Rusty Nailed
Page 7

“I hate him,” she whispered, drawing a shuddering breath. “And I miss him.”
“We know, sweetie,” Mimi said, drawing Sophia’s hand into hers.
I leaned over and gave Sophia my napkin, which she used to wipe her eyes. She looked down at her sweatshirt, rumpled and stained.
“I kind of stink,” she said with a grimace.
“We know, sweetie,” Mimi said again, which cracked a smile out of Sophia for the first time in a while.
A little pink crept back into her cheeks. She pulled a ponytail holder out of her purse and wrapped her messy hair back into a bun, out of her face. She glanced up as the waiter came to bring our food, her eyes growing huge when she realized the mounds of food she’d ordered. Once he had left, she unfolded her napkin and tucked it in her lap.
“Okay, no more wallowing. I ordered it, so I’ll eat it. But starting this afternoon, no more wallowing includes no more eating like a thirteen-year-old boy.”
“Boys that age have to eat like that. They have to keep up their strength for their many boners a day,” Mimi said matter-of-factly, separating her blueberries from her raspberries, then lining them up on the side of her plate like tiny cannonballs. Sophia and I stared at her as she went on to explain the extreme impact of boners on the social lives of junior high boys. As related to her by her fiancé, apparently an expert.
“Ryan really told you all this?” I asked as I sipped my smoothie.
“Yep, he said when he was that age, he couldn’t keep his hands out of his pants for the life of him,” she prattled, oblivious to the attention the table behind us was now giving her.
“You and Ryan sure seem to share a lot,” Sophia said, shaking her head incredulously as Mimi demonstrated a particular “technique” that had been employed by the teenage Ryan.
“Okay, okay, no more!” I protested, waving my hands. “It’s enough that I won’t be able to look him in the eye next time I see him; no more yanky-wanky details. Let’s change the subject— Who has news?”
The gossip section of breakfast had officially begun.
“Okay, I’ll start. I found out the Palace of Fine Arts is available; looks like that’s where my reception will be!” Mimi sang.
“Jillian asked me to head up the team bidding on the Claremont Hotel redesign in Sausalito,” I offered.
“I’ve spent the last three weeks in a dark cloud, so I got nothing. But did you know that my hair is long enough that if I lean back far enough I can sit on it?” Sophia volunteered.
We chewed.
“I had a client ask me if I’d mind organizing her  p**n  collection,” Mimi said.
“I might have ordered a  p**n  collection at three in the morning a few days ago,” Sophia told the inside of her sweatshirt.
“Simon came home early last night and surprised me. So I had some live-action  p**n .”
“He came home early? Wow, that’s impressive. Seems like lately he’s been traveling more than usual,” Mimi commented, eating the cannonballs in alternating order. Blueberry. Raspberry.
“Yeah, he has been busier than normal. What can I say? My boyfriend is the darling of the photography world.” I grinned, flushing when I thought about how sexy he looked when he was working.
“I don’t know how you guys do that, be apart so much. I’d die if I didn’t see Ryan every day—I’d just die!” Mimi exclaimed. Blueberry. Raspberry. “I don’t know how you don’t miss him like crazy!”
“Of course I miss him—some weeks it’s really hard. But this is who he is, this is how he’s always been, and we make it work. Honestly? Sometimes it’s kind of great: I have my time, he has his time, and then when he’s home, it’s our time.” I swiped my finger through a little bit of Sophia’s whipped cream, barely evading the tines of her fork. “Anyway, I like the idea that we’re not a couple who has to sleep together every night. Admit it. Don’t you sometimes miss having the bed all to yourself?”
Mimi instantly began shaking her head, while Sophia just avoided eye contact.
“Okay, change of subject again. Let’s talk about the wedding. The wedding of the century”—I started, then backpedaled as soon as I saw Mimi’s look—“at least until Mimi here takes that mantle. Until she does, though, Jillian is going for it! And wait until you see Benjamin’s tux. Good lord, the man can wear tails like nobody’s business.”
At the mention of Benjamin everyone perked up, even Sophia. The category of sexy older man had been created specifically with him in mind, and we all sighed together.
“Anyway, we gotta start thinking about dates for you, young lady. Who are you thinking about taking?” I asked, looking at Sophia. She turned white.
“Ah shit, I didn’t even think about that! Neil’s going, isn’t he?” she asked, her expression panicked. She looked down at herself, then back up at us. “Ack, I can’t let him see me looking like this! What’s he going to think? He’s gonna think I’m, like, on the floor in a puddle over him!”
Mimi started to interject, but I placed a hand on her arm and shook my head as Sophia went on.
“And what if he brings someone? Shit, he’s totally bringing someone, isn’t he? Isn’t he? That’s it—that ass**le; he thinks he can show me? He thinks he’s gonna get the better of me? Hell no, not on my watch. Stupid overgrown boy-looking sportscaster motherfucker.”
This entire conversation was had by Sophia alone as she grabbed her purse and headed back toward the bathroom.
Once she was gone, I grabbed the rest of her waffles and divided them between my plate and Mimi’s. We clinked forks and tucked in for a few minutes.
“Do you think he’s bringing someone?” I asked.
“I’m sure he is. I’ve tried asking Ryan about it, but he’s claiming guy code, or bros before hos, or something ridiculous like that.”
“Same with Simon. I wonder if they—” I stopped as Sophia exited the bathroom.
The sweatshirt was now tied around her waist, the revealed tank top tight. Her hair was braided, bangs swept back revealing a clean, shining face. Lip gloss had been added; a little blush too. The girl was stunning once more; you just can’t keep that kind of beauty buried for too long. But what made every man and more than a few women do a double take were her double D’s. Accentuated more than ever by the purposeful rip she’d given her tank top, perfectly highlighting each D to its full potential.