The Build Up (28)

Damn. Was I that predictable? Had my life not changed in almost twenty years? That’s pathetic.

As the music continued to thump, I moved uncomfortably in my seat, my body pushing up against the table. Bella put her hands on her chin, waiting for a response. I felt stuck in more ways than one. I took a sip of my rum runner and folded my hands in my lap.

“Is my life that pathetic, Bella?” I asked quietly. “Has it always been pathetic? Is that why Maurice...” I nervously fidgeted with my hands in my lap as the question still swirled in my head. Bella reached across the table and motioned for my hand. Reluctantly, I removed one hand from my lap and placed it on the table. Bella put her perfectly manicured hand on top of mine, her wedding ring looking like a meteor against her slender, deep brown fingers.

“Of course not, Ari. Maurice was a dick. But it’s time you found someone to be with. Give you some steady orgasms. Or babies. Or both. Not just someone you call when you have an itch. Someone to spend quality time with you. Have fun with! You don’t need to spend your weekends sitting in your gorgeous house doing renovations with an old but sweet Ecuadorian man as your only male company. And don’t think I didn’t hear you say you went out with a coworker? That Porter guy, I presume?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Yes. Just to celebrate my time there. He’s my partner on the stadium project.”

“Hmpf,” said Bella with skepticism laced in her voice. She could always read me like a book.

The waiter came back to take our food order. He turned to Bella first, but kept his eye contact with me, mostly.

“For you, miss?”

“I’ll have the jerk pork,” said Bella.

He then turned to me, all bright white Colgate smile against that rich skin. “And what are you having, beautiful?”

“I’ll take the curry shrimp,” I said, not bothering to see how spicy it was. According to my mother, it was the perfect cure for a hangover and horniness.

“Dat all ya want, dahlin?” he asked with a raised brow. I looked at him, puzzled. Defensiveness shouldn’t be my go-to response, but I absolutely hated the assumption that, because I was a large woman, that I was going to eat myself into a food coma.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s enough,” I said, slamming the menu on the table. Bella’s eyes grew wide as she sipped her drink.

Instead of snapping back at me like I anticipated, the waiter leaned down, his locs grazing my shoulder, tickling the strap of my sundress. He whispered in my ear in a panty-dropping tone. “Because I get off in ’bout an hour.”

I felt an uncomfortable heat making me hot in places that I shouldn’t and a heartbeat thump down in my coochie. I looked at Bella as she continued sipping her drink with wide-eyed fervor. I looked down at his starched white shirt and found his name tag. Nigel. Great. Even his name was sexy.

“I’m good... Nigel. Really,” I said, backing away from the melting tones of his voice.

“If you change your mind...” Nigel said as he winked, sliding a piece of paper with a number on it. “I can give you something more filling than some shrimp.” Then walked off to put in our food order.

“Well, damn,” said Bella, fanning herself with the wine menu like a genteel Southern lady. “That was hot! Girl, call him!”

“Girl, I’m not entertaining this waiter,” I declared as I balled up his number and put it in my purse. “Look at this place. How many women has he picked up in here? Probably dozens. It’s literally a sea of beautiful women here every weekend.”

“Who cares!” shot back Bella, raising her brows playfully. “The man wants you!”

“Oh my God, you married women are all the same! You want to live vicariously through us single women, getting us to live out your sexy fantasies so you can get off on it!”

Bella snickered. “Yeah, Ari, you might be right. Married ladies get stuck with the same dick for eternity, doing the same five positions, and you all are out here living the life. So yes, maybe we’re trying to hear about hot, new, and nasty sex.”

My eyes bulged in surprise. “Sex that bad with Zach?”

Bella rolled her eyes, then sighed. “I don’t get it enough to complain about if it’s bad or not. We’ve got the twins, starting my new business, and Zach’s residency. Maybe if I was a patient in need of a facial reconstruction, he’d pay me more attention.”

“Now you know you don’t need a face-lift!”

Bella smiled, throwing her fake ponytail over her shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. My face is flawless. We look better than any of these twenty-two-year-old chicas in this place trying to find themselves a sugar daddy!”

We both laughed and gave each other a high five.

“But seriously,” said Bella. “You’re too amazing to be alone! Plus, you need to celebrate this job with a celebratory screw. Why not start with the Mr. Bombastic until you get the real thing!”

I smiled at Bella’s relentless pursuit to knock the dust off my nether regions. Bella was one of my best friends. We were opposites but bonded instantly when we were paired as roommates in college. Bella was a gregarious girl with a killer body and killer face, yet down-to-earth, supportive, and most of all, kind. Folks always knew me as “Bella’s friend, you know, the big girl with the cute face.” On the rare occasions that I felt bad about my weight, Bella was always there to brush the negativity away. “You’re perfection!” she would say. “If this was the 19th century, you’d be a masterpiece.” If that kiss with Mary Turner in ninth grade hadn’t sealed the deal in my firm heterosexuality, I’d marry her.