“I really wish you’d leave. I’m not in the mood for your mouth today...”
Pretending she didn’t hear her, Sharleen returned to the stove, whistling a tune. Arguing with Jocelyn would only make the situation worse, so she finished cooking breakfast and pretended not to notice her best friend glaring at her. Minutes later, she put the omelet on a plate, set it down on the table and said with a smile, “Bon appétit.”
Jocelyn stared longingly at the pack of cigarettes.
“Eat. You’ll feel better.”
“Quit bossing me around,” she snapped.
I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t acting like such a drama queen. Deciding to give Jocelyn space, she returned to the sink and put on rubber gloves. Sharleen loaded the dishwasher, swept the floor and emptied the garbage, all the while thinking about Emilio. It was hard not to. There was something about him that appealed to her, that touched her in a profound way, and she was looking forward to meeting up with him at the conference that afternoon. “Here’s your coffee,” Sharleen said, putting the ceramic mug on the table.
“Sorry for snapping at you, but I’m having the day from hell.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Jocelyn shrugged. “What’s there to talk about? My life is ruined.”
“There are other jobs and tons of great coaching centers right here in Atlanta.”
“I shouldn’t have trusted Brad.” Her voice wobbled, cracked with emotion. “How could I have been so stupid? So desperate that I didn’t realize he was playing me?”
Frowning, Sharleen sat down. “What does Brad have to do with you getting fired?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s too embarrassing.”
“We’re friends. You can trust me.”
Jocelyn lowered her eyes to the floor and hugged her legs to her chest.
“I’d never betray you. You know that.”
“I...” She stumbled over her words and paused to gather herself. “I slept with Brad.”
“No! Why? You hate him more than I do!”
“I know, but he showed up here with flowers and Chinese takeout on my birthday, and I caved. I was lonely, and for a while he helped me forget my problems.”
Guilt consumed Sharleen, made her feel low. This was all her fault. If she’d spent last Monday night with Jocelyn, instead of working late, her friend wouldn’t be in a miserable funk now. She’d make it up to her, would spare no expense. They were tighter than Gayle and Oprah, and Sharleen knew just what to do to lift her spirits. Front-row seats to the Rashad J concert were going to set her back hundreds of dollars, but Jocelyn was worth it. “You’re fabulous, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, especially that louse Brad.”
“I know, but I thought I’d be married with two or three kids by now.”
Sharleen didn’t know what to say. They’d had this conversation countless times before, as recently as last week, but nothing she said ever made Jocelyn feel better. So she just smiled sympathetically and nodded her head at the appropriate junctures.
“I don’t expect you to understand. You’re still in your twenties.”
“You’re right,” Sharleen conceded, determined not to argue with her best friend. “I don’t understand why you’re freaked about getting older, or why finding a husband is so important to you, but sleeping with Brad isn’t the answer. Hooking up with a colleague is asking for trouble.”
“You can say that again. He’s a sloppy kisser, a selfish lover and a lousy lay.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s got small feet and a huge ego!”
Jocelyn laughed, but the lighthearted reprieve didn’t last long. Sadness clouded her features, and her shoulders sagged under the weight of her despair. “Brad cornered me in the staff room the next day, and when I refused to give him a blow job, he went off on me.”
“What a pig,” Sharleen scoffed, disgusted. “He used to be a decent guy, but he changed when he got his master certification last fall. Unfortunately, he let success go to his head.”
Silence fell over the room, and when Jocelyn finally spoke, her voice was strained with anguish. “Brad threatened me.” Her eyes filled with tears, and her lips trembled. “He said if I make trouble for him with Mrs. Fontaine, he’ll post naked pictures of me online.”
“Jocelyn, ignore him. He’s bluffing.”
“No...he’s not... He has pictures of me on his iPhone.”
“They’re fakes,” Sharleen insisted. “People alter photographs all the time.”