“When has a man ever been stress relief?” Vi said, snorting.
“Well, you've got me there,” Layna agreed, shaking her head.
“Weren’t we supposed to be trying to help Abs decorate?” Hope asked, clearly wanting to change the topic.
“Right. Yeah,” Layna said. “Two chicks without their own apartments, and another whose apartment is still eighty-percent in boxes. We’re a real crack team when it comes to home decorating.”
“Well, experts we might not be. But even I can see that a couch and a bed might be in order,” Vi said, shrugging. “We can start there.”
“Right, right. Fucking surfaces would be good. I mean, the kitchen counter would work in a pinch.” At the shared looks of amusement on her cousins, Layna let out an airy chuckle and threw out a hand. “What can I say? I need to get laid. It’s all I can think about. Hand me that damn catalog. I’ll try to keep my head out of the gutter.”
I don’t know if she genuinely tried or not, but she was wholly unsuccessful either way. But as the hours dragged on, all three women started to get almost a little giddy, egging one another on, then breaking off in fits of laughter as they each shared stories.
I couldn’t help but get swept up in their little world right alongside them.
Suddenly it didn’t matter that they’d literally known each other since they were babies, and that I was a complete outsider to their world. I felt like I belonged, that they wanted me there, that they were happy to bring me into their fold.
I’d been pretty sure when I’d told Cary that I wanted to stay in Navesink Bank after everything calmed down. After meeting the girls, though, I was even more certain that this was going to be my place, that these were going to be my people.
Maybe it was presumptuous of me to think that, but they made me feel like I was one of them. And while we looked through magazines and on Layna’s phone at Pinterest, they kept talking about their future events, and inviting me along.
The girls, apparently, went to karaoke most weeks.
They went out to eat together, to the bars, or hung out at one another’s houses.
And, apparently, Vi had extended herself an invitation to crash on my couch whenever she was in town and in need.
What’s more… I was excited at the prospect.
It also helped me pick the right couch. Before that comment, it wouldn’t have occurred to me that I needed space for guests.
By the time we heard Cary’s bike making its way toward the building, the four of us managed to get a general idea of how I wanted to decorate the place in a way that could make it feel bright and spacious without resorting to all white or beige color schemes.
“Are you guys going back to the hotel tonight then?” Hope asked when Cary made his way up with a couple of bags in his hands.
I glanced around at the space that was empty save for our pizza boxes, soda bottles, and a couple design magazines.
I really didn’t want to go back to the hotel.
But, clearly, there was no way we could stay at the apartment. We didn’t even have an air mattress or even sleeping bags. And, quite frankly, after sleeping on buses and benches for the trip from Mexico to Navesink Bank, I really didn’t want to have to sleep on anything other than a mattress again if it could be helped.
“Just one more night,” Cary assured me, reading my face. “We could get a mattress here tomorrow. And a frame. You can worry about the headboard and shit later.”
“Okay,” I agreed, looking at his hands, seeing the bag for an electronics store there as well as, for reasons that I couldn’t fathom, a pet store. “You better not have bought me anything else,” I warned him, trying to use a serious voice even if a part of me was thrilled at the idea of getting more surprises.
“Girl, you just take the shit the handsome men give you,” Layna said, clicking her tongue at me.
“Like you took that Russian mafia dude’s diamond-encrusted ring at your last poker game?” Vi asked.
“What? Like it’s my fault the man didn’t bring enough cash to the table? That ring is going to fund my next trip out to California. First-class, all the way,” she added, smiling, clearly proud of her score.
“They’re essentials,” Cary insisted, putting down the bags, then pulling out a small rectangular box. “A cell phone,” he told me. “We need to be able to get in contact with each other. And the girls or Dezi if you want too,” he added, handing me the box, then going back into the bag. “And a laptop. Because you just need one. Especially if you want to buy any shit for the apartment online. The rest is just accessories for both. No big deal.”