Alisha: This is gibberish
Big: UR singing w/my band 1 night. Practice on Wed.
Alisha: No
Big: Quit getting ur panties in a twist over everything…oh, wait. UR not wearing any!
Alisha: Eat a bag of hell and die!
Big: LOL! I enjoy ur wit and tits alike, Larrington!
She wanted to break his stupid face.
Instead, she called up Maggie. She'd stupidly avoided her yesterday and if she hadn't done so, she wouldn't be in the mess she was in now.
"Well, well, look who it is," Maggie greeted shortly. "Glad to see you still know how to get a hold of the person you supposedly consider your best friend."
Alisha winced. Maggie's worry had turned into annoyance and Alisha knew that was because she'd hurt her friend's feelings by not talking to her yesterday when the article came out. "I'm sorry I didn't take any of your calls last night."
"Hmph," she sniffed.
"Can you please come over?" Alisha asked, her throat suddenly grew tight and she thought she might very well be on the verge of a mental breakdown.
"Are you okay?" Maggie asked, concern flooding her voice.
"No," Alisha cried dramatically. "Things are seriously crazy and bad and I did something so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
"On my way," she said, and the line went dead.
"…and then I slammed the door in his face."
Maggie's jaw hung open as she sat blinking owlishly at Alisha. A little squeak of shock was the only sound she'd made in the last thirty seconds. Alisha squirmed uneasily waiting for her best friend to say something for the love of God. She braced herself for an oncoming lecture, or maybe to be swept hurriedly out of the apartment to the nearest nuthouse to be fitted for a straightjacket. (It was a mental breakdown. She was sure.) What she hadn't expected was the hearty outburst of hysterical laughter.
"Oh…my…God…Alisha!" Maggie's laughter turned to cackling and continued until she was on the ground and sound was no longer coming out of her mouth. She was—wheezing—like a ninety-year-old asthmatic with emphysema.
"Maggie! It's not funny!" Alisha scolded, which only made her blonde friend laugh even harder. Huffing out an exasperated breath, she flopped back against the couch and covered her head with a pillow, hoping to just snuff the life out of herself. It smelled like his cologne and she tossed it across the room like a hot potato, knocking over a DVD rack.
After what felt like an eternity, her best friend began to regain her composure and sat up, wiping the tears away from her eyes. "Jesus, Lisha…thanks for the laugh. I think my abs have gotten enough of a workout today now that I can skip the gym."
"Har dee har har," Alisha pouted.
"I just have one question for you though," Maggie said, putting on her serious face.
Alisha eyed her suspiciously. "Yes?"
"Why in the hell aren't you having sex with him right now?"
It was Alisha's turn to be speechless. And speechless she was as she stared at Maggie like she'd just sprouted another head. "I—I—what? Maggie, did you not hear a single word I said? Big is an asshole of biblical proportions!"
"But one that is hot as balls and one that youuu kissssed!" she trilled in a sing-song voice.
Grabbing another pillow off the couch, she lobbed it at Maggie's head. "I was drunk! I wasn't in my right mind."
"And you were in your right mind when you flashed him your business stone sober? He gets you so worked up, Alisha. I've never seen anyone get under your skin the way he does."
"Whatever," she mumbled, wanting to put the whole incident behind her. "I wish I'd called you last night."
"Sorry, love, I'm already seeing someone," Maggie winked, smiling at her friend's annoyed expression. She reached for the newspaper and the napkin on the coffee table and looked them over again. "That is so fun that you're going to sing with the band one night."
"I'm not," Alisha vehemently said, getting up off the sofa to set the DVD rack to rights.
"Yes, you are," Maggie said matter-of-factly, not looking up from the napkin as she tried to decode the drawings.
"No, I'm not! Maggie!" Alisha stomped her foot. (She was going for a personal record today)
"Alisha! It's my birthday wish. You always give me one, and that's it. Oh, damn, I should've said that it was for you and Big to screw yourselves into oblivion. Can I change—?"
"I'll sing!" Alisha agreed quickly. "I'll sing with them."
Maggie rubbed her hands together excitedly. "Excellent! Now, let's talk about my birthday party."
The next time Big saw her again she was in the middle of the dance floor with Maggie and Russell dancing and singing to Baby Got Back. Her dress, if that could even be counted as one, was black and strapless and indecently short. He fucking loved it. God what he wouldn't give to—
"Big!" James called, snapping his fingers in front of his face.
"Huh?" Big asked, dazed.
"Here's your beer. And a napkin for the drool," James teased.
Big rolled his eyes and sneered. "Shut the fuck up, dude. We've been over this."
James smiled crookedly over his drink at his poor, clueless friend. "I think you actually like her. I know I do because she wants nothing to do with your bullshit."
"Some friend you are, asshole," Big tossed back acerbically. He sipped his beer and went back to watching Alisha dance. Christ, she could move.
"Maggie's motioning me over, I'm going to go dance," James said.
Big snorted. "Have fun with that, white boy."
James's face scrunched up in confusion. "What? We're both white."
"I meant that you've got no rhythm, dude," Big laughed. "Hopefully you're better in bed than you are on the dance floor or else you're not going to keep that hot girlfriend of yours around very long."
"You can be such a prick sometimes, Big," James grumbled and walked away.
Great. Now he'd gone and pissed his best friend off. He was only kidding. Mostly. James was a shitty dancer—it was like common knowledge. He seemed
