Girlfriends (Patrick Sanchez) (34 page)

Bitch! “Yeah, well, there were a few finishing touches that need to be done, and then it will be wrapped up.”

“Okay, thanks, Cheryl,” Sandra said with a questionable look.

As the rest of the meeting attendees detailed what they had been working on all week, Cheryl sat in her chair, wanting to dissolve into thin air. Everyone knew she was lying about the database, and she was totally embarrassed. This was all she needed on top of everything else.

What was she going to do if her test came back positive? What would Cooper think? That would sure blow her good-little-girl facade. Initially, she really hadn’t been that worried about the test. It had just been a little precautionary thing she was doing until Gina told her about Griffin and his porn star status. Damn Gina!

As the meeting wrapped up, she thought about how she had to get through the next few hours, and then she would meet up with Gina and go get the results.

Blast from the Past

G
ina was feeling very anxious. After work Gina could go to the clinic and find out if her life had changed forever. She was so worried about the test that The Big G Cam was only a secondary concern for her. She just wanted to get through the testing procedure. Then she would take care of Griffin and his stupid Web site.

She had just finished helping a customer with a credit line and was trying to clean out some files she’d been ignoring for a few days. Liz was holed up in her office, and Linda was in the rest room, getting ready for her lunch date with Rosa. Gina was the only one working the lobby, when an elderly woman approached her desk.

“Excuse me, dear. The young man behind the counter told me I have to pay a dollar for a deposit ticket. I’m sure he must be misinformed. What is that about?”

It’s about one more way for the bank to dick you over. “Actually, ma’am, he’s right. The bank charges a fee for counter deposit slips.”

“For heaven’s sake—that’s insane.”

Yep. “Actually, the bank does it to encourage customers to use their pre-encoded slips. It helps to avoid errors,” Gina said, offering the standard bank spiel.

“Well, charge me for a deposit ticket, and I will close my account right now.”

“It’s okay, ma’am. It really is the bank’s policy, but here’re a couple of slips on the house,” Gina said just to avoid any further confrontation with the woman.

“God, I hate this place. You know, this was a decent place to bank about three name changes ago. Charging for a slip of paper—insane!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I understand your frustration, but it’s really beyond my control,” Gina responded in complete agreement as the woman walked away.

As Gina watched the woman head back toward the teller line with her deposit tickets, Linda came from the rest room with a disgusted look on her face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gina asked.

“Have you noticed anything strange in the ladies’ room lately?”

“Strange? You mean the person who is doing their business and not flushing the toilet? Yes. I’ve run into it a few times.”

“It’s disgusting. I think we should talk to Liz about it.”

“And say what? Someone’s pooping in the toilet and not flushing?”

“Why not?” Linda asked.

“I don’t know. It’s not exactly pleasant conversation. Anyway, she already hates me. I’m not going to talk about poop with her. Besides, I think it’s her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I think she’s the one doing it.”

“Oh my God! Why?”

“Well, remember last Saturday? The only women here were you, Kelly, Liz, and me. Well,
it
happened last Saturday. I know it’s not me or you and, God, look at Kelly,” Gina said, pointing her eyes behind the teller line at Kelly. “She’s barely five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds. There’s no way she’s putting out stuff that big,” Gina said with a disgusted giggle.

“Why would Liz do that?” Linda asked.

“Maybe she’s angry about something or because she’s . . . oh, I don’t know . . . a FREAK!”

Linda and Gina laughed together. It was one of the few times over the past couple of days that Gina’s mind actually strayed from the HIV test.

As the girls tried to get back to work, a small man with blond hair came into the bank and approached Linda.

“I’m trying to find Rosa Martinez. I went by her office, and they said she was meeting a friend here.”

“Well, I’m the one she’s meeting. She’s not here yet. Can I help you with anything?”

“No, I’ll just wait for her here, if that’s okay,” the man said.

“Sure. By the way, I’m Linda. May I ask your name?”

“Sure. I’m René, Rosa’s husband.”

As Linda stood flabbergasted, the elderly woman who questioned Gina earlier passed by.

“Charging for a slip of paper . . . insane!” she mumbled on her way out the door.

Husband

“E
xcuse me?” Linda said.

“I said I’m René, Rosa’s husband.”

“Husband? Really? That’s funny. She never mentioned a husband.”

“No? René? She never mentioned me?”

“Oh, she mentioned a Renée, just not a
husband
named René.”

“Well, we’ve been separated for a few months.”

“Still, she should’ve mentioned you. She’s going to have some serious explaining to do when she gets here.”

Gina watched the scene unfold in front of her desk but remained silent. She knew how awful the news must have been for Linda, but she couldn’t help feeling a tinge of relief that maybe Linda’s relationship with Rosa was headed for disaster and Gina would have her best friend back.

“Explaining?” René asked.

“I can’t even begin to tell you. Did you guys have a cleaning lady named Bianca?”

“Oh, God, did she tell you about Bianca?”

“She mentioned her.”

“It was one time. I can’t believe she told you about her,” René said, sounding very defensive. “Bianca seduced me. She basically forced herself on me.”

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s none of my business,” Linda lied. It most certainly was her business. She was about to inquire further, when Rosa appeared at the door. She smiled at Linda as she walked into the bank. Then she caught sight of René and immediately halted. She looked at René with a startled, angry glare and then back at Linda.

“Linda, I’m sorry. What did he tell you?”

“Not much, just that he’s your husband, significant other, spouse, life partner. . . .”

“You fucking asshole!” Rosa yelled at René. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to find you, Rosa. Don’t be mad. I only came because I care.”

“Really? How much were you caring about me when you were rolling around the living room floor with the maid?”

“It was a mistake, Rosa—a really big mistake. I don’t know why it happened. It was just that one time. I swear. God . . . I don’t know!”

“It was just the one time? Well then, I guess I was irrational. You should leave your husband only if he screws the maid twice? Is that it? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No. Goddamn it, Rosa! I’m not trying to explain anything. I’m just asking that you forgive me, or at least consider forgiving me. I love you, Rosa. I was so stupid. Please! You have to—” René didn’t finish his sentence. He had finally noticed the obvious.

“Rosa?” he asked. “Are you pregnant? Is it mine? It’s got to be mine. Oh, Rosa,” he said, suddenly smiling and walking closer to Rosa. “We’re going to have a baby?”

“We
aren’t going to have anything.
I
am going to have a baby.”

“Come on, Rosa, this is a sign. We are meant to be together. We need to raise this baby together. You
have
to give me another chance.”

“I can’t talk about this now,” Rosa said between tears. “You hurt me, René. You ripped my heart out. Do you have any idea what it was like for me to walk in on the two of you? How do I know it was just one time? How do I know it won’t happen again?”

Linda and Gina, not to mention the rest of the bank, had been watching the spectacle unfold. Completely dumbfounded, Linda observed the two of them as lie after lie unraveled before her eyes. There was no lesbian lover, no sperm bank, hell, Rosa wasn’t even a lesbian. Linda was especially disturbed when Rosa began asking questions—questions like “How do I know it was just one time?” or “How do I know it won’t happen again?” Words like that meant she was starting to cave. She was starting to consider taking him back. She wasn’t telling him to go away and never return. She was asking him to explain himself and assure her that he wouldn’t hurt her again.

“It won’t happen again, honey. I promise. I could never bear to lose you again,” René said, lightly stroking Rosa’s arm. “Rosa, please, let’s try. Please, for the baby—
our
baby.”

“I can’t. I can’t get hurt like that again,” Rosa said, sobbing.

“I promise, Rosa. I will never, with God as my witness, hurt you again.”

Rosa looked up at him and stared into his eyes. She just looked at him for a long pause before turning in closer and nuzzling her head into his chest. He hugged her tightly as she continued to cry.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” René said, trying to calm her. “What do you say we get out of here and talk for a while?”

René grabbed her hand and started to lead her out of the bank.

“Wait a minute, René,” Rosa said, wiping the tears from her face before turning to Linda. “Linda, I just don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“There’s a lot of sorrys floating around here today, aren’t there? A lot of sorry people.”

“I’ll call you, Linda, once I get my head together.”

“Don’t bother.”

Rosa just looked at her for a minute longer, lowered her eyes, and turned to leave.

“Rosa?” Linda called behind her. “If you love him and you really think he loves you . . . well . . . just let me know that the baby was born and that it’s okay.”

Again Rosa just looked at her, nodded her head, and gave her a weak smile before pushing open the door and letting it shut behind her.

Fill ’Er Up

C
ameron was dragging a little these days. She had been with the company for almost a year, and this was the first time she had ever been late for work. It was nearly noon by the time she got in. She was so tense lately, she wasn’t sleeping well. She was still getting hang-up calls at home every now and then—sometimes well into the wee hours of the morning. She tried to remember to turn the ringer off before going to bed, but sometimes it slipped her mind. Thank God the weird phone calls at work had stopped. There hadn’t been any since the man who wanted her to spank him repeatedly with a Ping-Pong paddle. Maybe the whole thing was finally winding down.

The past few days she just had a sense that no one in the office particularly cared for her. She always figured people would understand that she was just doing her job when she produced her monthly reports about Internet and e-mail misconduct. After all, they were all adults. There was no reason to take it personally. Cameron prided herself on being efficient and doing her job with a certain degree of perfection. She wasn’t about to let a bunch of losers who insisted on sending around e-mail jokes about bearded midgets get her down. As she stepped off the elevator, she threw her shoulders back and lifted her head, trying to put herself in a better mood.

Project confidence, Cameron. You’re a winner in a world of losers, she thought to herself as she approached her desk. She flipped on her computer and sat down. After logging on to the network, Cameron waited for her e-mail to open and started reviewing her messages. There was an urgent request from her boss to compile her monthly reports and get them to him as soon as possible. Cameron immediately began riffling through her desk drawers to find the necessary documents.

When she found the last report, she swung around in her chair, and her computer monitor came into view. As she caught sight of her screen saver, her jaw dropped as she gasped for air. Staring directly at her was a picture of “Virtual Cameron,” completely naked aside from a pair of stilettos and a gasoline hose—or, more accurately, a picture of Cameron’s head superimposed onto someone else’s body that was completely naked aside from a pair of stilettos and a gasoline hose. Shocked, Cameron hastily pecked at the keyboard to make the screen saver go away. Her first keystroke sent the figure into a fit of erotic masturbation. Virtual Cameron began gyrating—masturbating herself with one hand and swinging the hose with the other. Panicked, Cameron hit the keyboard again, only to add sound to the monstrosity on her screen. The sound system was set at full volume. (Annie had recorded the voice in a deep, throaty tone, but one of the settings must have gone astray, because the voice coming from the computer was more that of a vinyl record being played at high speed.) The voice of an excited chipmunk shouting “Fill me up! Fill me up!” blared from the speakers, sending sound waves into the office corridors and prompting staff to approach Cameron’s desk to see where the noise was coming from. In a complete frenzy, Cameron hit the escape button on her keyboard. Thank God—that finally made it go away. Virtual Cameron disappeared and was replaced by a notice that popped up on her screen. It said “Thank you. Message sent to all company users.”

Peter finally had justice. The annoying woman who had cost him a promotion and embarrassed him in front of his boss—the woman who made a career out of policing employee use of the Internet—had just sent Virtual Cameron to come alive on the computer screen of every employee at Saunders, Kraff, and Larson.

Must Think of Linda

“O
h my God, Linda. Are you okay?” Gina said, realizing what a stupid thing that was to ask.

“I’m fine,” Linda responded, staring down at her desk.

“I’m so sorry,” Gina said, ashamed for feeling even remotely glad to see Linda and Rosa part company. Yes, Gina was jealous of Rosa and all the time Rosa and Linda had been spending together, but over the past month or so, Linda had an aura of contentment and confidence about her that Gina had never seen before. Gina was glad to see her doing so well and knew that she, probably more than anyone Gina knew, deserved to be happy. Linda was always even tempered and rarely moody, but she never really seemed genuinely happy until she met Rosa. Lately, it hadn’t been uncommon for Gina to see her singing at her desk, and, once in a while, she caught her smiling like a Cheshire cat for no apparent reason.