Boycotts and Barflies

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Grace Park found herself on yet another bad date … the story of her life, or so it seemed. The Italian restaurant was dimly lit, with the smells of garlic and tomatoes filling the air around her. The clanking of dishes rang in her ears as she intently studied the red and white checkered tablecloth underneath her fingertips. She pushed the crumbs that fell from her breadstick into a small pile, all the while wondering just how much longer she would have to endure this torture. The long black waves of her hair hung around her face, providing a veil of privacy as she escaped into her own little world, trying to pass the time.  She glanced up when she heard her name called and saw her date, Tony, looking at her with an irritated expression on his face.

“Sorry, I  zoned. You were saying … something about that new computer program at work? I’m listening, I swear.”

Tony worked for an insurance company—not the most exciting of careers to discuss over dinner. He had been driveling on endlessly about accident rates in the Pacific Northwest since they had arrived at the restaurant. There was nothing particularly attractive about the man; his brown hair was cut very short to his scalp to hide just how much it was starting to thin at the crown, even at his young age. His brown eyes were hidden behind thin, wire -framed glasses that looked a bit too small for his face, and his skin was so pale that with his narrow build, one might wonder about his health. Work consumed his

every

waking hour, and  to him, it was utterly fascinating. To the rest of the world,  however, Grace included, it was boring as hell.

Grace casually glanced at her watch and realized she had only been there for  thirty minutes. It only felt like an eternity. She silently cursed herself for not  having the nerve to make up another excuse when she ran into him outside the  elevator of their apartment building. Unfailingly persistent, Tony had asked  her out for the fifth time in a month, and even though it shouldn’t have, the  question caught her completely off guard. It had been a really long day and she  hadn’t seen him coming quickly enough to be able to prepare a believable lie.  Before she knew what happened, the word “sure” had slipped out of her  mouth, and now, as a result, she was enduring the longest and most boring  night of her life.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and again glanced at her watch,  wondering how long it would be until she would get her reprieve. It

shouldn’t be much longer, she told herself. Like an answer to her unspoken

prayer, Grace’s cell phone rang in her pocket. She peeked down at the small,  silver object and noticed the caller ID.

Thank God! I’m almost free …

“I’m so sorry; I need to get this. I told Meg not to bother me unless it was an  absolute emergency.”

Yes, Grace was using one of the oldest tricks in the book: having her girlfriend  call midway through the date with an “emergency” so she could bail if it was a  disaster or the guy was creepy. This date qualified o n both counts. Unfortunately for Grace, these bail outs seemed to be happening a lot on her  dates lately; so much so, in fact, that she made sure she went to church  regularly so God wouldn’t be tempted to actually give her mom a real illness as  a punish -ment for all of the lying that she had been doing about her mother’s  health.

“Meg, I told you not to call unless it’s an emergency. I’m on a date with Tony.”  Grace gave an apologetic smile and mouthed the word “sorry” to him for extra  effect.

He shrugged like it was no big deal and took a sip of his wine, watching the waitress in a low cut sweater bend over and pour wine at the table next to them.

“So, does he suck as badly as I said he would?” Meg giggled into the phone.

Grace heard Bianca scream in the background, “I warned you!”

“I had no idea,” Grace answered vaguely, trying not to burst into laughter and

tip off Tony that the call was anything but a serious emergency.

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“Oh, come on! He practically has ‘dull’ tattooed across his forehead, and he’s

the worst dresser. So, you need a rescue, right? What story are you going to use  today? Mom’s in the hospital, Mom took a nasty fall, or Mom got hit by a bus?  You know those would require extra prayers this week,” Meg teased.

“That’s terrible,” Grace quipped back, biting her cheek to keep from laughing.

A giant smile would not sell an emergency to Tony, and right now she was  desperate to get out of this dinner. She sucked it up and prepared for an Oscarworthy performance.

Tony lo oked confused as he watched her, trying to decipher her end of the  conversation and get some idea of what the call was all about.

Grace sighed into the phone and pressed the receiver more tightly to her ear to  hide Meg’s cheery voice as much as possible.

“OK, it’s that bad, huh? Going for maximum impact, ready to bolt immediately?  Well, I don’t know what you were thinking in accepting the date; he isn’t even  cute, Grace. Just because he lives in the building doesn’t mean you have to go

on a date with him. You should have just said no or told him we were lesbians

… or something. God, we seriously need to discuss raising your standards when  it comes to men when you get home. Put him out of his misery.

Go with the naked mom story. The movie starts in fifteen.”  With that parting bit  of advice, Meg hung up on her. Fortunately for Grace, Meg talked incredibly  fast, so it only took her seconds to relay the entire message.

At the end of Meg’s tirade, Grace dropped her head into her hands and  prepared to sell her sad  story to Tony.

“Of course I understand … No, thank you so much for letting me know, Meg. I’ll  meet you there,” Grace said into the silent phone. Then she snapped it shut and  tossed her napkin onto the table.

“Tony, I have to go.” She proceeded to replay her favorite sob story of her  schizophrenic mom who had forgotten to take her meds and was found naked  in a phone booth downtown. Grace turned on the waterworks, a gift she had  that came in quite handy at times like these. A few apologies and a doggie bag

later—no point in wasting perfectly good food when there were starving  people in the world, not to mention the fact that leftovers were Meg’s required  payment for saving her—and Grace ran out of the restaurant into the chilly  Portland air.

Free at last, free at last, she thought with a smile on her face as she happily jumped into her car and cranked the radio. With new- found excitement, she made her way home to join her two best friends and get as far away from Tony as possible.

3

y

Grace smelled the popcorn as soon as she stepped off of the elevator.

Meg and Bianca must be close to starting the movie, she thought as she rushed

down the hall, not wanting to be late.

“Hi, honeys! I’m home.” Grace came  through the door and gently tossed her

keys into the wicker basket on the counter.

Meg and Bianca were perched on the couch, remote control and popcorn in

hand. “Grace,” they squealed in delight, “you escaped!”

Bianca, Meg, and Grace had been best friends  for nearly four years. They met

during their sophomore year of college, and after a horrible time living with

insane roommates in the dorms, they decided to get an apartment together  their junior year and had been living together ever since.

Bianca and Meg graduated with undergraduate degrees in interior design and  currently worked at Baker Design House in downtown Portland. They had

been there for the last year and a half, and even though they were only twentyfour years old, they had started to make quite a name for themselves. They  were becoming two of the most highly sought after young designers in town. Grace was the same age as her friends, but she was still in school and would be  graduating in June with her Master’s in Literature. In the meantime, she was  teaching English Lit classes at the local community col ege. The classes she  taught didn’t make her a ton of money to live on, but her parents were very  supportive of her education and were helping her financially until she finished  her degree and could get a full-time job at the university.

Even with successful jobs and graduate level educations, the girls still found  themselves failing with men. These days, they were in the midst of a “dating  drought” as they liked to call it. It seemed none of them  could find a decent guy  for any sort of long term relationship. They had been going on a series of  random dates that ranged from bad to disgusting on the date scale. Lately,

their Friday nights involved one or two of them ending a bad date early, a big  bowl of popcorn, and a “chick flick” to take their minds off of their misery. Grace glanced over at the couch and saw the leggy redhead stretched out there,  flipping through a magazine. “Bianca, what are you doing home already?

You had a date, too. How’d you  get home before me?” Bianca had left for her  date at the same time as Grace, but she had already been home and screaming  in the background when Meg called Grace at the restaurant.

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Bianca blushed furiously at the question . She had very high standards when it came to guys. To Bianca, chemistry with a guy was everything, and if she didn’t feel it immediately, she wasn’t going to wait around for it to blossom. That was  Bianca. She was a strong, beautiful woman, and she needed a man that was her equal; that was just how she was wired. If it was a blind date, she always had the guy wear a red rose on his lapel so she could check him out before she actually went so far as to introduce herself to him, giving her the option to walk away if she wasn’t attracted to him. Of course, even the good looks and chemistry would only get a guy so far. He’d better have a brain and a personality to back it up, or she would leave him the first chance she got.

Meg wasn’t nearly as bad as Bianca, but she was a hopeless romantic, looking for her one true love, convinced she would know him on sight. Her personality was quirky and wonderful. She too went on many first dates, but very few second dates for just that reason. Sometimes Grace envied Meg’s faith in true love and happy endings more than she cared to admit.

Bianca laughed darkly, and then launched into the story of her disastrous date as the previews played on the TV. “You know I hate blind dates. I did it as a favor to this girl at work, and after seeing this guy, I’m not sure I’m going to ever speak to Cindy again! He was this scrawny blond guy with a cheesy mustache! I mean really, when have I ever liked a guy with facial hair? Ugh! I gave the hostess twenty dollars to tell him I threw up in  the parking lot,” she said, completely unashamed of her actions.

Bianca was not one to waste her time with being nice; she always cut to the chase. Grace was glad Bianca liked her, because she wouldn’t want to be on her bad side.

The girls joined Grace in  the kitchen and plopped down onto the bar stools across the counter. Grace smiled as she looked at them, so opposite in looks but similarly dazzling.

Bianca’s long, red hair hung down past the middle of her back, thick and straight. Her blue eyes were mesmerizing and framed with thick, lush eyelashes.

Blessed with a wonderful metabolism, she had a curvy, womanly body to die for without ever going to the gym. Women were jealous of her; men were enamored instantly. Throw in a pair of killer legs that went on  for miles, she

was gorgeous.

Meg was average in height, but next to Bianca’s long legs, everyone looked tiny.

Her small frame and currently chocolate brown hair made her a much more

exotic beauty. Always a work in progress, she changed her hair color as often

as 5

some women changed their nail color. Last month it had been platinum blond  with pink highlights. No matter what, her deep blue eyes shone under the veil  of her thick hair, twinkling with life, just like Meg herself. While average in  stature, Meg had one of the biggest personalities you would ever come across. Everyone she ever met remembered her. Her smile lit up a room, and people  just naturally gravitated to her warmth and happiness.

Grace placed the foil swan with her leftovers in front of Meg. “Thank you for saving me from Tony the Dull,” she said with a bow as she stood across the

counter.

“No problem, but next time, please listen to us when we tell you someone isn’t  right for you. We’re designers, for goodness s ake; we can tell when things go  together and when they don’t. It’s what we do.” Meg rolled her eyes and  dramatically snapped the neck of the swan, digging into the leftovers. It was  her silliness that Grace loved most about her.

“So I guess we’re the big losers this weekend, Bianca. At least I got a decent  appetizer out of it and Meg got a foil swan of lasagna.” Grace laughed, trying  her best to be a “glass half full” girl.

Bianca shrugged her shoulders. “True, but that’s also an  hour of your life you’ll  never get back, an hour wasted—on a dork. I, however, spent my hour  productively shopping! Look at these fabulous shoes I found.” She squealed as  she threw her foot into the air revealing a sleek black stiletto.

After an extensive  discussion about the versatility of black patent leather heels  in one’s fall wardrobe, Grace let out a loud sigh. “Girls, what are we going to do  about all these losers we’ve been going on dates with? Where are all the good  guys hiding?”