glimmering. What the heck?

“It’s hard not to. We’ve lived together for years and I can’t remember a time you’ve been this awake, this early, and wearing makeup and a half way acceptable shirt. I don’t know what I walked into. But I know I want my best friend back. If you’re some alien inhabiting her body, I don’t like it. Go back to wherever you came from. I don’t care if you came in peace.” I state pulling out all the stops with my attitude this morning.

“It’s only lip stuff.” She shrugs, popping her lips.

“Uh-huh, only lip stuff. Since when have you worn lip stuff? We own a cosmetics company and the only stuff you use is the bath products. Not the cosmetics.”

Rolling her eyes, she takes a sip of her tea. “Yeah, well, I figured buttering you up would be the only way to get you to say yes.”

Ah…and there it is. She did this because she wants something. Why couldn’t she just ask me straight out? I don’t want to change Roni, I love her the way she is — sassy. Just as she loves me, the way I am. Sure, my overly feminine ways have made her gag a time or two. But, we’re best friends and that’s what best friends do. Accept one another, even the things we don’t care for.

“Say yes to what?” I press my mug to my lips and grab a delightful white petit four from the bottom tier of the serving tray.

“On Friday, the Devil’s Den is having a May Day party. This is supposed to be the first time Bob and I go out as a couple. He’s meeting a few of his buddies there, and you’re my only best friend. I thought you could help a girl out and come drink with me and dance. You know you love to dance and haven’t gone in a long time.”

Okay, she’s laying it on thick. Desperation is clinging to her every word.

“May Day is Thursday, and if you recall, I don’t go dancing because my best friend doesn’t like it.” I remind her.

I couldn’t tell you how many times since we turned twenty-one, after I rid myself of Brian that I asked her to go out with me to dance. The Devil’s Den is the only place in town with an actual dance floor. It’s not huge, but the only other bar in Heartfair is called Sassy Lassie’s and it’s not a place I’d frequent, even on a bad day. It hosts a different type of crowd of bikers and drunks, mainly the darker crowd of the local scene, if you catch my drift.

“What if I promised I would let you dance around me? I won’t dance, but I’ll grab a table by the dance floor and pretend to dance? Does that work?”

She’s really grasping at straws.

Plucking another petit four and popping it on my mouth, I slowly chew it, and look at my ceiling; like I’m contemplating. I would have said yes right away. But making her sweat it out is much more fun.

“Well…” She’s growing impatient.

Stealing another one of the bite sized sugary goodness from the tray, I ask, “Where’d you get these?” To change the subject and irk her a little more, this is such a powerful position to be in.

Grinding her teeth and rubbing her finger up and down the side of her white mug, she stares at me. I’m surprised Sassy Britches has stayed calm for this long. She deserves a medal.