The Pretend Girlfriend(4)

"Not you, apparently? Jeez, Gwen, I was about to come over there and knock down your door. Anyway, you're lucky. I found Messner's phone number off his faculty page; I have it written down here and everything."

"You know, that wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me today," Gwen said. She went over to the window and parted the blinds, peering down at the street as though she might see Janice coming in through the front entrance to tell her this was all just some misunderstanding.

But the only things down on the street were cars and vans and trucks, and none of the pedestrians looked like Janice.

"What's up?" Beatrice said. Despite her jokey nature, she really did care about her friends, and could be serious if the need arose.

For the third time that day, Gwen related her story. Every time she mentioned Janice's name, she stomped down on her messenger bag. It felt good to hit something, and the books had a nice give to them.

"Okay, here's what you're going to do: you're going to meet me down at that Starbucks on the corner in twenty minutes and we're going to figure this out..."

"I can't afford a latte..." Gwen started. It felt good to get some sympathy, but she needed more than a Janice-bashing session over espresso.

"My treat. Just meet me in twenty minutes..." Beatrice's voice grew mischievous, "Remember, I still have Messner's number written down."

"Okay, okay, fine. Just make it twenty five minutes; I have to fix myself up."

"Twenty," Beatrice said. Before Gwen could argue the point, Beatrice hung up, and the text Gwen sent received in reply an image of a notepad with a phone number scrawled across it and a little devil's face drawn beneath.

To Gwen's surprise, it actually felt good to do something. The urge to crawl back in under the covers receded as she threw socks and jeans and shirts out onto her bed looking for the right thing to wear.

Even though this wasn't going to magically make thousands of dollars suddenly appear in her bank account, it was a step towards some sort of solution. Even if it was just a solution to her burning need to unload on someone.

Just moping about in bed also felt good, but it usually led to just sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, and that definitely wasn't going to get her the money she needed.

So, just shy of twenty minutes later, Gwen stepped into the busy corner Starbucks and out of the only slightly lessened downpour outside. The brief walk kept her from getting soaked again, but the bottoms of her jeans did get wet, and she could already feel the quick drying and straightening she'd done on her hair turning to frizz.

Beatrice waved her over to a set of comfy chairs she'd somehow managed to commandeer. Gwen never got those chairs; they always seemed occupied by middle-aged men in business suits sipping at espressos, pretending to read the Wall Street Journal while they actually just watched the cute young baristas make drinks behind the counter.

Beatrice had them banished to the less comfortable chairs and tables farther back in the coffee shop, and they shot resentful glances her way that she ignored.

"How much did you say it was again?" Beatrice said, sipping from her grande mocha. She'd bought Gwen a grande vanilla latte, which sat steaming on the little table.

"Around $5000," Gwen answered, sitting down. It felt like someone had loaded about 5000 pounds worth of lead into her stomach, which currently tried to pull her through the tile floor.

Beatrice swallowed some of her mocha, then whistled at the number.

"Not helping," Gwen said.

"Yeah, sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just... wow. Man, that just makes me wish Janice was here, I'd..." Beatrice set her mocha down and wrung an imaginary Janice's neck. It was quite a thorough and realistic demonstration.

Gwen couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, me too. But something tells me she's already far away. And I bet she's already spent all the money, too."

"You know, I always thought she was a jerk. You really should've come and stayed at my apartment."

Gwen forestalled that argument. They'd tried to live together after first year, renting a basement apartment below a bungalow together. But they were just fundamentally incompatible as roommates. Gwen liked things tidy. Beatrice let the dishes pile up for a week. Gwen liked to get up and turn her alarm off right away. Beatrice liked to doze in bed for an extra half hour, her radio blaring. To cut the story short, they decided to save their friendship by agreeing to not live together any more.

Though, Gwen doubted that Beatrice would have tried to make off with the rent money on her.

"Maybe, but unfortunately they haven't invented time travel yet, B. What am I supposed to do in the here and now?" Gwen said.

"I wish I could loan you the money, but I just don't have it," Beatrice said. Gwen knew that she would have, but she also knew that Beatrice only did a little better in the financial department than she did. And Gwen wasn't about to put her best friend into a deep debt hole just to save herself.