“Then call Linx, ask him for a ride.” Kellie grinned like she’d just solved the Riemann Hypothesis million-dollar math problem.
Marlee paused mid-danish-to-mouth. “That’syour solution?”
“Simple. To the point.” Kellie wandered to the card table-as-dining-room-table to snatch another pastry.
“Then you pounce on him.” Sadie patted Becca’s calf. “When you get out of the car, pretend to trip a little, when he helps, do the lip lock thing. This time, make sure you’re clear with your body language that you want more.”
“I’m not doing that.” Becca sighed and scrubbed her palms over her cheekbones. “One of the regulars tried to pick me up the other night. Maybe I should let him.”
He wasn’t Linx, but he’d make a decent life-holiday fling.
“No.” Marlee shook her head. “He may as well be a co-worker. And we all know that we don’t take coworkers home with us.”
“Linx and I kind of worked together last night,” Becca pointed out, even though it went against what she really wanted.
Marlee shook her head again. “Yeah, but he’s not really your co-worker. He was just helping Brek. Different paradigm. Doesn’t count.”
“But the guy who comes in pretty frequently does?” Becca asked.
Marlee logic didn’t make a whit of sense.
“See, she understands.” Marlee did a shoulder shrug dance that she probably should’ve patented when they were teenagers because it was totally Marlee.
“I wish you all could experience the joy of his guest bedroom.” Becca fell back on her sorely lacking futon. “Seriously, the bed. The basket. The shower with six nozzles. The man’s aftercare program is on point.”
“Makes you wonder what stops he’d have pulled out if you had invited him into bed with you.” Marlee giggled at her own funny. “What if I da—”
“No.” Becca tried to skewer her with a glare. She was certain it was a failure, given that she didn’t skewer people often. Usually, she listened with an empathetic ear and an open smile. She’d have to practice skewering to refine. “Do not dare me on this. I need to let it happen naturally.” Well… “Mostly naturally.”
“Becca?” her mom called from the bottom of the steps leading to the loft apartment.
The one thing this meeting of the minds did not need was her mother.
“I’m here. My friends are over.” Becca called back. Otherwise, her mother would continue right on in and make herself comfortable with Becca’s girlfriends. And didn’t that just sound like she was fifteen again and covered her bedroom mirror in Lisa Frank stickers?
Her mom had always been great about giving Becca and her friends their space. This hadn’t always panned out for her. But they’d only wound up in front of a judge the one time, and it was totally unfair. Thankfully, Marlee’s parents had deep pockets that paid for attorneys to illustrate the depth of unfair. All the girls got off with warnings and a promise they would wear their shirts the whole time they were at professional hockey games. No exceptions.
The clomp of feet on stairs did not indicate that her mom went the other direction.
The door opened and her mother appeared. “Hey, honey.”
Becca smiled. Her mom was so her mom. Super soft spoken—nearly to a fault—but she had opinions, and she had her ways of ensuring that everyone in her vicinity knew precisely what those opinions were. She was also the queen of swinging others to see her point of view.
Also, her mother came off as a bit of a curmudgeon. It was all a show, from the cardigan twinsets to the super comfy orthotic shoes, because Becca had seen the pictures from her younger days. Perhaps she was more comfortable in these outfits, but she had a history. Becca had seen the receipts of that history. She was sureshewas a receipt of that history.
“Mom.” Becca used her super calm voice. The one her mother had taught her.
“Don’t you use that tone with me.” Mom bustled into the room. “We need to discuss your choice not to text me when you decided not to come home last night.”
“I was working. My phone was dead. I slept at a friend’s house.” Also, she was a grown-ass adult with multiple degrees and the ability to make her own decisions.
“Which friend?” Mom asked, glancing between the girlfriends all gathered around. “One of these ladies or… someone—” She coughed like she was clearing her throat. “—else?”
Becca should’ve known her mom wouldn’t fall for sleeping at a friend’s place.
“I’m a grownup.” And sometimes, apparently, her mother needed the reminder.
“Oh, I know.” Her mother gave a sly, knowing smile. “I know you’ve had the sex, too.”
