Roseanne
JUST BEFORE I exited the elevator into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman, the advertising firm I worked for on the twentieth floor, Lisa whispered in my ear, "Think about me all day."
I squeezed her hand surreptitiously in the crowded car. "Always do."
She continued the ride up to the top floor, which housed the headquarters of Manoban Industries. The Crossfire was hers, one of many properties she owned throughout the city, including the apartment complex I lived in.
I tried not to pay attention to that. My mom was a career trophy wife. She'd given up my father's love for an affluent lifestyle, which I couldn't relate to at all. I'd prefer love over wealth any day, but I suppose that was easy for me to say because I had money—a sizable investment portfolio—of my own. Not that I ever touched it. I wouldn't. I'd paid too high a price and couldn't imagine anything worth the cost.
Megumi, the receptionist, buzzed me through the glass security door and greeted me with a big smile. She was a pretty woman, young like me, with a stylish bob of glossy black hair framing stunning Asian features.
"Hey," I said, stopping by her desk. "Got any plans for lunch?"
"I do now."
"Awesome." My grin was wide and genuine. As much as I loved Jennie and enjoyed spending time with her, I needed more friends. Jennie had already started building a network of acquaintances and friends in our adopted city, but I'd been sucked into the Lisa vortex almost from the outset. As much as I'd prefer to spend every moment with her, I knew it wasn't healthy. Friends would give it to me straight when I needed it, and I was going to have to cultivate those friendships if I wanted them.
Setting off, I headed down the long hallway to my cubicle. When I reached my desk, I put my bag and purse in the bottom drawer, keeping my smartphone out so I could silence it. I found a text from Jennie: I'm sorry, baby girl.
"Kim Jennie," I sighed. "I love you... even when you're pissing me off."
And she'd pissed me off royally. No woman wanted to come home to a sexual clusterfuck in progress on her living room floor. Especially not while in the middle of a fight with her new girlfriend.
I texted back, Block off the wknd 4 me if u can.
There was a long pause and I imagined her absorbing my request. Damn, she texted back finally. Must be some ass kicking u have planned.
"Maybe a little," I muttered, shuddering as I remembered the... orgy I'd walked in on. But mostly I thought Jennie and I needed to spend some quality downtime together. We hadn't been living in Manhattan long. It was a new town for us, new apartment, new jobs and experiences, new girlfriends for both of us. We were out of our element and struggling, and since we both had barge loads of baggage from our pasts, we didn't handle struggling well. Usually we leaned on each other for balance, but we hadn't had much time for that lately. We really needed to make the time. Up for a trip to Vegas? Just u and me?
Fuck yeah!
K... more later. As I silenced my phone and put it away, my gaze passed briefly over the two collage photo frames next to my monitor—one filled with photos of both of my parents and one of Jennie, and the other filled with photos of me and Lisa. Lisa had put the latter collection together herself, wanting me to have a reminder of her just like the reminder she had of me on her desk. As if I needed it...
I loved having those images of the people I loved close by: my mom with her golden cap of curls and her bombshell smile, her curvy body scarcely covered by a tiny bikini as she enjoyed the French Riviera on my stepdad's yacht; my stepfather, Richard Stanton, looking regal and distinguished, his silver hair oddly complementing the looks of his much younger wife; and Jennie, who was captured in all her photogenic glory, with her lustrous, long, dark brown hair and sparkling dark brown eyes, her smile wide and mischievous. That million-dollar face was starting to pop up in magazines everywhere and soon would grace billboards and bus stops advertising Grey Isle clothing.
