Page 86 of Heartfelt Pain
I expected it. There’s no way she wouldn’t have heard about the intervention.
“Have you heard from Ben?” I ask.
She takes a hit of the joint. “Nah.”
“I’ve been fucking Roma Zimin.”
She takes another inhale of weed. “No shit?”
Isolde tends to always sound like she’s asking questions and this time it’s no different.
“How’d that happen?” she asks. There’s no judgment in her voice and I love her more for it.
“Remember when I went to Hartright’s?”
She leans an arm on the ledge, taking another hit. “Don’t tell me you found him in one of the rooms?”
“No.” I roll onto my back. My legs dangle over the edge of the arm and I wiggle until my shoes fall off. “Len told him what I was up to. And. . . he showed up.”
Isolde contemplates for a second. “You fuck him?”
“No, but he fingered me in a cab and then I jerked him off until he was about to come and left him there.”
Isolde laughs, dry puffs of air.
She’s this odd mix of stoic sometimes. Her face remains perpetually pale and blank, but her brows move or her shoulders shake with laughter. I always chalked it up to her never wanting to make big movements. It’s best for a triggerman to blend in.
But I think my friend wears apathetic like a second skin. It’s a mask, fixed across her face, to stop anyone from getting too deep.
“Can I borrow some sweatpants?” I ask.
She nods toward her room, happy to oblige but not getting up. I scamper off to her bedroom. The furniture is all made from light-colored wood. There’s another large rug covering the floor. Her laundry is folded and I help myself not only to sweats, but socks and a crewneck.
When I come back into the living room she holds out the joint.
I curl up next to the windowsill, leaning forward. Suddenly I’m no longer Ren Callahan, businesswoman extraordinaire. I’m reminded of my college days. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon and I’m getting high with my best friend.
Of course, it can’t last. I’ve got a meeting at six and the only reason I’m able to hang out now is because someone cancelled on me. Usually, I’d fill the spot. I’ve got people willing to meet me wheneverone opens up.
I can’t face Fujimori’s just yet. This morning was hard enough.
“Will you come with me later?” I don’t even bother to work up to it. “To Fujimori’s for dinner?”
She won’t sit at the table when I’ve got customers, but she can eat snacks in the kitchen until they’re gone. We’ve done it plenty of times.
And she must know I don’t want to go alone because she nods.
I hand the joint back to her. She lazily holds it to her lips, staring out at the clear blue sky. “They say it’s going to be a cold winter.”
I don’t know where she gets half the stuff she does. There’s always some article she’s read or story she’s heard. I’m happy to listen to her but she knows it’s not what I really want.
“So you going to keep fucking him or not?” she asks, right to the point.
I rest my chin on the windowsill. “He thinks so.”
She snorts.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I don’t know why I slept with him again in the first place.”
