Lacey sat beside the tall plate glass window, thousands of yards high into the sky, simply turning the wine glass in her hand as she stared out the window into the brilliant night sky, ablaze with bright lights and the bustle of the city below. She hadn't touched her wine, barely played with her food and hadn't said a word in the last ten minutes to her dining companion across the table.
Tyra set down her fork and blotted her lips with her napkin. "Lizzy! Stop drifting on me, honey. I can't help you unless you talk. Is it him again? Honey... he's a cowboy. If you want a man in boots and a Stetson, I can go find one, or five for you right now down on the street."
Lacey's mind barely registered that Tyra was even speaking to her and she slowly turned her head, blue eyes seemingly blank as she simply stared at her a moment before blinking, coming back to the here and now temporarily as confusion settled across her troubled features. "Hu - huh? I'm sorry, did you say something?"
"Okay. Yeah. We're getting out of here. You need to unwind." she flagged down the waiter for their bill and handed him her credit card. "C'mon chicky."
Lacey set her wine glass down and stood, almost forgetting to grab her purse as she started to follow Tyra and then turned back to retrieve it. It was as if she had been uprooted from her body and was merely a spectator watching from afar. She shook her head and tried to snap herself out of it but she felt so empty inside. Pinching the inside of her left arm hard, she winced and followed Tyra, reaching up to smooth back her long blonde hair as she tried to think of anything ... anyone but HIM.
Tyra walked with her friend arm-in-arm down the street through the hustle and bustle of the city night life in attempt to get Lacey somewhat back into the flow of things. "Now, tell me honestly Lacey... did you sleep with him?"
Lacey sighed gently as her arm looped in Tyra's. They had been best friends ever since before Lacey's climb to the top at Metropolitan magazine. She was the only true friend that didn't try to stab her in the back as she applied for and then received senior editor for the magazine. "Well, kinda," she admitted, thinking back to her encounter with Wesley in the hotel, a small smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. She could almost see him again in that towel, swearing as he came out of the bathroom, laying on the bed in tears as he revealed his past to her, the whites of his knuckles as he grasped the headboard.
"Kinda? How can you kinda sleep with a man? Wait..." she shook her head. "Never mind. Don't tell me. Damn Lizzy! No wonder you can't get him out of your head, honey. Let it go. You're home now."