“Why don’t we wait downstairs for Monica to get ready?” Emily asked, stepping between us again. The woman was supposed to be a hotshot defense attorney, which would no doubt come in handy when I snapped and had to kill Naomi.
My (debatable) best friend looked like she wanted to argue, but let her sister-in-law shoo her toward the door. I had no desire to get dressed and leave my room, but Naomi had rallied the troops, and there was no way I could shrug off their misguided attempt to revive me without hurting their feelings.
Sighing, I stopped Jayson to find out what I was in for. “What exactly will this pampering involve?”
“Pedicures and shopping,” he replied with a clap, clearly way more excited than anyone should be.
“And then we’ll check out an office space for a special project we’re working on,” Naomi said over her shoulder. “I can’t wait to bring you in on it. Monie, we need your help.”
Naomi and I wanted to kill each other, but she was still my best bitch. Whatever she was up to, I needed to at least appear excited for her. I was trying to force myself to engage, but couldn’t muster up the energy to even feign interest. Hoping to buy the necessary time to get my shit together and support my friend, I promised to join them downstairs, exhaling in a huff as they finally left.
Changing clothes used to take me five minutes. Ten if I was torn between outfits and couldn’t make up my mind. Now it took longer than that just to change bras. I managed to get yesterday’s off just fine, but putting on a fresh bra for today…. That wasn’t so easy. Leaning against the door frame to hold the back still so I could clasp it, I took at least ten swipes at the clasps before giving up and tugging on a sports bra that I had to slowly unroll over myself.
As for pants, buttons and zippers were out, so I dug through suitcases until I found a pair of leggings and a matching tunic. Pulling them on wasn’t easy, but I managed. Getting dressed was a huge, unnecessary pain in the ass, and I needed to figure out a way to make Naomi understand that so she’d cut me some goddamn slack. As if. Since we were getting our toes done, I slipped on a pair of cute sandals, grabbed my toiletries, and headed down the hall.
Once my face was washed and my teeth were brushed, I mustered up the courage to look in the mirror. Jayson was right, I did look like I’d just come off an eighties hair band bender. I’d always prided myself on my healthy locks, but this shit was becoming problematic. One-handed styling options were basically non-existent. My normally styled, sleek dos were now a pipe dream since I couldn’t even braid it, put it up, or tie a scarf around it. Maybe it was time to kick vanity to the curb, buzz it off, and invest in wigs.
What is the point of any of it?
Clothes, hair, hell, even the promise of a pedicure didn’t make me happy anymore. I was just so fucking tired and discouraged. Keeping my locks down and natural for now, I brushed the tangles out until my arm started to fatigue, and dumped in enough product to minimize the frizz. The result wasn’t pretty, but at least I no longer looked feral.
By the time I joined the women downstairs, I felt like I’d worked a full day. I was exhausted and ready to crawl back into bed, but they were raring and ready to go. Plastering on my best fake smile, I joined them, already trying to figure out the best way to cut this pampering trip short.
Stocks
AFTER SPENDING THE past six months wondering if Monica Johnson was really as incredible as my memory made her out to be, it felt wrong to know she was down the hall while I was sitting in my room, wondering how long I should wait before I knocked on her door. Despite the many changes she’d gone through since I’d last seen her, Monica’s magnetism was still off the charts. My chances of resisting her were about as good as my chances of sharing the treat bag her mom gave me.
Not fucking happening.
I’d killed those baked goods on day one, even dumping the crumbs into my mouth to make sure I got every last drop. Hell, I’d thought about turning the bag inside out to lick it clean, but somehow managed to show a little restraint.
Which was more than I wanted to show for Monica.
Having already tasted her, I knew she was better than any cookie. I also knew she wouldn’t appreciate me beating down her door to make sure she was okay. Even injured, she was independent, and I needed to respect her boundaries. I had it bad for her, but wanted her respect as much as I wanted her body and knew better than to paint myself in a desperate light. So, I kept my ass in my room and my phone charged, hoping she’d call me for something—anything—so we could pick up where we’d left off after I’d carried her bags up.
We’d reconnected, I was sure of it.
Yet two days had passed, and I hadn’t heard a word from her.
Saturday evening, I’d gotten a brief glimpse of her. When she returned to the station with Jayson and the girls, I was playing pool in the common room with Wasp. She floated by, claiming exhaustion on her way up the stairs. That was the last time I’d seen her, and although I figured she was holed up in her room, I kept checking the lot for her car to make sure she hadn’t fled.
“We need a game plan,” Naomi said, barging into my room with Maya on her hip. “Monica’s no longer ghosting me, but her one and two-word answers have me so frustrated I could scream. She’s right down the hall and still brushing me off, claiming that she’s too tired to do anything. All that woman does now is sleep. It’s time we put a plan into place to help her.”
“I’m in,” I said, waving at Maya who giggled and hid her face in her mother’s side. Naomi didn’t need to convince me to help Monica. The only reason I hadn’t checked on her was because I needed a valid excuse so my attention wouldn’t seem suspicious, and all my ideas sucked ass. I couldn’t cook for shit, but was about one desperation level away from making her a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich just to have a reason to knock on her door. Was she even eating? “Tell me what to do.”
Naomi chewed on her lip and looked down at her daughter. “I don’t know. You’re supposed to be the expert on this.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “I’m no expert on anything, especially not women.”
“Me either.” Situating Maya on her lap, Naomi perched on the arm of my sofa. “Monie and I have an unusual friendship. We bonded over beer, karaoke, and the desire to prove ourselves to our testosterone-driven competition. We’ve never been shoulders to cry on, because we were too busy kicking each other in the ass. I’ve tried everything I can think of to motivate her out of that bed, and nothing’s working. She’s gotta schedule an appointment with a prosthetist and start up physical therapy, and she doesn’t seem interested in any of it. It’s almost noon, and she hasn’t even eaten or showered. Hell, I don’t think she’s left her room at all.”
Naomi sounded almost as fixated on Monica as I was. I wondered how she knew Monica hadn’t showered, but decided not to ask. If Naomi had stooped to something as low as using motion detectors or checking the shower stalls of the shared bathroom for moisture, I didn’t want to know. Since I was getting to the point that I’d roll over on my own mother to get close to Monica, I didn’t want the ammo to implicate Naomi if I was backed into a corner.
Monica was fucking us both up, for sure. I felt like a junkie, jonesing for my next hit of her presence. After going months without seeing her, now that she was here, I couldn’t get enough. I’d even cracked open my door so I could catch a glimpse if she ever emerged from her room again. Pathetic, but I couldn’t help it. Something about her just kept drawing me in.
“The Monica I know and love handles her business,” Naomi continued. “She’d have researched all the prosthesis options, selected the one to best fit her needs, and figured out how to obtain it and get it to work for her purposes. She wouldn’t be moping in her room like her life’s over. Money’s not an issue since the insurance company of the at-fault driver’s employer will be footin’ the bill. Besides, she banked the check from the sale of her house, so she’s not hurtin’ for funds. I just don’t get why she hasn’t gone forward with this, you know?”
“What’s the point?” I asked.
