So hopefully you have read Chapters 1 and 2 before starting on this Chapter, if not I would encourage you to go back and have a quick read. Again, this is a collaboration with the magnificent SiteNonSite.
And as always I encourage you to take the time to read all of SiteNonSite's stories if you haven't already.
Take Care of Yourself
Usually, I try to get to work at least a half-hour early but on Monday I arrived just on time. I stopped to heat my coffee and ran into Keith and Ben in the break room.
"Friday night was great wasn't it?" Ben asked.
"Yeah I had fun," I told him but felt sheepish about leaving without saying goodbye. "I was glad to head home though."
"Who was the blonde?" Keith asked, a sly look in his eye. "You looked like you'd hit a wall."
I blushed. I hated myself for blushing in front of them. Ben was my age, but he was a big barrel-chested bear of a man. While Keith was diminutive, even for a Japanese man; slender, only a little taller than me. He's only six or seven years older than us, yet he was already the wunderkind at Pentagram when we were still in high school. Now he's in charge of his own department at the Times, and I was blushing in front of him and Ben.
"Oh, you saw that?" I said, my color rising. I found myself thinking of my hand on Claire's breast, her hard dark nipples. "...That was no one."
'What is wrong with me?' I wondered, hating myself more. They were looking at me in confusion.
"I mean, that was no one from work... that was my friend Claire," I explained. "I was pretending to be drunk? Helping her out of a jam I guess? She was with a bachelorette and felt bad leaving early."
Keith gave me a quizzical smile but said nothing. Ben just hid his smirk behind his coffee mug. Luckily my phone started vibrating, I made a show of taking it out and looking at it seriously, there was a text from Claire.
"I need to deal with this," I lied, turning and heading towards the ladies' room. Once I was safely tucked in a stall I open Claire's text:
How's your Monday? There's an opening at the gallery Thursday night, Sophie Calle - the show is going to blow your mind - are you free? Can you come?
That sounds great, I don't know Sophie Calle, what kind of artist is she? My Monday is fine, but I just found out my boss saw our departure, he saw us leaving and thinks I was totally white-girl wasted.
AΓ―e! Sorry about that, I hope it's not bad...
No, not bad at all. Keith is cool, I think he's just amused. What should I wear Thursday night?
Something sexy, there will be many eligible gentlemen there, but you're my date! There's a big dinner afterward, very posh. Sophie will be there (she's AMAZING, as for what kind of artist she is, she is her own kind, but I promise you will love it the most InfoPorn!
Sitting there on the toilet I had a flash of cold terror. I tried to imagine what I owned that would measure up to Claire's standards of sexy. I thought of the little green dress I'd bought for a friend's wedding that spring. I'd chickened out at the last minute after Danny had become irritated with me.
"You're not wearing that?" He'd asked. "You might as well be naked, Sarah."
I had been so excited to wear it, to be seen by my friends, but I couldn't do it, he was right, it was just too revealing. I could hear my mother's voice lecturing me about being a good girl, my thoughts, at the time, had been interrupted by his voice.
"Your boobs are hanging out," he'd told me. But I'd known what he meant, that I looked like a whore. I'd started to cry, ruining my makeup, and he'd stormed out of the room. "Jesus Christ, Sarah you're so fucking neurotic."
In the end, I'd worn a black dress that went down to my knees and no neckline whatsoever. Danny had sulked all night because he didn't know anyone at the wedding. We hadn't even danced because he was sulking... and I was afraid he'd start a fight if I danced with someone else.
I was staring at Claire's text. The tiny picture next to it. Maybe her at the beach?
I was squeezing my phone and clenching my thighs. I tried to relax.
'You're so fucking neurotic,' I told myself.
I would love to say that my week sped by, but the truth is I wasn't really sure how cool Keith was with my drunken departure. Although we were super busy I felt like I was walking on eggshells at work, and after work, all I could think about was what I should wear for my "date" with Claire.
The highlight of my days was texting with Claire, who would send me links to something funny or an update on her day.
When Thursday night finally rolled around I was a nervous wreck, and I came very close to bailing. I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself in the little green dress. It was soooo short, the neckline was sooo low. But I was
invested
, it was too late to choose a different dress, or at least too expensive.
On Tuesday I'd splurged on a new pair of heels that went perfectly with the green dress. I'd gotten up early and gotten a blowout, which everyone at work had made a fuss over. And while I don't usually wear much makeup, I'd done my eyes and was wearing the red lipstick I'd bought for the same wedding and NEVER worn. If I changed now, I'd not only be late, I'd have wasted a
lot
of money on the heels. My whole body was shaking.
"You don't look like a whore," I told my reflection as I grabbed my little trench coat and dashed for the door before I had a chance to chicken out.