“Miss Nielsen?”
“Oh, hi, hello, hi,” I throw the phone into my bag and stand up with a start, all while extending my hand for a shake. “You must be Ms. Blake, nice to meet you.” I fumble a little with the folder that almost falls from my hand and my bag’s strap is slowly sliding down my arm. I try to hoist it up through the whole handshake thing. I must look lightyears away from the serious businesswoman I opted for.
Luckily, by the time we reach Ms. Blake’s office, I manage to get a grip and actually pull off a more collected and purposeful version of myself. I answer all the questions Ms. Blake has for me and present her with all the documents she requests. As we review the business plan, I answer a few more questions, and it’s the longest hour of my life.
When I leave the office and close the door behind me, it’s the first time since I came in that I feel like I can finally relax.
Done.
Nothing more to do but wait. Wait up to two months as I was told. When I asked if there’s any possibility to expedite the process and got a firm headshake, I decided to refrain from pushing any further. It’s a fifty-fifty chance as I see it. All I have left is to hope that by some miracle or because of my solid business plan, I get approved for the loan.
I twist my neck from side to side and roll back my shoulders. What I need right now is some distraction or a healthy glass of chilled Rosé . . . or both. I shoot out a message to the girls.
Anna to CHICKENS: Drinks in an hour?
Victoria to CHICKENS: Always. Where?
Kayla to CHICKENS: I’m in if we do it at Poison. We have a gig later tonight.
Pandora to CHICKENS: Poison and Wine it is then. I’ll be a few minutes late. Drummergirl, can’t wait to see you guys perform.
It’s Never Really “Casual”
“Whatever’s on draft,” Billy says to the cute, freckled waitress at Poison and Wine.
“Make that two,” Freddie adds. He gives me a wicked smirk. “And soda water for Saint Liam, over here.”
The waitress sends me a quick smile that comes in tandem to her cheeks tinting pink.
I throw my bulky scuba watch a glance. Two hours till my next shift. Alcohol isn’t getting anywhere near my lips. In every job you can leave a margin for fuck-ups, but not in mine.
“So, any chance you can take the time off?” Billy asks, referring to a west coast road trip the two of them are planning for a few months from now. What I wouldn’t do to join. This one’s up high on my bucket list, together with an MSF assignment. Albeit though, free time is not something I have. Nor will I have for the next few good years. It’s like they say, comes with the territory. What with my soul practically owned by the emergency department at Virginia Mason.
“After I got the time off for the MSF mission approved, I don’t even dare take an hour off, not to mention two weeks.” Our chief resident would cut my nuts off if I even dreamt of such a request. And Billy should know, he went through the same trajectory a few years back. Now he works in the private sector. A clinic he opened with a few colleagues, where he insists I’ll have a place when and if I decide to come on board.
“How is it going? The MSF thing?” Freddie asks.
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, ah Fred?” I say to Freddie, aka my roommate.
He snorts humoredly. “Dude, I hardly remember how you look as it is.”
He might be exaggerating a little, but Freddie essentially has the apartment to himself eighty percent of the time. Something that I plan on changing soon. It’s time I got my own place. Not to mention, most of the time I’m home he’s either deep in Slumberland or out at work. But even though we’re sharing a two-bedroom apartment, he’s been more than fair to split the rent forty-sixty. Freddie and I go way back. Billy once joked that we’ll soon be celebrating our Tin Anniversary.
“If the bureaucratic part goes smoothly and my credentials meet their criteria—”
“They do, and you know that,” Billy states.
I nod at him and go on. “I believe I’ll probably be called in for the personal meeting within the next couple of months.” Glancing up, I’m rewarded with yet another sweet smile as our waitress places our drinks and a bowl of peanuts on the round, high table. I reciprocate with a grin and a nod.
Billy takes a swig of his drink. “She’s cute.” Comes as an afterthought. Both Freddie and I nod in agreement.
Freddie tilts his entire body sideways as he follows her departing back with a gaze. “Nice ass.” It’s Billy and me who nod in agreement this time.
“Down boy,” Billy says to Freddie. “She just gave our boy Liam a googly look.”
Freddie pushes my shoulder for the sake of attention. “Get her number, dumbass.”
I shake my head. “Can’t you see commitment splattered all over her face?”
“This shit again?” Billy twists his mouth before shoving a peanut in. “Not everyone’s Cheryl.”
I send him a death threat glare for bringing up Cheryl and he quickly backs down.
“As good of a catch as you might be, Dr. Brody,” Billy says lightly. “Not every chick out there is ready to bear your offspring after a couple of dates.” He trades a headshake with my other friend before annunciating, “Cas-u-al,” like I’m too slow to understand.
The other idiot makes a whole show of tugging on a loose thread in his shirt while shaking his head. “No strings attached.”
I chuckle. Such idiots. “Said it before, and I’ll say it again, no such thing exists. Someone always ends up wanting more.” I train my gaze on one set of eyeballs, move on to the next, and ask, “When was the last time a casual thing stayed —” I air quote “Casual.” I nod in assertation when both remain with their mouths shut.
“Speaking of—” Billy says, his eyes trained behind me. He air quotes, “Casual.”
I give a backward glance and whisper to my friends. “I told her we’ll meet here.”
Both pat me on my back with more force than necessary, their toothy, “Good luck,” sounds synchronized. I stand up and salute them both with my middle finger, which only makes their assholes grins shine brighter.
I smile at Jenny who walks my way with a timid smile. My eyes run over her. Jenny is beautiful and smart which attracted me to her in the first place. Jenny also was the first to declare something in the vein of a casual thing when we met. She went on about how her studies left her little time to socialize. Needless to say, I was a hundred percent on board. We saw each other on and off for the last few months. It was mainly physical, but with a dash of casual socializing. We grabbed dinner a few times, watched a movie at my place after a round in bed. Until she texted the dreaded four words: We. Need. To. Talk.
I might come across like an asshole, but I swear I’m not. I don’t hop from bed to bed. I always treat my partners with utter respect both in and out of bed. And I always make sure they understand that I’m not in the market for anything serious.
They all nod and agree.
Until they don’t.
Case in point, Jenny.
Just before pressing a kiss to my lips, Jenny threads her fingers with mine. See what I mean? Not a so-called casual bone in the intimate gesture.