“Because he was a dud. I picked up a new guy. Lives in Wrigleyville.”
Lauren’s vision shifts to me and I shrug. I’m not sure what she wants. For me to strap Vanessa down on the bed and dangle cupcakes in front of her until she confesses?
“You know you can tell us anything,” I politely say in my motherly tone to suggest we won’t judge.
“Do you want me to describe in great detail all the orgasms his giant dick gave me?” She sets the eyeliner down on the counter and it cracks in half from the pressure.
Yeah, something is definitely up.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Lauren rolls her eyes and turns around, pulling her long auburn hair up off her neck.
“Did you need me to zip this up for you?” I ask, my fingers already reaching for the zipper.
“Thank you.” She ignores the fact she never actually asked me.
Vanessa’s full-length mirror is right in front of her and I watch as she examines herself. A small smile creases her lips while she stares at her reflection.
“Yeah this is way girly.” Her arms contort in a motion I’m guessing she learned in yoga trying to reach the zipper to undo it.
“Wear it. You look amazing.” I stop her hands and she lowers her arms to her sides.
“I’m going to be uncomfortable all night,” she whines but I think part of her wants to wear it, she’s just not used to flaunting her assets this way.
“That’s the point of being a woman, L. God, you’re such a tomboy.” Vanessa heads back into her closet.
Lauren and I exchange another look until Vanessa emerges holding a pair of heels.
“Not going to fit me, Amazon.” Lauren stares at the black heels in Vanessa’s hands.
“They were my mom’s and they’ll fit you. And I might add that five eight is not an Amazon.” Vanessa slips on her own shoes finishing her outfit off and looking like she’s ready to step out of a limo with Bradley Cooper.
“Well, to me and Maddie you are.” She puts on the heels Vanessa hands her and instantly transforms from my friend who prefers sneakers and track pants, into a piece of arm candy.
“I have no idea how I became friends with two short girls.” Vanessa shakes her head in mock disappointment.
“I’m going to grab my clutch and shawl.” I step out of the room into the hallway.
“Shawl? What are you eighty?” Lauren yells after me.
“It’s fall in Chicago. You can freeze your ass off tonight. I won’t be sharing while we wait for a cab.” I head to the master suite down the hall.
Hey, I own the house we all live in so it’s only fair that I have the biggest room with my own private bathroom. Not that I don’t come home to find one of the girls in my jacuzzi tub on a regular basis. The only time it proved awkward was when I once sat down on the toilet to have a pee and realized Vanessa actually had a guy with her under the suds.
Yet another reason I don’t plan on us being here much longer. Once I get my new project secured and off the ground I’ll be moving out.
I flip houses and not the whole buy a house and earn a few thousand replacing the floor and adding a backsplash kind of flip. You know the old run down houses that no one wants? The ones people think are abandoned because they’re haunted, or the ones people think the homeless or heroin addicts live in? I buy those, strip them down to the bones and rebuild them into something worth coveting. What most people think is beyond repair isn’t worthless. I love being the one to show people the beauty hidden within.
Okay that and the fact that if I can buy a place for a steal, there’s a nice profit to be made. When I get a good contractor that is.
I enter my closet and grab the shawl in question off a hanger and wrap it over my shoulders, then take my clutch from the top of my dresser where I set it after I loaded it with everything needed for the night—money, ID, my credit and debit cards (you never know when you’re going to run into trouble and need either), my lipstick (so I can touch up when needed. I especially hate when they don’t have straws for their drinks—it makes your lipstick last only half as long), a couple Advil (because if they offer wine at the festivities tonight, there’s potential for a headache), my cell phone and a couple of pieces of gum. I’ve never really needed the gum because I’m not the type of girl to kiss a guy I just met, but I can’t say the same for my two friends.
I leave my bedroom and begin to walk toward the stairs.
“You’re not wearing a shawl tonight. You’re twenty-seven, Maddie.” Vanessa rips it off my shoulders and tosses it in the trash of the main bath when we walk by.
“Hey! That was my find at Nordstroms Rack,” I argue.
“And it should have stayed on the rack,” Vanessa says, her heels clicking down the wooden stairs that should be finished next week.
The girls and I have what we call Cheapster Challenges. We each go shopping and try to come back with the best deal on a clearance item. Whoever paid the lowest price and has the most fashionable item wins. When I say wins, I’m talking about a Froyo with unlimited toppings. Yeah, we’re not exactly big spenders here.
“Then you’re paying for the cab when I’m freezing.”
We stop and wait at the bottom of the stairs for Lauren to join us.
“With any luck you’ll have a big body keeping you warm tonight,” Lauren says from the top of the staircase.
She begins her descent and Vanessa and I stare up at her like Freddie Prinze Jr. in the movie She’s All That, minus the red dress and minus the fact that we don’t have penises. You get what I’m saying.
“Lauren,” I sigh. I’m taken aback, only having seen her this done up in the past five years at her brother’s wedding.
“Jaws up. Let’s go.” She bypasses us, walking straight out the front door.
Vanessa and I exchange a mutual look of humor at the fact our tomboy has grown up.
“COME ON!” she screams.
Okay she hasn’t changed that much, I guess. We shuffle out the door, heading to the bachelor auction and whatever adventure awaits.
Chapter Two
“I’m not usually into the whole first responders thing, but looking around I’ve definitely missed out on some mount-me possibilities.” Lauren’s gaze moves from one guy to the next.
Most of the men in here are all dressed in uniform. A few guys wear the bunker suit pants with no shirts underneath screaming one-night stand. They’re hot, but not my flavor that’s for sure.
“Stick to red and stay clear of the blue,” Vanessa warns, her dislike of cops stemming from her controlling father—commander in the eighteenth district. Of course, I don’t bring up the fact that he’s the entire reason we’re here tonight.
Let’s just say that Vanessa and her father’s relationship is…complicated.
She’s dragged us to The First Responders Fallen Hero Charity Ball where her dad, Commander Flanagan, will be auctioned off for a date. A date that Vanessa hopes will spur him into a relationship and give her dad more to do with his life than telling Vanessa how to live hers.
My hands instinctively reach for the earrings I borrowed from her when I think of her widowed father.