“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.
“Actually, Bella, there is something I wanted to talk to you about…”
“Oh!” Bella perked up in her seat, adjusting her perfect ponytail and letting her bangles hit the table with a resounding thud of anticipation. “I’m tipsy enough to receive the tea. So go ahead…”
I twirled a finger around an errant curl, winding it tightly around my finger. “Well, there is this situation… I did something I shouldn’t have. And…”
Just as I was about to spill my guts about last night, I heard someone call my name above the bumping bass of the Damian Marley’s “Welcome to Jam Rock.”
Standing in front of me, in simple khaki shorts and short-sleeved palm-tree printed shirt, was the most delicious thing that wasn’t on the menu. His eyes, the exact color of the trees on his shirt, danced as faint smile lines appeared at their corners.
“Porter?”
Chapter Eleven
Porter
“Porter?” Ari questioned, staring at me with a look I could only describe as horrified.
Her friend looked at me curiously and smiled, then looked back at Ari with a raised brow. I couldn’t tell if something amused or aggravated her.
“Hey, I just saw you over here. I was at the bar with my brother,” I said. I extended my hand to her lunch guest, who I noticed wore an obnoxiously large, but gorgeous, wedding ring. “Hi. I’m Porter.”
The friend smiled and shook my hand. “Oh, I know who you are. I’m Bella La Croix. Best friend. Confidant. Alibi if need be.”
I smiled. So, this was the infamous Bella that Jamal was reminiscing about. I could see why. She was a beauty, but the real stunner at the table was Ari. I watched as she adjusted herself in the booth, her jaw tight with nervousness.
“Ah, Bella. I’ve heard so much about you,” I said, trying to cut the awkward tension I felt. I really didn’t know anything about Bella, but I was trying to be overly polite. It wasn’t clear if my usual dose of charm was working. Bella looked puzzled and then looked at Ari.
“Right!” Bella looked at Ari with a very quizzical look. Their looks, a secret language, told me that maybe I’d interrupted something.
“I’ll let you all enjoy your lunch. I just wanted to say hello. Ari, you look…beautiful, by the way. See you Monday.”
Before she could reply, I turned quickly and went back to the bar where my brother was standing, looking utterly confused.
“Dude, you left me to go talk to a girl! Devin’s got our table ready. I’m hungry as shit!” Todd playfully nudged me as we walked toward our table.
“I was just saying hello to my coworker, Ari.”
Todd peered over my shoulders, sipping on his rum and coke. “Oh, yeah. Ari is the chick you all just hired, right? She’s fine…you know I like them slenderoni.” Todd was looking directly at Bella, giving her a thorough inspection.
“No, Todd… That’s her friend Bella. It was the other girl. In the yellow.”
Todd looked again, craning his neck. “Oh.” And then he fell silent as he continued to sip his drink.
“What does that mean? Oh?” I asked. I knew what that meant. Todd was being Todd—a judgmental asshole.
“When you said your coworker was cute, she’s not what I was expecting. That’s all,” said Todd. “I mean she’s cute. But not what I expected.”