“Perfect?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “So far he seems to be. But that’s the thing,” I say, fueled by the point I’m ready to make. “He’s not. He’s just like the other men in his position. He’s powerful, used to getting his way. Women are toys to men like him. And—” I say, cutting her off, “—I’m not saying I’m opposed to being with him. But if that happens, it has to be under a certain set of guidelines. I have to keep some control over it because he’ll win this election and jet off to Atlanta and I’ll never hear from him again.”
She snorts. “That’s not true.”
“It is true. I’ve seen it. Hell, I’ve lived it. What happened in my marriage? With the man that promised to cherish me forever?” I pause for effect. “Oh, yeah, that’s right—he got some power and forgot about me. His wife. He swapped Huxley for a prostitute and our life for some back room deals that got him indicted and me investigated with an assault charge.”
“That didn’t stick,” she points out. “No one believed you assaulted that reporter.”
“No, but my face was in the papers, my name was ripped to shreds for nothing,” I groan. “Don’t you see what I’m saying? To men like Hayden and Barrett, I’m sure people are just instruments for entertainment while they scale the ladder.”
She doesn’t respond. Her breathing sounds through the phone, so I know she’s still there.
“Lo?”
“I just hate that you went through that,” she says softly. “I do. And I hate it for my buddy Huxley too. But Ali, it’s time to spread your wings farther than being a mom and figuring out your career. It’s time to do something for you.”
“So you think doing Landry is the answer?” I smirk.
“Absolutely,” she laughs.
“I can’t afford to let my heart get all tied up in a man like that again.”
"Well, my friend, your heart and your vagina are two different things. You want to close off your heart—go for it. But keep your legs open."
"You are insane."
"No, I'm perfectly rational. You can have sex just for the sake of orgasms, you know. You don't have to tie yourself all up. You aren't sixteen."
I laugh and stand, walking to the back door and looking across the backyard. It, like the house, is small but has enough space to toss around a ball and catch lightning bugs in the summertime.
"I have plenty of meaningless sex,” I counter.
"No, you don't. You've slept with two guys, each a handful of times, in the handful of years I’ve known you. That's not ‘plenty.’ That's grossly underwhelming."
I sigh, knowing she's right. "Maybe I'm over meaningless sex. Maybe I'm . . .” I look at my reflection and contemplate saying the one thing I've been toying with in my head aloud. Once I spew it into the universe, it's out there for good. And maybe that makes it true. "Maybe I'm ready to have meaningful sex."
"Why would you go and do something like that?"
"I've been through all the emotions of a divorce. I've been sad. Angry. I’ve grieved and had meaningless sex. But maybe that's not enough now. Maybe I know down deep I'm looking for something more real than a quickie, so I'm playing it smart so I don't get gobsmacked by a man just like the one that burned me. So I don’t end up right back where I started. Maybe I'm trying to find someone that I'll be able to trust and that will be respectable enough to bring into Huxley’s life. Maybe I'm working on that." The line is silent for a long while. "Lola?"
"Oh, I'm here. Just trying to figure out how that means you can't fuck Barrett."
I laugh and do a check of the house, making sure everything’s locked tight. “You have a one-track mind.”
“This is true. And on that note, I have to go. I'm meeting a guy I met last week for a round two. Because separate hearts and vaginas and all."
"Does he even have a name?" I yawn.
"Who cares? His cock is massive."
"Nice," I say, shaking my head. "I'll talk to you soon."
"Bye, love."
I walk into the bathroom and set the phone on the counter. Looking into the mirror, my long blonde hair is wild, as it usually is after a long shift. It's coming out of the tie I'd tried to use to tame it, so I pull it out and let it cascade over my shoulders.
My eyes are dark blue, but there's a sparkle in them I haven't seen in a long time.
"What if I promised you we could do it at a place no one would see us? Just you and I. No agenda. No media. No expectations.”
I place my hands on the counter and bow my head.
Just thinking about him makes me feel tingly. The thought of his smile makes me smile, the recollection of his words making me crave the chance to hear more.
I wish I was Lola and could have just offered myself to him, no strings attached. But I'm not Lola with her confidence for days. I'm a divorcee with more self-doubt than I’d like to admit. I can't play off my feelings or shake off rejection, and if I’m smart, I know I certainly can't afford to tie up any part of myself, heart or vagina, with a man like Barrett Landry.