Chapter Two
Breaking Out
Three soft taps reverberated from the door and filled the small living room, causing Allie to wrench herself from her comfortable corner of the couch. Tossing the book she’d been reading onto the glass coffee table in front of her, she padded barefoot across the hardwood floor. With a quick glance at her watch, she reached the door and gently pulled it open.
“Hey!” The greeting was joined by a swirl of action, as a blonde-haired woman breezed across the threshold. “I know you said two,” she quickly added, barely pausing for breath, as she pulled at the tight-fitting skirt that was riding up her thighs. “I got caught at this stupid meeting, you know how it is.” It was barely an apology, but it was as close as the woman ever came to offering one.
“It’s okay,” Allie responded, eyes wide as she found herself once again amazed by the mass of energy that was squeezed into an incredible hour-glass figure. She had been friends with Rosalind Evans for almost five years. And, in all of that time, she’d been at a loss to quite explain why. On the surface of it, the women had nothing in common. They were in the same business, sort of, but writing for a fashion magazine was hardly Allie’s idea of serious journalism. Rosalind was also a party girl, more concerned with having a good time than with where her life was heading. If she wanted to get ahead in her career, she did it by flirting with her male features editor, not by putting in any additional work. In short, she was the polar opposite of Allie. And, if Allie were honest with herself, perhaps that’s why she was so drawn to the wild child. Rosalind did all of the things Allie couldn’t or wouldn’t let herself do. So she was able to live vicariously through her best friend.
Closing the door, while she mulled over the truth of that thought, Allie spoke again, “I just wanted to ask your advice about something.”
“Ooh,” Rosalind exaggeratedly cooed. “You, asking for my advice?” she chuckled. “You’re the grown up one, Allie, remember?”
“I know,” Allie agreed with a nod, as she gestured towards the couch. “That’s why I need your advice.”
Not needing to be asked twice, Rosalind followed the silent invitation to sit. Although, with her thigh hugging skirt, she could not lounge back in the seat and had to remain perched precariously on the edge. “So,” she sighed, flicking her overly long bangs from her eyes. “What can I do for you?”
Settling beside Rosalind, Allie tucked one leg beneath her butt and sank back against the couch’s plush cushions. “This might sound kinda strange,” she confessed, with a self-deprecating smile. “I mean…” she added, but didn’t seem able to proceed from there. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past two days,” she said, slightly more confident with the change of tack. “And I’ve decided that I want something different from life.”
“Okay,” Rosalind slowly offered, elongating the ‘o’. “You’re going to join a commune?” she asked.
“No,” Allie responded, laughing at the absurdity of the notion.
“Good, because I wouldn’t have been able to help you with that.”
Dipping her face, Allie searched the floor, her gaze focusing on the strange patterns made by the knots in the wood. “Listen,” she sighed, wringing her hands awkwardly, before tiring of her their movement and thrusting them between her knees. “I was just wondering if you would share your secret.”
“Secret?” Rosalind’s eyes shifted unconsciously from left to right, as she tried to decrypt her friend’s request.
“Yeah,” came the quick response. “How do you attract so many guys?”
Rosalind let forth a scoff that caused her to snort in a very unladylike manner. “Allie, plenty of men are interested in you. You’re not interested in them, that’s the problem.”
Allie blinked, as she shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. What I mean is how do you go about having a…” she hovered over the word, trying to find the right way to complete the sentence. “…casual thing.”
A slow grin quirked Rosalind’s glossy pink lips, until she was beaming broadly. “You want to have a fling?” she asked, the smile so evident in her voice that Allie didn’t need to see her face.
“Maybe,” Allie shrugged defensively, unsure why her friend’s gentle teasing had prompted that reaction in her.
“Allie, you’re not really the one night stand type.”
“What if I’ve changed?” Allie responded, her face still a picture of solemnity.
Rosalind’s brow began to crease thoughtfully, as the large grin faded from her features. “What’s all this about?” she asked, making a move to lean back into the couch, but stopping herself, when her skirt gripped her more tightly.
“People change,” Allie replied, her eyes drifting to her own legs and the blue jeans that covered them.
“I know,” the blonde woman nodded. “But not you,” she added, offering another flash of her teasing smile.
This time she was rewarded with a reluctant mirroring of the gesture. “I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking,” Allie confessed. “About what I’ve been doing with my life. I’ve always been so focused. First on my education, then getting my dream job, then working my butt off to be the very best.”
“You are the best,” Rosalind told her matter-of-factly, with no hint of humor or insincerity.
“But I’ve missed out on so much,” Allie responded, with a frustrated sigh. “I never really got to let my hair down.”
“And now you want to?” her friend supplied, filling in the blanks.
“Yeah,” Allie nodded.
“Why now?”
“Why not now?” she countered. “I mean, there may not be a tomorrow, right?”
Chuckling lightly, Rosalind couldn’t argue that piece of perfect logic, even if it sounded as though a very different woman was sitting by her side. “I’m still not sure you’re the love ’em and leave ’em kind though. I mean, do you really want to start hooking up with strangers?”
Allie bit her lower lip, while she considered the question. “No, I suppose not,” she agreed. “But maybe I don’t have to,” she quickly added, straightening herself in the seat and meeting Rosalind’s eye for the first time since the pair had sat down. “Maybe all those lost opportunities aren’t lost for good,” she suggested, a hint of playfulness in her voice.
Giving another tug on the hem of her skirt, Rosalind peered suspiciously at the friend who, until that afternoon, she would have sworn she knew better than anybody else. “What are you thinking?”