The Porters owned the building where I had my bath shop—Clean Art. The Porters owned the bank where I had my business loan. They pretty much owned everything and a piece of everyone I knew. That was okay. They were good people. Most of them.
I collapsed onto the bed next to Lila and grabbed her left hand, still in awe of the diamond on her ring finger. “He’s going to make you quit your job and pop out babies, but not before he makes you remove that barbell from your tongue.”
Our friendship traveled many paths with interesting stops for things like piercings and tattoos. As soon as we could legally rebel, we did. Lila pierced her tongue. I put holes in my belly button and eyebrow. Then we inked our skin. Lila splurged with a full-winged tramp stamp, while I demonstrated my geek side with a carbon atom tattoo on the inside of my left wrist.
She giggled, yanking her hand from my grip. “Stop! No, he’s not. He loves my independence, and his penis loves my piercing.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Eww …”
Graham flew to Vancouver three days earlier, so I had Lila all to myself for the flight and the drive to the hotel—Porter Suites. Imagine that.
“Baby!” Lila hurled herself into Graham’s arms as soon as he opened the door to the suite.
He winked at me over her shoulder.
“Graham Cracker.” I rolled my eyes.
After Lila rushed past him, he tipped the bellboy, watching him retreat toward the elevator for a few seconds before returning his attention to me. “So you don’t have to listen to her scream.” Graham handed me a keycard.
“Hmm … she’s never mentioned screaming. You must be referencing a movie, not actual events.” I plucked the keycard from his manicured fingers.
“I’m throwing my hat in the gubernatorial race next year. You realize you’ll have to address me with a little more respect when that happens.”
I brushed past Graham in his pinstriped suit, potent cologne, and over-gelled coal hair—parted perfectly on the side like the preppy guy he’d always been. Lila glued herself to my existence in kindergarten, but Graham wormed his way into our circle of friends in college. He campaigned for the role of my boyfriend for two whole weeks.
Flowers.
Expensive jewelry.
Plagiarized love letters—mostly William Wordsworth and Lord Byron.
I refrained from calling him out on his romantic poems and sonnets because the thought did count, although he lost a few points by assuming my love of science meant I knew nothing about literature.
We discovered our attraction wasn’t as physical as it was born of our mutual love for sports. My vagina stood in the way. He thought our shared interests plus his owning a penis and my owning a vagina equaled a match made in heaven.
As for Lila … well, she hated him for years.
“This place is quite fancy-pants, Graham Cracker. Or should I start calling you Governor Graham Cracker?”
The suite showcased a stunning view of the coastal mountains and water’s edge from the top level of the hotel nestled in the heart of downtown Vancouver. I suppressed a gasp to prevent feeding Graham’s ego. In fact, I went out of my way to bulldoze his ego at every opportunity.
“Why don’t you head down to the spa, Evelyn? Get a massage, maybe have them do something with your hair.” He eased his tall frame into the leather armchair and pulled Lila onto his lap, kissing her neck and groping her boob while looking at me.
Asshole.
My nose wrinkled while Lila tried to shoo his hand away, but Graham ignored her. “What’s wrong with my hair?” I ran my fingers through my pin-straight hair that stopped midway down my back.
“It’s fake blond. Not sexy blond like Lila’s hair.” He buried his nose in her hair and sniffed.
Fine. I’ll admit Lila’s wavy blond hair looked a bit healthier than mine. She turned heads with a chic blend of gold and copper lowlights because Graham sent her to the most expensive salons. However, I happened to like my platinum blond hair. Sometimes I liked it with colorful streaks. Sometimes I liked it with my natural, dark blond grown out a few inches.
It was hair. Why not get creative with it? Lila lost her carpe diem with her hair. She used to possess more flare BG (Before Graham). He liked her fitting in with his conservative family. She liked his relentless pursuit of her. Who wouldn’t like to be the center of someone’s world?
Lila’s beauty deserved all the admiration. Hell … I admired her all the time. She knew I envied so many things about her, like her curves. Whereas, I resembled a boy who hadn’t reached puberty yet.
No butt.
No boobs.
If it weren’t for my hair, I could’ve passed as a fourteen-year-old boy.
“I love you, Grammy Gram Gram.” I pinched his cheek while blowing Lila a kiss. “Try to give her a real orgasm.”