I could see Barbara fuming as soon as I entered the room. I smiled and wiggled my fingers in an innocent little wave as I approached the table. She just scowled. This is going be fun, I laughed to myself.
A couple of hours earlier I had "accidentally" sent her a text, ostensibly meant for her son, Timmy. It read, "Hey cutie! Remember to stop by my place on your way home. Thanks, Timmy!" I figured that would convey enough to her suspicious mind without actually confirming anything.
Ever since my tiny bit of flirting with Timmy in front of her at their pool a couple of weeks ago she was wary of my getting near him. A few well placed, but innocuous, comments I had Timmy say to her recently likely upped her concern level. I made sure he had an excuse ready if she asked questions. He was to tell her either he ran into me at the store or the gym. He was to say something along those lines. All believable and innocent. But I knew her paranoia was working in my favor. She could be so uptight and controlling that the uncertainty would get to her.
Why was I toying with my friend Barbara like this? Well, precisely because she was so uptight and controlling. But mostly her increasingly know-it-all attitude and the condescending, disapproving comments that she directed my way all too often recently. I'm not exactly sure why she behaved like this. Maybe she envied my more carefree ways, including my indulging an insatiable appetite for younger men.
She hadn't always been like this. She used to be hell-on-wheels herself. But now? Not so much. And while I could be breezy in my attitude towards life it didn't mean I would be taking any holier-than-thou attitude from her without some pushback.
Besides, Timmy was such a delectable morsel. He was so scrumptious and cute, if not the brightest young man. Needling Barbara was just icing on the cake that was tasty Timmy.
I sat down, still all smiles, removed my new sun hat and plopped it on the empty chair between us. "Hello, Barb. What was so urgent?"
"You know," she tersely whispered across the table. I had suggested the club dining room because she wouldn't risk a scene around people we knew. She guarded her reputation assiduously.
"No Barb, I don't. What's wrong?"
"Timmy"
"What about him?"
"Why are you texting him? It's inappropriate!"
"What do you mean?"
"You sent it to me, you stup...," she cut herself off and looked around to make sure no one was overhearing us.
Ignoring whatever insult was likely to finish her outburst I hesitated just long enough to act like I was coming-up with an excuse in my head, "Oh, that. I needed him to help me move the table on my deck. I was leaving the gym when he arrived and I asked him if he'd help. I was just texting to remind him. Simple as that."
She didn't buy it. But, she wasn't supposed to. "No. That's bullshit. I know you!"
"What's that supposed to mean," I said leaning backwards and crossing my arms defensively as if I had been offended? (Of course, I wasn't offended in the slightest.)