Beg For Me: Chapter 11

It’s the third Tuesday night of the month. Which means I’m at the Ivy restaurant with my best friends, Val and Evelyn, eating dinner, drinking wine, and gabbing.

It’s been our ritual since we graduated college. The three of us went to UCLA together, met around the keg at a party at a frat house, and have been inseparable ever since.

We took Val to the ER after someone spiked her beer with Rohypnol that night. Trauma bonding can really cement a friendship.

“Bitch, if you eat all that salsa before I can even get a chip in there, I’ll cut you.”

I smile at Val. “Sure you will.”

“I one hundred percent will!”

“With what? Sarcasm? You’re the least violent person I’ve ever met.”

She twirls a lock of her curly dark hair between two fingers and smiles back at me. Behind a thick pair of glasses, her big green eyes shine. “I could be violent if I wanted to. I just don’t want to. Nobody’s got time for that.”

“I’ve got time for that,” says Ev, swirling a glass of French white. She’s the fair one of the group, with flaxen hair and skin so pale, it glows. Tall and willowy, she looks like an elf queen from a Tolkien book. “In fact, I almost murdered someone today.”

“Again?” Val doesn’t seem surprised.

“Listen, this guy had it coming! Wait til I tell you what he did.”

“I know what he did. He breathed wrong, and you decided he deserved to die.”

Ev thinks about that for a moment. “Pretty much. Perimenopause is no joke, girls.”

I laugh. “Tell me about it. I had to get up in the middle of the night twice last week to change my nightgown because it was soaking wet.”

Val makes a noise of sympathy. “You’re getting hot flashes?”

“No, just the night sweats so far. My days haven’t been affected. You?”

“Big time. I was standing in the checkout line at Whole Foods, hoping nobody would notice the boob sweat soaking through my blouse. I’m gonna have to start wearing undershirts.”

Ev snorts. She manages to make it sound elegant. “At least you’re not dealing with the mood swings yet. I’ve got three new personalities, and they’re all batshit.”

Val’s smile is affectionate. “Babe, you were always batshit.”

“Yeah, but now I’m weepy, sleepy, snappy, and batshit. This is why I call BS when people say God is a woman.”

Val sighs. “Here we go.”

“Shut up. First, a woman would never make mistakes like cancer, aging, and putting a man’s G spot inside his ass but then making anal sex a sin. But also, a female deity would never make women go through menopause. Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, your life is finally under control, and you’re thriving, boom! Bye-bye estrogen, hello facial hair, belly fat, and total loss of libido. I feel like my whole body just pulled the welcome mat and said ‘Fuck it. We’re closing up shop.’”

“Loss of Libido? Are you and Brian still having sex?”

“He’s having sex with me, but I’m lying there thinking about all the things I’d rather be doing. I literally have no interest at all. I’d feel bad for him, but I’m too busy being annoyed by every word that comes out of his mouth. He caught me staring at him across the dinner table the other night and asked what I was thinking. I couldn’t tell him I was wishing he’d move to Alaska, so I just poured another glass of wine and tried not to cry. Twenty minutes later, I was enraged by a cat food commercial and shouting at the TV. My poor kids. They must think their mother was abducted by aliens and replaced with a shrew.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I asked my mother how long this crap lasts, and she said for her it was ten years before she felt sane again.”

We murmur our collective horror at the situation. The waiter arrives with our food and distributes the plates. I order another round of drinks for the table, then attack my chicken salad. I’ve been ravenous all day.

That might have something to do with last night. Carter gave me an amazing orgasm with his mouth, but when he left, I still wanted more.

I wanted everything.

Which is why I’m glad he left when he did. If I woke up with him in my bed this morning, there might have been no turning back.

I have a bad habit of falling for men after I have sex with them, as if my heart isn’t located in my chest but somewhere deep inside my vagina.

We chat for a while, catching up, until Val asks around a mouthful of salmon, “Anything new with Nick?”

I’m about to answer when she chokes on her food, coughing fish out onto her plate.

“Jesus, girl, you eat like a buffalo.”

Her eyes watering, Val wheezes, “Fuck off, Evelyn. You have never once seen a fucking buffalo eat.”

“You know what I’m saying. You’re a mess.”

“And you’re a nutcase. Look into hormone replacement before I unfriend you.”

“I don’t want to give myself cancer, thank you very much.”

“HRT doesn’t cause cancer. Read the studies.”

“Yeah, they didn’t think DDT caused cancer either. Look what happened there.”

Because I know they’ll bicker back and forth like an old married couple for an hour, I distract them before things go completely off the rails. “Nick took Harlow to Cabo for a vacation.”

“Just the two of them?” asks Ev.

“Oh no. Brittany went with.”

Recovered from her coughing attack, Val shudders. “How weird for Harlow that her wicked stepmother is almost as young as she is.”

“Brittany’s not wicked. She’s just misguided. I actually feel sorry for her.”

Ev sips her wine and shakes her head. “You’re a saint. I would’ve clawed out her eyes the second I found out they were sleeping together.”

“She wasn’t the one committing adultery. Anyway, I’m better off now.”

Thinking of last night, I smile. It isn’t lost on Val. She’s especially attentive to people’s expressions. I think she would have been be an incredible criminal interrogator, but instead she’s a contract attorney.

“What’s that smirk for? You put new batteries in the vibrator?”

“I had a date. It went well.”

“Yeah? How well?”

“It ended in an epic orgasm.”

Brows raised, Ev and Val look at each other, then back at me. Ev says, “Keep talking before I stab you.”

“We went to dinner at Nobu—”

“For God’s sake, cut to the chase! Nobody cares where you went to dinner. Talk about the epic orgasm. I need to live vicariously.”

“Okay. Well, he was on his knees. I was standing with my back against the front door. Then he kissed me goodnight and went home. It was lovely.”

I eat more salad as my girlfriends gape at me. Then Ev turns to Val and muses, “Does she think I won’t break every plate on this table if she doesn’t keep talking?”

“There’s not much more to tell.”

Ev pounds her fist on the tabletop, making the silverware jump and clatter. “Are you kidding me? I will carve out your heart with that bread stick.”

“Maybe Val’s right about the hormones, love. You’re maniacal.”

When she grabs a bread stick from the wicker basket in the middle of the table and waves it menacingly at me, I hold up my hands in surrender, laughing. “Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”

“What’s his name?”

“Carter.”

The girls share an approving glance. Val says, “Sounds like a hottie.”

“Oh, he’s a hottie all right. He’s so hot, he gives me third-degree burns.”

“How did you meet him? Online?”

“I’ve actually known him for a while. We attended a business meeting together last year. He’s on the board of another company that wanted to buy mine. Then I ran into him again at the gym over the weekend and he asked me out.”

Ev says, “So he’s a suit.”

“Why do you sound disapproving?”

“Nick’s a suit too.”

“So? Am I only allowed to date blue-collar workers now?”

“I’m just saying you have a type. Hot suits with giant egos and a tendency for dickish behavior.”

“I can’t deny Carter has an ego, but he definitely isn’t dickish. He’s actually quite sweet.”

“Ego and dickery go hand in hand, dummy.”

“No, I’m serious.”

Val purses her lips and issues a challenge. “Like how is he sweet?”

I think about it for a moment. “He’s vulnerable.”

“What does that mean?”

“He talks about how he feels. He’s very in touch with his emotions.”

Ev looks incredulous. “In touch with his emotions? What is he, a family therapist?”

“I already told you he’s an executive.”

“This is highly suspicious. What man our age do you know who talks about how he feels? None. They’d rather eat shards of glass and walk a mile barefoot over burning coals.”

Val agrees, nodding. “Sounds like he was just trying to get into your underwear.”

“You’re right, Ev. I don’t know any men our age who talk about their feelings. But he’s not our age.”

Val pulls a face. “You’re dating a geezer? How old are we talking? Seventy?”

“No.”

“Older? Oh God. Can he even get it up? Is that why he went down on you, then left?”

“He’s twenty-nine.”

Total silence reigns for a few seconds, then Val whistles. “You’re my hero.”

Ev says, “You’re my superhero. Twenty-nine? That’s like a million years younger than us.”

“I think your math’s off by a hair.”

She laughs. “It might as well be a million years. What did you talk about with a guy in his twenties? The MTV awards and video games?”

Feeling defensive of Carter, I say, “He’s a professional, Ev, not a skater boy. He’s educated. He even speaks Japanese. And he sits the board of the largest and most powerful media company in the world.”

Frowning, Val cocks her head. “Are you talking about McCord Media?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God. You’re dating Carter McCord?”

“Don’t make it sound like a natural disaster. He’s perfectly nice.”

“Nice?” Val cackles. “Yeah, he’s nice all right. He’s nice all over town with every woman he can get his hands on. The guy’s a total player.”

My stomach tightens. “How do you know?”

“My hairdresser dated him for a hot minute. I mean, all they did was fuck, so I don’t think we can technically call it dating, but he ghosted her after she said she wanted to be exclusive.”

Remembering the story on his Wikipedia page about the wild yacht party with the girls’ volleyball team, I feel slightly nauseated. Then I remind myself that was a decade ago while he was in college.

“How long ago was he with your hairdresser?”

“I don’t remember which month, but it was earlier this year. She said she saw in the gossip rags he was linked to a bunch of other women after that, none of them lasting more than a few weeks. She was really sore about it. She felt used.”

My thoughts drift back to last night. Was that look on the hostess’s face at Nobu when she saw us together more than wistfulness? Was it jealousy? Was it hurt?

Did he fuck that girl, toss her aside, then casually offer to have her fired?

The Carter I know wouldn’t be so cruel. But then again, I hardly know him at all.

Two dinners and one orgasm does not a close relationship make.

I moisten my dry mouth with a sip of wine. “Well. If I were single, in my twenties, and had all that money, I’d probably be having a lot of fun too.”

Val and Ev peer at me with identical looks of skepticism. Val says, “Don’t tell me you actually like this guy.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re defending him.”

“I’m merely making the point that he’s not doing anything wrong by enjoying himself.”

They exchange another glance, which gets on my nerves.

“Come on, guys. You’re making too big a deal of this. We went on two dates. We had a little oral. End of story.”

“So you’re not going to see him again?”

“I have no plans to.”

This is technically true, as I still haven’t answered the half dozen texts he sent after he left last night and this morning asking me to let him come over tonight and tongue fuck me again.

Ev pronounces with finality, “Good. Because you went through too much hell with Nick to rebound with some womanizer who goes through girls like pairs of socks.”

I know she’s just being protective, but all this negativity is getting on my nerves. Even if he is a playboy and goes through women like socks, it’s my decision whether or not I see him again.

“Nick and I have been divorced for two years. It’s hardly a rebound. How’s your mom, Val?”

I can tell by her expression that she doesn’t want to let the subject of Carter go, but she decides to have mercy on me and changes the subject.

“We just heard her cancer’s back.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

“My dad’s acting like she has a cold. He’s so dismissive, like she’s making a fuss over nothing.”

“Shutting down is probably just his way of coping with stress. Either that, or he’s in denial because he’s scared.”

She nods, sighing. “Yeah. But that makes it even more stressful for everyone else, feeling like you have to walk around on eggshells. Anyway, both my sisters are with her now. I’m going to fly out to Scottsdale next week to be with her at her first chemo appointment.”

I reach over and squeeze her hand. Ev, who lost both parents to cancer within months of each other last year, squeezes her shoulder. Then we drink in silence, each occupied with our own thoughts.

“How’s your mom, Soph?” says Ev.

“Not great. Will says she’s starting to get incontinent, not to mention mean.”

“More mean? Is that even possible?”

“Apparently. She asked him if he thought she’d go to jail if she smothered him in his sleep.”

Ev chuckles. “She said that to her golden boy, the prince? Wow.”

“That was my reaction. It could be the onset of dementia. I’ve heard people’s personalities can change for the worse. In any case, he wants to put her into assisted living.”

Val says, “And give up the tax benefit he gets for being her primary caretaker? That doesn’t sound like our Will. He’d step over a dying person to pick up the dollar bill on the ground on the other side of them.”

Of course they know about the time he was arrested for stealing when he was a teenager. And the time he forged paperwork to impersonate my father to get a loan. And all the other morally gray things he’s done chasing money that never seem to satisfy his craving for it.

“I think he’s just worn out. I can’t blame him. Five years of caring for Carmelina Bianco would drain the life force out of anyone. So I’ll have to find more money in my budget to share the cost of getting her into a good facility.”

After a moment, Ev says gently, “You know you’re not obligated to do that, right?”

“She’s my mother.”

“It’s not written anywhere that you have to reward bad behavior.”

“No, it’s not. And she’s still my mother.”

Val says, “She treated you like a scullery maid. Cinderella’s evil stepmother was nicer, which is why you worked your ass off to get that scholarship to UCLA. So you could get out of that house of horrors.”

“You make it sound like I grew up with Charles Manson.”

“No. But maybe Cruella de Vil. Do you remember that time she told me I looked like my face had been lit on fire and someone put it out with a shovel?”

I wince at the memory.

My father begged me to come home for Christmas my junior year in college, and I agreed only under the condition a friend could come with me. I needed the emotional support. But I knew as soon as we arrived that it was a mistake. I thought my father would run interference like he usually did, deflecting the worst of my mom’s snide remarks and passive aggressive negativity, but she took one look at Val and sharpened her knives.

Val isn’t a classic beauty, but she’s grown from an awkward teenager into a striking woman who’s smart, funny, and strong. Unfortunately, a person’s good inner qualities don’t matter to someone who doesn’t have any of their own.

We didn’t make it to dinner. On the drive back to campus, I apologized to Val so profusely, she finally told me to shut up.

“You can’t choose your parents,” she said, and we never spoke of it again. Until now.

“Yes, I remember. I’m still kicking myself over my stupidity thinking that she’d behave.”

Val waves that off. “Her BS is on her, not you. The important thing is that you turned out halfway decent despite your awful mother.”

“Halfway decent? Stop, I’m getting teary-eyed.”

She smiles and blows me a kiss.

“Speaking of awful, do you want to hear the bombshell Nick casually dropped on me when he came to pick up Harlow?”

“What is it?”

“Brittany’s pregnant.” I glance down at my salad to escape their twin expressions of dismay. “It was bound to happen. I suppose I just wasn’t expecting it so soon, considering they’re not married yet.”

Ev is livid. “Yeah, and because she’s still a baby herself! I didn’t even think this whole wedding business would actually occur, but now they’re pregnant?”

“How are you sitting with that?” asks Val softly. “You okay?”

“It’s not like I have a choice. It is what it is.”

Ev says hotly, “That fucker. You had to have a hysterectomy because your fibroids were so painful, they were debilitating, but he acted like you were faking it to get out of having another child. Then he hooked up with a girl young enough to be his daughter while you were still married and decides to have another baby with her? Major asshole.”

“We don’t know if it was his decision or not. History is full of women who thought a baby would help keep the relationship together.”

“Oh please. If Nick didn’t want that baby, he’d be out of there so fast, her head would spin. That’s how he is: my way or the highway.”

“She’s right,” agrees Val, nodding. “You know what I think? He’s punishing you.”

“Bingo,” say Ev. “He’s still mad that you left. He thought he could have his cake and eat it too, but he didn’t realize you weren’t playing that game anymore.”

Val sighs. “Men are so disappointing. Sometimes, I think heterosexuality is a curse.”

Ev turns to her, smiling. “Are you trying to tell me you’re in love with me? Because I’ve suspected it for years.”

“Of course you have. You’re the sun in your own little solar system. Honestly, though, I think lesbians have it made. Imagine never having to explain to your partner that period cramps are real.”

Ev nods in agreement. “Or that leaving dirty clothes on the floor next to the laundry basket isn’t the same thing as putting them inside it.”

“Or that caring for your own child isn’t ‘helping out.’”

“Or that saying ‘I love you’ isn’t only for when you’re about to die.”

My phone chimes. I slip it from my purse and look at the screen. It’s a text from Carter.

I’m trying not to worry that you haven’t texted me back all day, but I’m low-key panicking. If I did something wrong, please tell me. I’ll fix it. I’m gaga over you. When can I see you again?

His eagerness unfurls a bud of tenderness beneath my breastbone. I was spot on when I told him he was dangerous, because I only wrestle with myself for seconds before replying.

You didn’t do anything wrong. If you’re free tomorrow night, I’ll cook you dinner. My place. Six.

He answers instantly.

YES FUCK YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES!!!

That’s followed by a gif of SpongeBob SquarePants passing out in a dead faint.

I return the phone to my handbag. When I look up, Val and Ev are still complaining about men.

“Yes,” says Val. “There are great guys out there. The problem is that they’re all gay.”

Before today, I might have agreed with them. Now, I simply sip my wine and think.