32aa (13 page)

I think I hear titters of amusement from the gathered party as the twins run off, firmly clutching my sarong.

“Now boys, be nice to Emma.” Peri descends after her flock, leaving me to Jack’s tender mercies.

“Jack,” I say, blushing at my vile green, near-nakedness. “What are you doing here?” I ask, and I know that my voice sounds harsh and unfriendly. “I thought you were in Helsinki. Or Honolulu.” At least, somewhere beginning with H. I should remember because Peri keeps me up to date on Jack’s life. But I usually stop listening when she starts, because I really
don’t
want to hear about his
amazing career,
the latest architectural
award
he’s picked up or which
girlfriend
he’s currently dating. Jack dates a lot.

“Nice to see you too, Emma. Hong Kong,” Jack tells me.

He looks fabulous, damn him. He’s obviously been working out.

“Fabulous bikini,” he lies, giving me the once up and down. “You haven’t changed an inch.”

I know that he is referring to my bust size, and I blush even more brightly. This is not kind, so I respond in a similar way.

“How’s the knee, James?” I ask, smiling sweetly.

You see, his real name is James. James Brown. His parents had a strange sense of humor, as well as a deep, abiding love for the music of Mr. Brown. And, like his namesake, Jack has problems with his knees. One knee, actually. Not from falling to them on stage, but he tore a ligament during a Varsity football game. It was the end of his football career. Which was a tragedy, apparently, because according to Peri he showed great promise.

“I haven’t had any complaints about my passes.” He smiles, smugly.

What a slut he is.

“Well…
interesting
to see you again,” I say, choosing my adjective with care.

“Sure. Maybe we’ll bump into each other in another couple of years if we’re unlucky.”

“Not if I see you first, hahaha. Just my little joke.”

“Yeah, you said it. Oh, heard you got dumped. Sorry. Happens to us all.”

I scowl at his disappearing (but amazingly muscular) back, and head off in search of a large towel and the liquid refreshment Dad has promised me.

You see, I once nearly made the mistake of sleeping with Jack. Nine years ago at Dad and Peri’s wedding. Thank God, I didn’t, but I would have if I hadn’t overheard him bragging to his friend Chip.

This is what happened.

I was twenty-one. I’d drunk too much champagne, because I was just legally old enough to consume alcohol so I made the most of the occasion. Jack and his college pal Chip (completely sober or so I thought, on account of being nineteen) spent the whole of the reception flirting with me, dancing with me and generally making me feel that I was the most beautiful girl in the world. It was so—so wonderful, that two attractive young men should compete for me.

And I, in my drunken haze, lapped it all up. Although the fuchsia bridesmaid dress (carefully but inappropriately chosen by Peri) was terrible, after a couple of glasses of champagne I truly considered myself on a par with Grace Kelly.

I was
beautiful.

I was
desirable.

Handsome young men were flirting with me! And I was having the time of my
life!

Plus, I really went for Jack in a big way. Tall, lean, dark-haired, with the most amazing chocolate brown eyes and a kind smile. Chip was okay, if you go for the “I’m God’s gift to women” type, but basically an overbred idiot with an eye for anything in a skirt.

After a trip to the restroom to freshen up (and to brush my teeth in case of kissing opportunities), I decide to cool off on the hotel patio, and this is when I see Jack and Chip. They are smoking cigarettes and drinking underage beer, and I am just about to go and join them when something stops me.

They are laughing and talking. About me.

This is what they say.

Chip: “The titless blonde’s really up for it. Christ, you’d think she’d get implants or something. Can you believe her father’s a plastic surgeon?”

Jack: “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Chip: “Well she’s not my usual type, my friend, but beggars can’t be chosers.”

Jack: “Yeah.” Followed by laughter.

Chip: “But she’s the only vaguely decent chick at this wedding—the only
single
chick at this wedding. You got a coin? We’ll toss for her.”

I don’t stay to listen to any more. Suddenly, I am completely sober, and flee back to the restroom. The full-length mirror, which only minutes before told me I was beautiful and desirable à la Grace Kelly, is now harsh and unforgiving in the glare of the light.

I curse myself for being an idiot. If I were a lesbian, I would not fancy myself in this dress. So after I have a bit of a cry, I carefully reapply my makeup, and smooth wisps of hair that have escaped the elaborate French chignon. Much as I would like to run and hide, I know that Peri and Dad will miss me so I make my way back to the reception. Plus, now that I have finished crying, I am getting angry and feel a strong compulsion to get even with these two brash young guys who think they’re so irresistible. And as I take my seat at the head table, Jack wastes no time in joining me. Obviously, he won the toss.

Jack: “You want to dance or something?”

Me: “No, thank you.” In my most frigid tone of voice.

Jack: “Come on, it’ll be fun.” He tugs at my hand.

Now the alcohol has made me brave, so instead of just refusing and forgetting all about some brainless comments made by a couple of idiot jocks, I am now extremely angry.

Me: “I may be titless, but I’m not desperate. Go away, little boy.”

So you see, our relationship did not get off to a good start, and since that day I make a point of avoiding him if at all possible. Nine years is a long time to hold a grudge, and you might think that I’d forgive and forget, but I can’t. Especially now, after Adam’s betrayal…

On the occasions we
do
meet, we’re not exactly hostile to each other. We just trade the occasional insult and part company.

Two large Bloody Marys later, I am feeling much better. Peri has been momentarily distracted by the twins. I think they did something vile to the salad dressing, so I will remember to avoid it. I have settled myself on a lounger at the far side of the pool. The umbrella is nicely positioned to avoid any chance of the sun touching my skin, and I have a lovely beach towel wrapped around the hated lime green concoction. All in all, I am quite happy with my solitude and could easily have a little doze…

Five minutes later my eyes jerk open as droplets of water trickle over my legs.

“Norbert,” I say.

“Emma. Good to see you. I’ve just been for a swim.”

I know this because (and this is a really
big
clue) he is dripping wet.

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. Your parents have a great pool. Did I tell you about the pool I’m having built? Well, it’s kinda like this one, except bigger.”

“Oh.” Everything about Norbert has to be bigger and better. I think he has a bad case of penis envy. I am the first to say that size does not matter, but I can think of no other reason for the sizeist chip on Norbert’s shoulder.

“Yeah. So, I hear you got ditched by your boyfriend.”

“It was a mutual decision,” I tell him. “We split up because I am an independent woman.” This line still does not sound convincing. I must work on it.

“Oh. Right. So you’re unattached then? Because I’m between regular girlfriends at the moment.”

“That’s unbelievable,” I tell him, willing him to go away and leave me in peace.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just, you know, dating lots of different girls right now. So if you want to have dinner sometime, I can check my datebook to see when I’m free.”

“It’s very nice of you to ask, but I’m not really ready to start dating again just yet.”

“Oh, sure. I understand. But maybe after a couple of weeks, when you’ve got over the split with your boyfriend—”

“I’ll keep you in mind.”

“So, you’d better give me your telephone number. So’s I can call you.”

How did this guy make it through medical school? He must be hiding his intelligence quota under the proverbial bushel.

“I’m staying with a friend and I just can’t remember the number off the top of my head,” I lie.

“Oh. Well, I’ll give you my card later so you can give me a call.”

“Sure.”

Never in a million years will I go out with Norbert. Why does he automatically assume that all girls are attracted to him? I mean, he’s not bad looking, or anything. His double chin is very sweet, really. And he does have all his own teeth. And I’m sure some girls find hairy backs a real turn-on…

And just when I think my brief encounter with Norbert is over, he makes himself comfortable on an adjacent lounger.

“That Kaylie is a real cool chick,” Norbert tells me. “I don’t like to poach on Derek’s territory, you know, but she was really fascinated by my new car. Did I tell you about my new car?”

“Yes, Norbert. At Easter.” At great length.

“Oh, right. You know, Derek did a great job on her implants, don’t you think? That’s how he met her. She’d just got her divorce, and decided to get surgery to celebrate. They didn’t start dating until after she stopped being his patient,
because that would be unethical, see. But that’s a really romantic way to meet, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” On the romance stakes front, it’s right up there with “How about a fuck?” But I don’t say this. I don’t want to encourage Norbert to talk to me for any longer than necessary.

“You know something, Emma?”

“No.” But I’m sure you’re going to tell me, I think, as I see Jack heading back this way. Oh goody, another obnoxious male to torture me. What do I need to do? Hold up a sign that says “I want to be alone”?

“I don’t get it,” Norbert drones on.

Jack is getting closer.

“What’s that, Norbert?” My, Jack
does
look good. Shame about his jock personality and tendency for serial monogamy.

“Hi guys, mind if I join you?” Jack asks, which is rhetorical because he immediately claims a lounger.

“Sure, big fella,” Norbert says. “I was just saying to Emma that I don’t get it. I mean, you’re a great-looking chick and all, Emma, but why don’t you get breast implants?”

See what I mean about Norbert’s penis-envy, sizeist issue? I feel my face getting hotter. Jack, obviously, is enjoying this enormously and is grinning from ear to ear.

Shut up, Norbert,
I pray, but of course he doesn’t.

“I know your dad can’t do them for you, because he’s your dad. But Derek is truly a master surgeon. I mean, you can’t tell Kaylie’s are false, can you, Jack?”

“No. They look very real. And very large.”

“Oh, I get it,” Norbert says. “Derek’s kind of like family, isn’t he? Well, if you’re uncomfortable with Derek, I could do them for you. I’d be happy to do them.”

“Yes, thank you, Norbert,” I tell him, my face flaming as I jump to my feet. Norbert has larger breasts than me.

Oh, the injustice of it all.

“I’ll certainly think about what you said,” I say. “Well, you guys have a nice bond. I’m off for a swim.”

As I approach the pool, I drop the towel at the very last possibly moment and dive cleanly into the water. After a few laps, I feel better, and then the twins decide to join me. As I reach the shallow end, they jump in and ambush me. Jack Junior is on my back, and Joe Junior is clinging to my midriff.

“Oh, how sweet,” Peri calls from the side. “The boys want to play with their sister. Don’t get too rough now, boys. Emma’s not used to it.”

“Giddy up, horsey,” cries Jack Junior.

“Me want a turn,” cries Joe Junior, elbowing at his twin.

And as they are fighting over whose turn it is to drown me, large hands extricate them from my person. It is Jack.

“Come on, guys, give Emma a break.”

“We wanna play,” says Jack Junior.

“Yeah. My turn,” says Joe Junior, grabbing me in a choke-hold.

“Let go, brats.”

“No!” they cry in unison, and I think that I am doomed.

“Remember that talk we had last night, boys? You know what happens to naughty little brats who are mean to people?”

Oddly, this works, and the twins release me. I wonder how Jack did that? I make a mental note to ask him. But before the boys change their minds and decide that I am fair game, I make my escape back to the deep end.

Jack is already there and on the side of the pool waiting for me. He offers me a hand and hauls me up out of the water, and I wonder why he is being so helpful. But I am thankful that Norbert, distracted by the possibility of food, has deserted my table.

And it is just then that I realize that I am no longer wearing the hated vile green bikini top and that Jack has a wonderful view of my 32AA’s.

“You lost this.” He grins, as he holds out the scrap of lime-green. And he is having a really,
really
good look at my boobs.

I cover my breasts with one arm, and grab the hated bikini top with the other.

“Here.” Jack hands me my towel and I scowl because I am totally embarrassed and don’t know what to do.

“I don’t think anyone else saw you.” Jack gives me a lazy smile, and I want to punch him because I know that he will make a nasty comment.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn him. “If anyone else says a word about my boobs, or lack of them, or implants, I will punch them in the nose.”

“Hey.” Jack grins holding up both hands. “Would I?”

Yes, he bloody well would.

“You know what I think?”

“Do I want to hear this?”

“More than a mouthful’s a waste. Nice boobs. Don’t change them an inch.”

As he saunters back around to the other side of the pool he is whistling cheerfully, and I want the ground to open up and swallow me.

Jack Brown has seen my breasts.

And, oddly, he seems to like them.

TO DO

1. Sneak out of house before Jack gets up. Can’t face him after breast-revealing episode.
   
2. Buy Peri something really, really embarrassing for her birthday and present to her in front of all her friends for maximum squirm value!
   
3. Study
   How to Rekindle Your Sex Life
   in detail and at great length. Will then be complete sexpert and maybe men (but not Norbert) will want to date me!
   

Friday, 5:30
A
.
M
.

I’m awake, so I might as well go back to Hoboken because I don’t want to get caught in the commuter traffic heading for the Lincoln Tunnel. Plus, after the breast-exposing incident yesterday, I would rather avoid Jack if I can.

I cannot believe he saw my breasts.

5:45
A
.
M
.

“Emma, darling, you’re up early,” Peri bubbles at me as she grinds coffee beans.

How can anyone be this cheerful so early in the day?

“I had a feeling you wanted to get up and go, so I thought I’d catch you before you left. We can have a little girlie chat. We didn’t really get the chance yesterday, with everyone here, and the boys are such a handful. Coffee?”

“Great.” The coffee would be very good, indeed. But the girlie chat?

Nonono.

I brace myself and sit at the kitchen table.

“Oh, I also wanted to give you your birthday gifts,” she tells me, placing two gaily wrapped parcels in front of me. “I didn’t want to, like, give them to you in front of everyone and the boys,” she says, “because they’re a little bit, like,
naughty
. I bought them before you and Adam split, but I’m sure they’ll come in useful in the future.”

God, I can hardly wait to open the packages, I think, dreading it. What on earth could she have bought me?

“Morning, Jack, did you sleep well?” Peri smiles over my shoulder and I blink with dread.

Doesn’t anyone around this place ever sleep late?

“Like a log. Morning, ladies.”

Jack, resplendent in his boxer shorts, is sporting “I just got up” hair, which is standing on end, but still manages to look sexy. How can he look that way without any work?

“Come on, Emma, open your gifts.”

“Maybe I’ll save them till later…” I hedge.

“Don’t mind Jack, he’s, like, family. You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of Jack, does she, Jack?”

“Nope. Emma and me go back a long way.” He winks at me. “We have no secrets.”

And I look down at the gifts because I am blushing. I open the book-shaped parcel, first, because I figure this can’t be that embarrassing.

But I am wrong.

It is
How to Rekindle Your Sex Life,
and assures me that my man will never stray if I try the techniques mentioned within its pages.

The second gift is a vibrator.

“I’ll look at it later,” I say, pushing the box to one side with just a hint of the desperation that I feel.

“Come on, don’t be a killjoy.” Jack grins. “This I want to see.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Emma, we’re all adults here,” Peri tells me, and I don’t tell her that Jack is excluded from that statement.

The vibrator is
enormous.

It is also very pink, and is ridged down each side to afford maximum feminine pleasure, so the packaging assures me. It is complete with plastic balls and a mop of pink fuzz.

It’s completely awful.

“Oh,” Peri squeals like a teenager, “I just couldn’t resist it. Gracie had a sex party last month and I just had to get it. It’s such a hoot, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, avoiding eye contact with Jack.

“Here.” Peri grabs the pink appliance. “Let me show you how it works.” She fumbles with it for a moment, delaying my agony.

“Actually, I think I can figure that out for myself,” I tell her. “Later.” Much later.

Oh, God, now they think I’ll be giving it a test run tonight.

“Can I watch?” Jack asks, giving me a leer as he pulls it away from Peri. He switches it on and it…well…it
vibrates.

Rather alarmingly. And loudly.

In and out it moves, squishing the plastic ridges like a concertina before expanding outwards again. And even if I am desperate, on account of never getting any actual sex, I could never use this vibrator because
everyone within a five-mile radius will know what I am doing.

They will
know
that I am a sad, hopeless woman who cannot get a boyfriend and that I have resorted to having sex with a very loud mechanical device.

“Switch it off, Jack, you’ll wake up the boys,” Peri tells him. “This is, like, not appropriate for them at all. I’d better just go check on them.”

It is too dreadful for words.

“This is
great,
” Jack tells me, handing me back my ten-inch vibrating bundle of joy, and I push the hateful thing back into its box. “I wonder what Norbert would make of it?”

“Not that he’ll ever get the chance to see it,” I tell Jack, then giggle as a naughty thought occurs to me. “But if he did, I’m sure he’d be very jealous. Every time he suggests implants to me, I shall recommend to him at every opportunity to get a penis extension. In fact, I will buy one of these for Christmas for every male of my acquaintance who has ever said the words
breast implants
to me. Just to make them feel inadequate and small.” And then I remember that this is Jack I’m speaking to and that he has actually
seen
my breasts, so I shut up.

“Emma…” he begins, pushing a hand through his sticking up hair, and whatever it is he intends to say (and I’m sure it is something really embarrassing) is thankfully lost, because Peri bustles back into the kitchen and pours the coffee.

“You know, Emma, I completely swear by that book. I can’t tell you what it’s done for our marriage.”

Oh,
please
don’t, I think. I really don’t need to know about my dad’s sex life.

“I bought it for Jack, too, after he got engaged…Oh, sorry, Jack, didn’t mean to, like, bring back sad memories.”

Jack was
engaged?

“You were engaged?” I ask, stunned by this new insight into his previously serially monogamous existence.

“Briefly,” he says. “It didn’t work out. No big deal.”

“Oh.” I am dying to know what happened, but obviously I cannot ask him. I feel a bit sorry for him, actually, because just for a moment there he looked very sad. Maybe I can pump Peri at a future opportunity.

“So.” Peri sits herself down opposite me. “What are you going to do about an apartment?”

“Well, start looking, I suppose,” I say.

This is not a chore I relish because I have a sneaky suspi
cion that all of the apartments I like, in all of the areas that I favor, will be way too high for my modest salary.

“I can stay with Tish for as long as I need to,” I say. “But her apartment’s so tiny, I don’t think it can be for long…We get along great, but I’m sleeping on her sofa and my clothes take up most of her living room, so it’s not ideal.”

“That’s what I thought!” Peri says, with great joy. “You see, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. And I’ve come up with the perfect solution.”

I do not want to live with Dad and Peri and the twins. It is too horrible to contemplate.

“You can live with Jack!” Peri claps her hands as if she’s just announced we’ve won the lottery.

“What?” I say.

“What?” Jack is equally stunned.

“Yeah, I was talking to Daddy about it last night, and we think it’s perfect.”

“I really don’t think—” I say, but Peri is steaming full-speed ahead.

“Jack has this great brownstone house at the top end of Hoboken, you know, one of those tree-lined roads up by the college? And it has so many bedrooms, and you’re so tiny and you don’t take up much space. So what do you think, guys?”

“Don’t you have it rented out to a bunch of students?” I ask him.

“No, silly, he didn’t renew the lease when he decided to come back home from Hong Kong.”

“Oh, you’re back here in the States permanently? In Hoboken?”

“Yeah.”

“How…nice,” I lie.

“Isn’t it great?” Peri bubbles.

“The house needs a lot of work,” Jack begins. “Lots of floors to be restored, lots of painting to be done—”

“Emma won’t mind, will you, Emma? Anyway, you can’t
paint all the rooms at once. You can move around as you need to. It’s not like you don’t have the space. And you can charge Emma a reduced rent, so the disruption wouldn’t be a problem for her, would it, Emma? You should, like, charge her a reduced rent, anyway, because family should help each other, shouldn’t they? We think five hundred dollars a month would be, like, fair. And Jack, I
do
hate to think of you rambling around alone in that huge house.”

“Er…” Jack scratches his head and I know that he feels pressured.

He is not alone.

But five hundred dollars a month is really, really cheap. Maybe I should think about it…Maybe I need my head examined for even considering moving in with him. No, this is definitely not a good plan. But I think I’ll let him suffer for a couple of seconds longer before I refuse, because it’s nice to have the boot on the other foot for a change.

Plus, I know he feels beholden to my father. You see, Dad lent him rather a lot of money a few years ago for the down payment on the house. At that time, Hoboken was just about to become up-and-coming, so he got the house for a really good price. It must be worth a fortune, now that Hoboken is awash with the Manhattan overflow, and Jack knows it’s all due to Dad. Therefore he feels
guilty
saying no to me.

I feel guilty for pressuring
him.

“It’s okay, Jack, I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” he says, but his sincerity is questionable.

“Of
course
it’s fine,” Peri says. “It’s the perfect solution. And besides, Emma’s family. It’s not like you’d be living together, like really living together.”

“Well, we’ll see,” I say, looking down at my new book. It has the most amazing pictures on the front…

“Oh, Jack, go get ready. Come on, hurry up,” Peri tells him. “You haven’t got all day.”

“You going somewhere?” I ask Peri.

“No, silly, but you’re driving back to Hoboken, aren’t you? Jack hasn’t got a car yet so he may as well travel with you. It’ll be nice to have company for the journey, won’t it? And it’ll save Daddy or me having to drive him later.”

“Oh, fabulous,” I say.

2
P
.
M
.

Tish’s apartment really is too small. Her living room, already fairly cramped, resembles my life.

Messy and overcrowded with baggage.

I am depressed.

You see, the boys found my secret loose floorboard hide-away, and my car keys were once again fair game. No amount of coercing by Peri could persuade them to reveal the location of the keys. But this is not why I am depressed, because, for once, I am happy with the charming antics of my demon half brothers. You see, it meant that I couldn’t drive my car back to Hoboken. Which is great, because I could do with leaving it at Peri and Dad’s house for a while. It is always so hard to find parking spaces in Hoboken, and the multistory car lots are horrendously expensive, so this will save me money. Which is good.

The other obvious benefit of having no car keys is that I couldn’t drive Jack back with me, which means I did not have to suffer an hour of his company in a confined space.

No, the real reason I am depressed is because Jack
was so glad that he didn’t have to drive with me.

He was positively
euphoric
when I announced that the twins had, in all probability, fed my keys to the garbage disposal again. He smiled. He actually
smiled.
Because, obviously, he can think of nothing worse than having to sit in a car with me.
He cannot bear to spend more than a few minutes in my company.

Obviously, I do not have any warm feelings for Jack. And I would have to be really desperate to date him, and he is a serial dater without a conscience. But it hurts that I am so unattractive to men in general.

I couldn’t face the torment of a ride back to Hoboken with Peri and the twins, so instead, I have spent the past four hours missing buses and getting on express trains instead of local trains, and ending up in places I definitely don’t want to be.

I am going to the gym to get rid of my post-traveling commuter rage.

A lonely Friday evening looms ahead of me and I feel like a freak. Only a week since my thirtieth birthday, and it’s already a bad year for me. I am drinking my second glass of Adam’s delicious wine and eating instant cup of noodles (just add boiling water, hey presto, dinner), because I can’t conjure up the enthusiasm to either (a) cook something, or (b) pick up the telephone and order something. Plus, I need to save all the money I can for a rental deposit.

The wine makes me think of Adam, and I can’t help but torture myself with thoughts of him and Stella having wild sex and laughing about me. I can’t believe he’d be this cruel. I can’t believe how much I miss him, despite his being a bastard ionic bonder. I’m lonely, and I want a friendly shoulder to cry on.

Sylvester and David are a no because it’s their most hectic night of the week, so they’re too busy to listen to my “poor me, why me” ramblings. I
could
go round and see Katy and Tom, but they need some space. Some alone time, without me (or Marion Lacy) playing third wheel. Apparently, when Katy tried to sneak home early after the MASS mothers march yesterday, Marion Lacy (and some of the mothers) followed Katy home and invited themselves to her barbecue. Something has to be done about that woman!

Tish is out with John again (via O’Malley’s, of course). That’s three times in four days. At this rate, Tish will reach her sex limit by tomorrow night. She firmly believes that after four dates, you should sleep with a guy just so that you can check out if you’re sexually compatible, and thus avoid the need to waste time and money on more dates if the sex is crap.