Between Friends

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Authors: Amanda Cowen

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BOOK: Between Friends
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Between Friends

By Amanda Cowen

Between Friends Copyright © 2013 by
Amanda Cowen

All Rights reserved. No part of this
book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written
permission from the publisher, except by reviewer who may quote
brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book
and have not purchased it or won it in an author/publisher contest,
this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by
purchasing the e-book from one of its many distributers.

This book is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or
occurrences is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines
are created from the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.

For more information
concerning the cover art, please visit
http://damonza.com

*****

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my mother, my
family and friends for their support.

Thank you to “the crew” for your
life-long friendships and inspiring me to write Between Friends. I
can’t even begin to thank you enough for being in my life all these
years.

I owe a huge thank you to everyone who
helped me out along the way and read the first drafts of Between
Friends. (You know who you are. I love you all of you!). Trust me
when I say that I couldn’t have done this without you.

Thank you to my earliest readers, Dina
Morrone and Shayne Stolz for believing in me, in turn making me
believe in myself.

And most of all thank you to my
husband, my best friend.

*****

To Connley and Owen, with
love

“Be who you are and say what you feel,
because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t
mind”

  • Dr. Seuss

Chapter 1


What are you looking at?” Were the first five words Ben had
ever said
to
me.

I had spent
the last few minutes watching him meticulously sort out the red
M&M's from a candy dish on top of the kitchen table before he
shoved a pile of them in his mouth, “Do the red ones actually taste
differ
ent, or are you just a
weirdo?”


What do you
think?” he asked as a goofy grin spread across his face.


I’m thinking
weirdo.” I laughed, and tossed my long brown hair to the
side.

Ben tapped his
fingers on the table and bit his lower lip, “I’m thinking you’re
wrong.”


I think not.” I snapped back, hearing
all our mutual friends snicker from
behind me.

He quickly
stuck his hand back into the dish and pulled out a single brown and
red M&M, “Well then, I guess you’ll have to see for
yourself.”

I rolled my
eyes
and let Ben place one
brown M&M into the palm of my hand. I popped it in my mouth,
tasting its milk-chocolate flavour. When I was done, he proceeded
to present me with the red one. His smug smile encouraged me to
crunch down on the deal breaker with hopes of disproving his
theory. But as the red candy coated texture began to melt in my
mouth, I hated to admit it, but he was right.


Well?” Ben
asked with a playful glimmer in his eyes.

I nodded in
defeat.

Ben
triumphantly fist pumped the air, “Well, you passed the test. I
guess that means we are going to get along just fine.”

That same
night, back in the ninth grade, Ben and I ended up secluding
ourselves from everyone at the party. We talked about anything and
everything in a dark corner of my best friend Jessica’s basement.
We quickly realized we had a l
ot in common. Our sense of humour was the same (deadpan and
dry). He also had a father who cheated on his mother (as did I). He
sometimes ate pickles for breakfast (also my favourite morning
treat). We both preferred bare feet to socks; we both despised
Halloween and dressing up in ridiculous costumes; and we both liked
spicy food.

There was
never a weird lull in our conversation or an awkward pause. I
wondered where he had been my whole life and I thought I had found
the perfect friend. It worried me to think that if Jessica were to
ever break up with Michael, (Ben’s best friend) I could potentially
lose Ben as a friend forever (high school loyalties - you know how
it is).

But luckily,
their perfect love story lasted all the way through high school,
right on through college, and into our young adulthood. It was no
surprise when Jessica called me last year on Christmas morning
screaming into the receiver that Michael had finally asked her to
marry him. Everyone in our long-standing group of friends was so
happy for them. After all these years, they were tying the knot,
and even better they decided to do it in Costa Rica.

So after a
long and winded day at work, I am more than thrilled to be boarding
a plane in the morning for this highly anticipated wedding. I
unlock my front door and scurry into my bedroom. I have so many
things to do before tomorrow, and I haven’t even started packing
yet. I flop down on my bed, and pull out the maid-of-honor
checklist Jessica made me crumpled up
on my nightstand.

Megan’s
Maid-of Honour Checklist

By Jessica
Marie Ellis (best friend and bride to be!)

1.
Four
No wait, FIVE pairs of Spanx
(Michelle might need to double up. She didn’t lose the 10 pounds
like she promised)

Ohmigod, Jessica can be so
cruel. Our friend Michelle is far from needing to lose a few
pounds. She may be more pear-shaped than the rest of us, but at
least she has curves. I would give anything to add some curvature
to this rail thin body of mine.

I
toss the Spanx into my luggage and
move on to the next:

2. Double sided tape is a
MUST!!! Oh, and don’t forget to pack a little extra padding for
yourself. Flat chests are a no - no on my big day.

Oh, the nerve of her. Just
because I am not as well endowed as she is, doesn’t mean she has to
remind me. I storm into my closet, rip out my strapless padded
push-up bra and a roll of double sided tape to stuff into my
luggage.

3.
Breath mints. I prefer Altoids, but a Clorets will do.
Stephanie always has raunchy breath. It is your duty to make sure
she has a pack at all times.

I am actually starting to
wonder if Jessica is losing her mind. I am not running out right
now to grab a million packs of Altoids to have on hand at any given
moment. She can purchase them herself at the gift shop inside the
airport tomorrow morning. If she wants to micro-manage our friend
Stephanie’s breath mint consumption, then all the power to her. I
will not.

I scroll down
the list
and come across one
ridiculous request after another:

4. “Something Borrowed” –
You are in charge of this. It better be good. Or else…

5. Completed first draft
of MOH speech. (Hopefully you have already completed the second
draft, but I am giving you a little leeway here)

6. Aspirin (I may need
this after the Bachelorette party…You know how I get…)

7. Turquoise
Bridesmaid Dress (If this is forg
otten you are a dead woman!!!!)

Number seven makes me
chuckle. To some, this obvious item may be a given, but Jessica
knows me well enough to know I would forget my head if it weren’t
attached to my body.

I move my finger all the
way down her impressive list to item number 105. I think my heart
stops when I see the one thing I don’t want to do:

105. Get
Emily Waterford to answer all work related calls.

I cringe at
Jessica’s request. She doesn’t understand how being a realtor in
the city of Chicago is not a life of freedom. After Jessica quit
her glorified party-planning career in public relations, following
Michael
’s recent graduation
from Med School, she has forgotten what life is actually like for a
single workingwoman.

I turn
bee
t red, when I see item
number 105 is followed up with a subsection:

105.1. These
calls
cannot
, under any
circumstance be forwarded to Ben’s phone. I don’t care that you
work for the same company, and I don’t care if he is wheeling and
dealing his listings from Costa Rica. YOU WILL NOT!!! Understand? I
need your focus to be on the wedding and me, not what property you
have listed this week.

Uggh! How did
she know I was thinking of tricking her and doing that? I will have
to text Emily and let her know I will need her assistance after
all. I am sure Ben won’t mind though, he has enough clients to keep
his phone ringing off the hook all week while we are away. At least
this way, Ben and I won’t have to sneak around behind Jessica’s
back to transfer any
work
related messages.

My phone vibrates on my
nightstand. I jump with fright and snatch it up in my fingers. I
secretly hope it’s the Wilson’s ready to make an offer on that
spacious four-bedroom ranch style house in suburbia…

But it isn’t, it’s
Ben.


Hey there
pretty lady.” He laughs into the phone, and I can tell he may have
had a few too many drinks. During our college years, whenever Ben
drank alcohol, he seemed to turn into a cowboy, even though he has
never been to any wide-open spaces, or even seen a
horse.


What do you
want?” I laugh into the phone and continue to make checkmarks along
Jessica’s list.


Where are
you?” He asks.


At home
packing and going over the maid-of-honor checklist Jessica made
me.” I chuckle and hear Ben do the same. I pause and listen to the
murmur of voices in the background and ask, “Where are
you?”


Are you hungry?” he
asks completely avoiding my question. I glance at the clock
and see it is already quarter after seven.


Maybe,” I
tease, “Shouldn’t you be at home? We leave early in the morning,
remember?”


I had a date,
but I think it’s safe to say I was stood up. I’ve been waiting here
for over an hour." He sighs into the phone.


Are you
serious?” I laugh and think something like this would only happen
to Ben. He always dates the same type; blonde, young, and
dumb.


Laugh it up
chuckles.” Ben moans, “Anyway, I am a block away from your place at
Third Rail Tavern. Do you want to meet me for a bite to eat or
what?”

I glance down
into my suitcase, a disorderly heap of last year’s summer
ou
tfits. I contemplate
telling him no, worried Jessica would freak if she knew I went out
without completing my checklist. But when my stomach begins to
rumble, I decide I have no other choice. Besides, it's just a
couple of harmless hours. If Ben is allowed to be out and about and
he is Michael’s best man, then I don’t see what the big deal
is.


Alright, I
will be there in twenty minutes” I say and flip my suitcase
shut.

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