“I can assure you it does not,” I reply. “Didn’t mustaches go out in the eighties? The only person I can think of that can rock a mustache is Burt Reynolds.” Ben rolls his eyes, which is not unlike him, and then kisses me lightly on the cheek.
“Look, babe, I gotta run. I’ll see you in a few hours,” he says and jogs down the rest of the stairs as I walk up the last three steps.
Before I have time to knock, the door opens and I’m greeted with a big smile from Stacy and a glass of white wine. I take it from her hand and say, “I do love you. You know exactly what I need.” I take a sip and the cool liquid slides down my throat. It’s sweet and fruity; just the way I like my wine.
“Please tell me you have food in this apartment. I skipped lunch,” I say to Katelyn who is walking out of the kitchen with her own glass of wine as Stacy is closing the door behind me.
“There are a few slices of my leftover pizza from about an hour go. It’s in the kitchen on the counter. You’re welcome to that,” she offers, gesturing to the kitchen.
I round the corner and place my glass on the black granite counter. Picking up a piece of cold peperoni pizza, I tear a piece off with my teeth; it’s delicious. I look out into the living room from the kitchen and Stacy is once again giving me a disgusted look.
“You two are gross,” she says as she starts walking down the hall to her bedroom. I know it’s going to take her a few hours to get ready. It will probably take her an hour just to decide what to wear.
“No, we just know how to eat unlike you who is skinnier than a rail!” I shout so she can hear me. I mean really, who doesn’t like pizza I ask myself as I walk out of the kitchen. I take a seat on the couch next to Katelyn with my glass of wine and slice of pizza in hand.
“Do you ever wonder how guys don’t split her in two during sex?” Katelyn asks while changing the channel with the remote.
I laugh, spitting my wine out. Katelyn has the sense of humor of most men and can speak their language. “Often,” I say and take another bite of pizza.
“So what’s our plan tonight?” Katelyn asks me while leaning over and taking a bite of my pizza.
“I was thinking Charro for dinner, and we can head to Club Blue about nine-ish,” I suggest, snatching my pizza out of her mouth and taking the last bite.
“Works for me,” she says as she settles on a movie and places the remote down. It’s Pulp Fiction and it’s about midway through. This is a classic and one of my favorites. John Travolta is the man, and I love his movies, well most of them. I cannot sit through any part of Michael. That movie, the little bit of it I have seen, is awful.
A few hours later, I’m getting off the couch to go find Stacy when I hear my iPhone chime; the sound of a text message. I retrieve my purse pulling out my phone; it’s Nick. I read the time on my phone and its 5:53 pm. Opening the text I read his message.
Why is all of your stuff gone?
Why does he care? He should be glad I’m gone from his place. I really don’t want to deal with this right now, but I reply to his text.
I had time on my hands.
I decided to get everything
today instead of tomorrow
I start to set my phone down when it starts ringing. It’s him. What the hell is his problem? I figured he would be glad to get rid of me after his dismissal earlier this morning.
“Hello?” I say into my phone. My anger from this morning starts to filter in. I can’t believe myself. I think I’m madder at myself for giving into my desires than I am at him.
“Where the hell are you?” he questions in an angry tone.
What the hell?
What business is it of his where I am? The last time I checked, I don’t belong to him either. What is it with men in the last few days, thinking women are their property? This woman belongs to no-fucking-body!
“At a friend’s apartment, what’s your problem?” I snap at him, remembering why I thought he was a jerk two nights ago. He has no right to demand to know my whereabouts, and why the hell am I telling him anything? I should hang up on him.
“You said you were coming tomorrow to pick your things up. Why the change of plans? And why when I wasn’t here?” His voice still full of anger; apparently this time, his anger is directed at me.
“What does it matter?” I ask, but I don’t wait for his answer. “Look Nick...maybe we shouldn’t see each other again. I have to go, bye,” I say quickly and hang up. I feel depressed and sad when I set my phone down.
I need another glass of wine. Alcohol seems to be my fix for everything these days. Walking into the kitchen, I pour another glass as Stacy walks in.