Page 116 of Tame Me

I headed away from the hotel in the direction of Mermaid Beach Surf Club. The afternoon sun blazed on my right cheek, and I adjusted my cap at an angle so I didn’t get sunburnt. I picked up my pace and set a steady jog on the firm sand. Sucking in the ocean air and absorbing the sun on my skin was the perfect way to spend the last day of the year.

About a half-mile past the surf club, I stopped, pulled off my shoes and socks, and started my return journey home. As I strolled along the water’s edge with the waves splashing against my ankles, it was impossible not to think about Corben. His ideas of fun made me smile.

Corben was an interesting man—a man who knew what he wanted and went after it. Although I was going to miss him, I was glad we’d said goodbye. He wasn’t the man for me, and even though it had been a shocking reality at the time, it was true.

As the waves tumbled to the shore, I tried to focus on nature’s therapeutic melody rather than the endless pairs of people who strolled toward me holding hands. It seemed like I was surrounded by couples. Young couples, couples with kids, elderly couples, same-sex couples. Everyone had a partner but me.

Before I succumbed to the failure vibes that threatened to grip me, I made a beeline for the Blue Haven Café, sat in my favorite spot, and ordered a glass of wine with a serving of lasagna and salad. With all the drinking I was planning on doing tonight, I needed to line my stomach with some serious food.

As I savored the tasty pasta dish and sipped my wine, I forced my brain to focus only on all things good and special in my life. First up was my fabulous relationship with the most amazing best friend in the world. My life wouldn’t be as interesting as it was without Lolita in it. And her family, for that matter—they were just as special to me as she was.

There was my awesome shoe collection. I was pretty sure there weren’t too many women who could boast about a collection like mine. There was also my family, my job, my apartment, my finances, my health—even my boobies, apparently, were pretty special.

I giggled.

The list went on and on, and by the time I headed back up to my room to get ready for Lolita’s party, I was primed for a fun night.

I showered, applied a good dose of party makeup, but not too much that I slipped from Jane to Memphis, styled my hair the same way I’d done for my dad’s sixtieth birthday, and applied a touch of rose lipstick.

I decided to wear the dress I’d bought the day I’d had my stupid fake nails removed. According to Lolita, post-breakup shopping was compulsory. And despite my reluctance, after the nails were gone, I’d wandered Pacific Fair aimlessly, hoping for a shopping miracle. I held up the little black dress that had been the result of that trip.

It was a cute sleeveless number that alternated horizontally between sheer lace and black fabric that conveniently covered all the important body parts. The flared skirt was short, stopping high on my thigh, and the dress came in to accentuate my waist.

I put on matching black lingerie of French knickers and a strapless bra and pulled the dress on. The zipper in the back was a bitch to do up, but once it was in place, I turned to the mirror. It looked good. Simple, yet stylish.

I added some color with my orange Aquazzura Wild Things suede stilettos that had a funky leather frill at the front and two leather straps that I wrapped around and around my ankles several times and tied off at the tasseled ends. Keeping with the orange theme, I put on dangly orange crystal earrings and a chunky orange bangle.

I glanced in the mirror at the finished result and declared it perfect for a New Year’s Eve party.

With my tote over my shoulder, I grabbed my bag containing three bottles of Bollinger, walked out my door, traveled down in the elevator, out the hotel entrance, and along the street toward the tram station.

I didn’t have to wait long at the station, and within two minutes, I was sitting on the tram on my way to Lolita’s. Fifteen minutes later, I stepped out at Main Beach station and walked to Lolita’s house.

Other than the abundant crowds and the overt party atmosphere, my trip to her place was uneventful. I pushed through her front door without knocking, like I always did, and went straight to the kitchen. Lolita sat on the kitchen counter with her husband locked in her leg embrace as she spooned something into his open mouth.

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” Aware that I’d interrupted something, I backed away.

“Jane, hey, babe. Don’t be sorry. We were just having a moment. But it’s okay, moment’s over.” She giggled at Cal, and he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

He walked my way and wrapped his arms around me. “Happy new year. You look amazing.”

“Thank you.”

He took my drinks bag off me and set it on the kitchen counter.

“Holy smokes, babe, you look hot. New dress?” Lolly circled her hand in the air, and I spun around.

I nodded. “Post-Hunter breakup shopping.”

“Niiicce. I told you it’d be worth it.”

I chuckled. “So . . . what do you want me to do?”

“You can help me with this cooking. Cal keeps distracting me.” Lolly rolled her eyes at him.

“You love it.” He clutched his heart, feigning shock.

“You know I do—that’s why it’s distracting. Now shoo. Go and get ice or something.”

---