“Yeah, sure,” Carrie said.
“Excuse me,” Cici said, “but do we know you?”
“No, we don’t,” Carrie answered.
“What do you have?” the Girl asked.
“What do yo
u want?” Carrie said.
“I’ve got some great weed,” the Girl said.
“Good,” Carrie said.
The Girl lit the joint and held it up. “Best weed you’ve ever smoked.”
“I doubt it,” Carrie said, inhaling deeply.
The club was crowded, and it was pleasant to be hanging out in the bathroom stall. The Girl leaned back against the wall and toked on the joint. She said she was twenty-seven, and Carrie didn’t believe her, but that was okay, too. Because, at first, she was just a girl she met in the bathroom. It happened all the time.
“So, like, what do you do?” Cici asked.
“I’m developing my own skin care company,” the Girl said.
“Ah,” Carrie said.
“It’s based on science. I’d love to take care of your skin for you.”
“Oh, really?” Carrie said. She lit up a cigarette. Other people were banging on the door now.
“We should get out of here,” Cici said.
“I’d like someone to take care of my skin,” Carrie said. “I don’t think it’s quite as good as it could be.”
“Let me out,” Cici said.
“I can make it better,” the Girl said.
She was on the short side, but she had presence. A cool face that could be beautiful, but you had to keep looking at it to make sure. She was wearing leather pants, boots. Both expensive. Her voice was low.
“There are people out there who know me,” Cici said. She was fidgeting.
“Chill out,” Carrie said.
“I want you to hang with me,” the Girl said. “I want you to stay with me the whole night. I think you’re beautiful, you know.”
“Yeah, sure,” Carrie said. But she was surprised.
WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?
In eighth grade, Carrie knew a girl named Charlotte Netts. Charlotte was one of the popular girls, which basically meant she was an early developer. Charlotte used to invite other girls over to spend the night. She used to send notes to girls, too. Carrie’s friend Jackie went to spend the night at Charlotte’s, and the next day it turned out that she had called her father in the middle of the night to come get her. Charlotte, Jackie said, had “attacked” her. She tried to kiss her and touch her breasts, and she wanted Jackie to do the same thing to her. She said it was “practice for boys.” After that, they weren’t friends anymore.
It was a scary story, and for years, Carrie would never sleep in the same bed with other girls or undress in front of them, even though you were supposed to be able to do that, because it was just girls. She used to think, What is wrong with me, why can’t I just be like everybody else and not be up-tight about it? But it would be terrible to have to say no to sexual advances from someone who was your friend.
A few years back, two of her girlfriends had gotten drunk and ended up spending the night together. The next day, both of them called Carrie and complained about how the other one tried to have sex with her, and how Carrie had better watch out. Carrie didn’t know which one to believe. But the two women were never friends again.
ROUGH PERSUASION