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The Worst of Friends

"What happens when you are attracted to someone you cannot stand?"

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Famous Story
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Hope crossed her arms tightly across her chest and stared out the conference room window. It was barely nine in the morning and the day was already shit. Sheets of rain pounded the thick glass loudly and the swirling storm clouds reflected her black mood.

A gentle shiver vibrated through her body. She never seemed to feel completely dry when she was in Seattle. She never felt warm. Fifty stories up, fuzzy red and white lights from automobiles were barely visible through the grey soup. She wondered absently how long it might take for mold to grow behind her ears.

The room was filling up with men and women in business suits exchanging muted greetings and helping themselves to coffee. Hope returned to her laptop at the long cherry wood table and typed in her password. She thought about her husband and felt a pang of guilt. They had barely looked at each other when the taxi had arrived to take her to the airport. They hadn’t argued. There was no anger. There was just… nothing.

There was a time when he would have embraced her at the doorway and kissed her meaningfully before seeing her off. She would have run her hands over his back and told him how much she was going to miss him. She’d smell his cologne on her clothes and feel warm and wanted for the rest of the day. It would be nice.

Nice, but not what she needed now. She wanted for once to be pushed up against the door jamb and feel a hot hand slide inside her blouse to squeeze her hard nipple. She wanted her makeup ruined with hot, wet kisses and to be pulled roughly against a hard cock. She’d give the cab driver an eyeful in the rear view mirror, stuffing her boobs back into her bra and pulling the hem of her pencil skirt back down her thighs. She needed fucking passion.

Hope blew out an audible sigh. That just wasn’t Phillip though, was it? It never had been. Phillip had everything she thought she could ever want when her brother had introduced them. Yes, he was a few years older than she, but not too many. He had good looks, a pedigree, ambition, and money, lots of it. No, it was more than that, she thought. Philip was a good man, kind and reliable. He would make a good father one day.

Yet it no longer felt like enough and she didn’t know what to do about it. She asked herself the question she most feared. Was this how she would feel for the rest of her life?

Hope looked up from her computer as a handsome, young investment banker eased into the cushioned seat across the table from her. She rolled her eyes. A suit straight from Savile Row, Italian shoes, Swiss watch… he wasn’t likely to drive a Chevy pickup with a “Buy American” bumper sticker. His grey eyes sparkled at her as he flashed a breezy smile. She studied the ceiling tiles. You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought. This is just what I need today.

She typically loathed guys like him. They behaved as if their money actually meant something; as if it invested them with real intelligence or, even more laughable, good bloodlines. Hope knew all about bloodlines.

Her father, scion of an old steel family, ran one of the largest charitable foundations in the Midwest. Her grandfather, mother, and two brothers were cardiothoracic surgeons. Hope had broken from form by going to work for a Chicago consulting firm after earning a PhD in applied mathematics. Her family considered her career choice beneath her station.

She was in Seattle to advise the city on a new bond issue. Her job was to make sure her client didn’t get taken to the cleaners by the investment banks that had lined up to underwrite the financial instruments.

“Will Carroll,” announced the banker, hand outstretched.

“Hope Allerton,” she nodded, glancing quickly around the table. One side of her mouth curled up in a smirk. She squeezed his hand firmly. Will grinned broadly before releasing it. What an asshole, she thought. Can this day get any fucking worse?

***** 

Limousines lined up along the curb to ferry the negotiators to their respective lodgings. The deluge lashed the city in waves. Paper cups and wrappers swam crazily along rushing gutters and bounced over rippled currents. Storm drains overflowed, turning the street into a swollen creek. A colleague held open the car door for Hope. The interior looked dry and inviting.

“Hold on a sec,” she said, looking impatiently at her phone. “I need to take this.”

She lowered her head against the driving rain and strode quickly across the brick pavement toward the covered entrance to the office tower. Will stood a few feet from her, peacefully pulling on a cigarette and observing the squall. Hope turned her back to him and held the mobile phone to her ear.

“When did you start smoking?”

“About two minutes ago, Hopeless. I bummed this off the guy at the security desk,” replied Will, blowing out a long thin cloud. “I needed some reason to stand out here in this mess.”

“Hmmgh, ‘Hopeless’. I haven’t heard that one since we were undergrads,” Hope sneered into the dead phone. “Where are you staying?”

“The Four Seasons. You?”

“The W.”

“Huh… a little trendy, don’t you think?”

“S’matter? Grouchy from getting your Wall Street ass kicked today, Billy?”

“There’s a crappy little tavern about two blocks away from your très chic hotel. It’s on Second Avenue,” said Will, ignoring the jab. “I forget the name. Something like…”

“I know the place,” she interrupted, waving to her colleagues. “I have a dinner planned with my team. Ten o’clock work for you?”

“Perfect, we’re headed to Altura right now. Fucking starved,” he said, looking nonchalantly toward the sky. “I’ll see you at ten.”

Hope stuck the phone in her bag and sprinted in her pumps toward the hired car. Will shook his head and chuckled, crushing the butt under his sole.

*****

The sky opened up again just as Hope turned the corner onto Second Avenue. What in God’s name had prompted her to walk from her hotel? She fumed. This is Seattle; it’s always raining in Seattle. I don’t even have a fucking umbrella. Where the hell is my head today?

More importantly, she wondered, what had she been thinking when she agreed to meet Will for drinks? Hell, he hadn’t even needed to ask her. She just went right ahead and set the time like an idiot. She walked right into it. Billy Carroll? She couldn’t stand the guy. Never could. Yes, they had gone to college together but he was cocky and obnoxious. He had the moral compass of an alligator, as far as she was concerned, and about as much subtlety.

Both math majors, Billy was a fixture in many of her classes for four horrible years, always flashing that stupid grin or sharing an obscene joke whenever he saw her. He came from some working class town in New Jersey, she recalled, and had no sense of decorum. He was the classic social climber.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if she could have just ignored him. Unfortunately, he had an annoying habit of dating her friends. She had a strong suspicion that he did it purely out of a compulsion to drive her out of her mind. How many times did she have to hear about the captain of the crew team and how much fun he and his idiot friends were? She had to endure graphic debriefings the girls ritually conducted on Sunday mornings after The Big Night Out. Billy’s amorous adventures were frequently deconstructed in lurid detail. Disgusting.

“Hey there, Hopeless, I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” said Will, emerging from a darkened doorway.

“Okay. Stop calling me that. Got it?”

“Sure, Hope, sorry,” he said, chastened. “Old habits… you know?” He jerked a thumb toward the empty building. “The place looks like it’s been closed for a while.”

Will had managed to remain dry under an awning that stretched from the doorway to the curb. He was still wearing his clothes from the meeting, his suit jacket slung jauntily over his shoulder with his silk tie stuffed in a pocket. White sleeves were rolled up his muscled forearms and his top two shirt buttons were undone. Hope could see he wore no undershirt. He still doesn’t want for confidence, she thought.

“Well that’s perfect,” she said, nodding her head sarcastically. “We can stand here in the rain and make faces at each other all night. Let’s just take a cab somewhere else.”

“A cab? Not likely,” Will said, scanning the street. “This isn’t London, Hope, it’s Seattle. Our best bet is to start walking back to your hotel. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Hope furrowed her brow. She was in no mood for this. Wasting half the evening getting soaked just for the pleasure of his company? A guy whose loftiest ambitions in life were to fuck and eat? No thanks.

“Hope?”

Will brushed a wet lock from her forehead. She flinched and glared at him, unsettled by the presumptuous familiarity. She was confused, not understanding why this hadn’t angered her more. It should have. It wasn’t as if they were even friends. Hope mentally kicked herself for wondering if her hair looked a mess.

“Look, don’t be offended but I don’t want anyone from my team seeing us together,” she said. “I didn’t tell them we know each other. They’ll think it’s weird. We should just call it a night.”

Hope had forgotten how tall he was and, standing so close to him under the protective cover of the awning, she noticed his broad shoulders and narrow waist. I’ll bet he still rows, she thought. What a narcissist.

“C’mon, Hope, just have one drink with me. We haven’t seen each other since Callahan’s wedding,” he pleaded. “Are you seriously gonna snub me again?”

“Look, grow up. It’s late.”

“Why are you so uptight? I don’t get it.”

“Uptight?” She set her jaw and took a step toward him. “You’re saying I’m uptight? I’m not uptight. I’m, like, the complete opposite of uptight.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Hope,” he said innocently. “I guess I was thrown off by the stick up your ass.”

“You see? I knew this was a terrible idea,” Hope barked, emphasizing her words with jabs of her fingers. “Thank you for validating that.”

“Thank you for validating that? Have you been reading self-help books again, Hope?”

“Read this,” she spat. Hope held two bony middle fingers up at his eye level, backing into the pouring rain.

Will fluidly stepped forward and retrieved her by the elbow, causing her to bump against his hip. His hand nearly encircled her upper arm. It made her feel funny, almost like a little girl, curiously defusing her anger.

“Okay,” he said, gunmetal eyes glinting. “You’re right. I’m being an ass. I don’t know; you just bring it out of me for some reason.”

He took the jacket off his shoulder, opened it wide, and offered it to her. Hope didn’t move for a moment. She surveyed his eyes warily. Slowly, she lifted her hands, took the suit jacket, and held it over her head.

“Let’s just make our way back to the hotel and you can decide what we do from there, okay?” he continued. Hope just looked at him.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. Ready? One, two…”

*****

They flew through the teeming rain, picking their way between doorways and overhangs like some sort of urban fighters trying to avoid detection. Fifteen minutes later they burst through revolving doors into the hotel lobby, a tribute to stainless steel, Italian marble and grey velvet. The super-cooled air immediately raised goose bumps on Hope’s wet skin. She moved to the glass encased fireplace, hoping for some warmth, and turned back to Will.

He stood in the middle of the lobby with a puddle quickly accumulating around his feet. Guests gave him a wide berth and bellmen gave him dirty looks. He ran his fingers through his thick, wet hair, plastering it straight back and hooking it behind his ears. His dress shirt was completely soaked and transparent, fused to his hard, lean core. Soaked trousers clung to his legs. Will’s expression was that of a little boy who had just stepped off a roller coaster ride. Hope looked at the spectacle and laughed out loud despite herself.

“Tell me something,” she asked. “Are you ever unhappy?”

“Only when you’re cross with me, Ms. Allerton.”

Hope looked down at the loose fitting silk blouse she had put on after dinner. It was darkened with water and stuck to her body. Her slacks felt heavy and uncomfortable. She looked back at near-drowned Will who, she was sure, had summoned every last ounce of his willpower in order to keep his stupid mouth shut.

“Okay, one drink,” she announced. “We can’t stay here like this. C’mon. There’s a bar in my suite.”

What am I doing? I’m in no frame of mind to be doing this.

*****

The lock clicked and the soggy pair stepped into the twenty fifth floor suite. Will whistled. It was the size of a large apartment, appointed in dark woods and rich earth tones. Hope watched him move slowly through the living room, running a hand across the leather sofa and crotched mahogany desk, nodding his approval.

Hope tilted her head and contemplated the pleasing shape of his back and the network of muscles showing through the translucent fabric stuck to his skin.

Wait, she thought, where the hell is he going? She followed him disbelievingly into her sleeping quarters where he approached the ceiling-to-floor glass wall and surveyed the illuminated city beyond. He turned and glanced at the open suitcase on her bed, underwear and dirty clothes tumbling out of it. She was again struck by his disregard for the conventional boundaries that were supposed to exist between a man and a married woman. He was so unlike Phillip.

“It’s a nice room, Hope,” he said quietly, eyes glittering like the skyline behind him.

She nodded, momentarily at a loss for words. Hope was distracted by his boyishly tousled hair, his strong jaw line, and his overdue five o’clock shadow.

He took his drenched suit jacket out of her hands.

“Maybe you want to put some dry clothes on?”

“Y-yeah, of course,” she stammered.

A kneejerk impulse to play the gracious hostess betrayed her.

“Oh and… there’s a small bathroom off the living room. I’m pretty sure there’s a robe in there. You should, um… get out of those wet clothes.”

Hope furiously grabbed a pair of faded jeans and a clean tee shirt the second Will had left the room. Was that me who just invited him to get undressed or was that some madwoman who sounds like me? She pulled a skimpy Jean Yu triangle bra out of her suitcase and stared at it. Insane, she thought. She threw it back, picked up a basic full cup bra and a plain silk shorty, and headed for the master bath.

Hope stared at her mirror image as she peeled the wet clothes off her body. She pushed up her small, soft breasts and let them fall. She had been maniacally on the lookout for the slightest sign of droop lately, having celebrated her thirtieth birthday the previous winter. Turning sideways to check her tummy, she sucked it in a smidge and turned around to appraise her ass. She looked over her shoulder and stuck out her bum.

She shook her head in exasperation. What the hell am I doing? One drink. One drink and this guy was supposed to be out of here. Now what am I going to do, parade him naked through the lobby with his clothes in a paper bag? ‘Mr. Doorman, would you kindly get a cab for my business associate? He’s not wearing any clothes? Oh, I hadn’t noticed.’

She put on her panties and bra, muttering curses under her breath. Hope picked up a cylinder of lipstick, leaned toward the mirror, and began to reapply. She caught herself and flung it furiously across the room. Christ! She ran warm water over a washcloth, opened a jar of Vaseline, and began to remove her makeup.

*****

Will was standing at the bar when Hope entered the living room. He was wearing a hooded, cotton robe. Apart from the fancy hotel monogram, it resembled the kind professional boxers wore as they entered the ring. She thought it hung nicely on him. Nice calves, too.

Stop it! Jesus, keep it in your pants, Hope. You hate him, remember?

Will was pouring a cloudy white mixture through a strainer into two shot glasses. Wedges of lime swam among the ice cubes in the pitcher and the sharp, sweet smell of triple sec hit her nostrils.

“Kamikazes? Really? Did I miss the flyer for the frat party?”

“Wait…” Will cocked his head, darting his eyes around as if he heard a strange noise. “Was that…no… was that humor?”

“Fuck you.”

“Actually, I remembered that you used to like these,” he chirped, handing her a shot.

“It was college. We drank everything.”

“Well then let this be a nostalgic little salute to our sunny youth.”

“That’s a pretty big pitcher, Billy.”

They clinked glasses and tossed back the icy liquid. The tang of citrus tasted good and Hope licked her lips. She enjoyed the warm glow inside her chest. And yes, for an instant it did feel like she was back in school.

“Hope, I’m sorry but I just have to say this,” he paused. “You look really amazing. Seeing you like this … you look just like the girl I knew back on campus.”

Hope unconsciously raised a hand to her vigorously scrubbed cheek. Was he serious? She examined his expression for some sign of mockery. Full, dark eyebrows accentuated his lively, slate colored eyes. He returned her gaze evenly and she became aware of her heartbeat. Her face was warm and, she was sure, flushing.

“Thank you, Billy, that’s sweet,” she said through a forced smile. “Why don’t we sit down?”

She picked up the pitcher and shot glasses and...

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