“No man is just a nice guy,” Carly says.
Brook nods in agreement. “After twenty years in the legal system, I can vouch for that.”
Carly continues, “Male female relationships are transactional by nature. Men want sex, women want protection, or money, or love. I married my husband because I wanted loads of security, and he married me because I’m beautiful. It was a transaction. Both of us were mature enough to acknowledge that up front.”
I stare at Carly. Sort of dumbstruck. “But then what happens if you’re no longer beautiful, or if he loses all his money?”
She tilts her head gracefully. “That’s what prenups are for.”
Brook starts to laugh. “Being a model was wasted on you, Carly. You should’ve been a lawyer. You’ve got balls of steel.”
I pick up my wine glass and try to take a drink, only to realize that it’s empty.
Hannah smiles at me and scoots closer. “If it means anything, I don’t agree with Carly. I’m really happy for you that you know such a good man. My husband is that way too. He doesn’t have a selfish bone in him. He’d give a stranger the coat off his back. It’s why I fell for him.”
Brook lets out a long sigh.
Carly lifts her cup in a toast and drinks down the last of her wine.
“Next time we meet, you’ll have to tell us if anything’s changed,” Brook says. “My money is on blackmail. Or, hmm, he wants something. You have a contract, right?”
I look at her in surprise, then remember she’s a lawyer. “Right. Yes.”
At least, tomorrow I’ll have one.
“Good.” Then Brook looks down at her watch. “Well, time’s up. I’ve got a ton of work to do tonight.” She stands abruptly.
I stand up too and pull on my coat and scarf. Hannah steps close and sticks her arm through mine. “So, you’ll come back next week, right?”
I give her a smile. “Yeah. I’ll be back.”
With Hannah’s arm looped in mine and Carly and Brook behind us, we leave the bright pink uterus room in the dingy rat-and-cockroach-infested basement of Clive’s Comics.
When we’re back on the sidewalk, Brook shuts and locks the cellar door with a padlock key.
“Do you own Clive’s Comics?” I ask in surprise.
Brook scoffs. “No way. Clive’s my second-cousin, he’s a real douche. But I gave him some free legal advice last year so he owes me. Thus, we get the pink palace for our meet-ups.”
“It’s a lovely place to meet,” Carly says.
Brook shakes her head, “I’m waiting on the penthouse invite, Carly.”
Carly smiles. “Night, ladies. Ta.”
“That means thanks,” whispers Hannah.
Then Carly pulls out of her purse a wig, a hat, and large sunglasses. I gasp. “You’re the wig lady. From the waiting room.”
Carly lifts an eyebrow. “And you’re the bathroom girl.”
I blush. Right…
“Bad wigs and ugly hats. The trials of the semi-famous,” Brook says. “Goodnight everybody.” She lights a cigarette and then starts to walk away.
“You’re supposed to be quitting,” Hannah calls.
“Tomorrow,” Brook yells back. “Night.”
“Bye,” I call.
“G’night,” Hannah says.
I take my time getting home. When I’m finally there, I change into my fuzzy flannel PJs, brush my teeth, wash my face of the subway and city grime and then climb into bed. After thirty minutes of tossing and turning, thinking about contracts and babies and fertility, I turn on my phone and type a search into the browser.
Then—
Brook was right.
Naked Carly is hot.
I quickly shut the browser and slam my phone down on the dresser. I can’t believe I just looked up a nude photo of Carly.
Jeez.
I force myself to go to sleep. When I finally drift off, I dream of sending naked photos to Josh and sperm trapped in tighty-whities running away from my eggs.
14
It’s Friday night and I’m in my sister’s kitchen popping popcorn for the kids. It’s my weekly babysitting night, where I get to spoil my nieces and nephew for four hours straight. Josh texted an hour ago to say he was running late. I’ve already played nine rounds of snakes and ladders, three games of Chinese checkers, and a half-hour game of hide and seek. By unanimous vote, we’ve decided to have homemade kettle corn while we watch one of those adorable talking dog movies.
The kitchen is at the back of the house, well-lit, and wallpapered in an amazing pattern of chickens and daisies. It was on the walls when Leah moved in and she thought it was so hilarious she swore she’d never take it down. Twelve years later, the kitchen is still plastered in clucking chickens. While the rest of the house is modern, the kitchen is all farmhouse.