35
Charleigh
Charleigh twists her hair into a ponytail, then drags a hand towel across the back of her neck.
The sound of sneakers squeaking chirps all around her; she and Kathleen just finished up a match of racquetball at the Boat House. Charleigh won every game, of course; she’s ruthless on the court.
They stumble from the glass container, paw their keys out of the rectangle box outside the court.
“Daiquiri?” Kathleen lifts an eyebrow at Charleigh.
“Sure, why not.”
They head upstairs to the lounge, pry open the door. On the TV set hanging above the bar, MTV plays a Paula Abdul video, “Straight Up,” and Charleigh, who, just an hour before was admiring her own figure in the locker room mirror, eyes Abdul’s body with jealousy.
“Strawberry daiquiri for me,” she says.
“And I’ll have a piña colada,” Kathleen tweets.
As the blender whirs, Charleigh’s eyes land on a flyer taped to the far wall. Pressure builds in her chest as she squints to read it. It says SWIFT’S APOTHECARY across the top. She can’t make out the rest.
“Be right back.” She hops from her barstool, saunters over to scrutinize.
Swift’s Apothecary
Have You Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’?
Join us for an afternoon workshop on fertility, femininity, attraction, and more! Learn how natural botanicals can help put the spice back in your marriage! $10/person. Organic sack lunch included.
This Saturday, July 7, 3 p.m.
123 Seven Pines Road
903-555-1212
All the tabs but one are torn from the bottom of the sheet. Charleigh leans in, rips it from the flyer, jams it in her pocket. She doesn’t know why she took it; she has no interest in going to it,obviously, but then, if everyone else is going, she doesn’t want to be left out.
Ugh, that family, and ugh, that woman.
“Charleigh! Drinks are up!” Kathleen raises her piña colada, shakes it.
“You going to this hootenanny?” Charleigh asks, fishing the wad of paper out.
“Yeah. It’s this Saturday. We’reallgoing. Didn’t Monica tell you?” Kathleen’s eyes shine with innocence. She can be so naive sometimes.
Of course, Monica didn’t fucking tell me, Charleigh thinks to herself but doesn’t say out loud. “Nah, she didn’t. Probably because she knows I’m not interested. That family is weird as hell. I mean, I get that,” she says, scooting her stool closer to Kathleen’s and lowering her voice (Kathleen loves a good dish session), “she wants to bang the husband and all—”
Kathleen snorts, sweeping a sheet of her glossy hair over her shoulder. “She does not.”
“Does, too. You see the way she was pawing at him at the fish fry.”
“I mean, he isso sexy. I’d do ’im.” Kathleen smirks.
“You’d never cheat on Kyle—”
“Ha! You don’t think he cheats on me?”
“I didn’t say that…but—”
