Eleven
Rosslyn
“Do these jeans make my ass look fat?” Trish asked. She was turning in the mirror, trying to see her back.
“No,” I said absently, staring out of the store into the rest of the Manhattan mall.
Women wrapped in expensive everything and carrying purses with pooches inside, chatted as they walked by.
A girl’s day with Trish was exactly what I needed. Anything that got my mind off of the crazy mess my life was becoming.
“Fuck. I guess I’ll get a smaller size then.”
She stripped down not caring who saw her in just her panties. It was then I realized what she’d said.
“Wait. Are you saying you want a pair of jeans to make your ass look fat?” I asked confused.
“Yes. My ass is flat. I need something to perk it up.” She reached down, grabbing her bottom and lifted it.
“Oh my God, Trish. You’re so deranged.”
Eleven pairs of jeans later, and she finally found a pair that she was happy with.
Next, we stopped at yet another clothing store, where I sat for another hour and watched her try on clothes. Anything was better than sitting at the condo watching TV all day.
“Oh my God, you should try this on.” Trish said from my side. “This would look amazing on your with your red hair.”
I looked over to find her holding up green top. It was beautiful with a scoop neckline.
“I don’t have the money to buy any new clothes right now,” I giggled.
“Oh come on. You have to at least try it on.” Shoving it into my arms, she pushed me into the dressing room.
I sighed loudly, before pulling my T-shirt over my head and slipping the green shirt on. The fabric felt like butter and it fit perfectly. I turned in the mirror admiring how nice it looked on me. Grabbing the tag that was dangling from the arm, I looked down at the expensive price tag.
“Come out. Let me see what it looks like,” Trish called out on the other side of the door.
Opening the door, I stepped out and adjusted the shirt.
“See? I told you it would look amazing on you. Do you love it?”
I smiled and made a tiny turn. “I think I do.”
After promising Trish I’d save and buy the shirt another day, we finally left the store and headed to the food court.
“So what exactly happened at Clive’s?” she asked, sucking at her Starbucks cup.
The food court around us bustled with laughter and voices. I reached down and plucked at a fry on my tray.
“Nothing really,” I shrugged.
Trish tilted her head to the side and looked at me like I was full of it, which I totally was.
“Don’t give me that shit. Stacy, the pretty waitress with the nose ring, said she saw Sebastian talking to you personally. He never does that.” She took another sip. “So what did he say?”
I debated whether or not telling her was a good idea. I’d known Trish a while and never had she been one to tell secrets. But then again, I’d never really had any juicy secrets to tell. She worked at Clive’s and she was bound to let it slip at some point. The thought of it getting back to Sebastian that I was talking about him didn’t scare me, but it wasn’t something I wanted to happen.
“Really. Nothing happened. He just told me nicely that the job wasn’t for me and sent me on my way.” I was lying. I hated lying and it wasn’t something I did often, but it was necessary.
Trish didn’t know where I was staying. She was too caught up in her life to even ask, which was fine by me. Usually I’d be ticked off by her selfish ways, but this time, not so much.
“He’s fucking sexy isn’t he?”
“Who?” I asked.
“Sebastian, the owner of Clive’s.”
“Oh. Yeah I guess he’s okay,” I shrugged.
Another lie.
“You guess?” She reached out and playfully laid her hand on my forehead like she was checking my temperature. I laughed and smacked her hand away. “Seriously, Roz, you’re either delirious from a burning fever, totally blind, or into sucking clit if you don’t see how unbelievably hot that man is.”
“Oh my God, you did not just say that?” I put my head down when I noticed the lady next to her looking at us with an appalled expression.
“Yes, I did. And just so you know, I’d love you if you were any of those.” She stole a fry from my tray and tossed it into her mouth. “Sexy or not, he’s a total knob slobber.”
“What’s a knob slobber?” I asked.
“Oh come on, Roz. As in, he slobs on knobs.” She made the motion with her hand and mouth like she was going down on a guy.