All This Time

29 ⦿ in which i mess up

"You did what?" Brett screeches, her mouth hanging open in shock as I calmly sit down at my desk and meet her eyes.

"I kissed him," I tell her, simple and matter of fact.

Brett's cheeks redden and she yanks her choppy blond hair behind her head, using the trademark black elastic on her wrist to secure her messy ponytail.

"He's going to mess you up," she says, shaking her head. Then, "Again," she adds, for good measure.

"You didn't see him yesterday. Things were actually good between us."

"One good day versus the last five years of crap?" Brett holds her hands in front of her, palms up. Her left hand dips low and her right hand stays where it is, mimicking a scale. "Yeah, real even," she says, dropping her hands to her sides.

"I'm giving him a chance," I defend, scowling at her.

Brett shakes her head. "Have you even googled this guy? I have. He's dated actresses and models and socialites, Char. It's a never-ending parade of women. This guy wouldn't know a real relationship if it bit him in the ballsack." She gives me a pitying look. "Guys who hurt you once are going to do it again. That's why you break up with them before they get the chance."

That's been Brett's mantra ever since college, when she dated dickhead Warren, the senator's son, who told her that she wasn't the kind of girl he wanted to introduce to his parents. The succession of boys she dated after him was no less impressive: Xavier, the tortured artist who was too "artistic" to be monogamous; Dan, a day trader who had online girlfriends in almost every continent; Steve, the guy who recorded over her college graduation video with a football game; Mark, the theatre major who hooked up with a stagehand and the director after the opening night's performance of Othello - with Brett in the audience.

"Not all guys are like that." Changing the subject, I grumble, "Why do I have a bad feeling about Liza's visit?"

"Probably because that girl is a struggling two and she's trying to date a nine," Brett responds offhandedly. 

I can't hold back my smile. "She's a what?"

"A two." Brett gives me a wicked grin, then hops up on the corner of my desk like a secretary from Mad Men, and crosses her legs. "You know, like on the hotness meter." She grabs a peppermint from the little bowl next to my computer keyboard. 

"She's not that bad." I don't even know why I'm trying to defend this client who I thoroughly dislike, but part of me feels a little sorry for her. "I bet she could be a six if she really tried."

Brett's eyes light up. "I have an idea."

I glance at my watch. Ten more minutes before Liza's supposed to be here. "Shoot."

"So you know how I was googling Wolf?" She unwraps the striped candy noisily and pops it into her mouth.

Balking, I hold my hand up. "Nuh uh. Brett, I don't want to hear anymore about his 'parade of women', thank you very much. I figured he had a past, but as long as it's not part of my present, it's not my business."

"It's not about Wolf!" Brett exclaims, slipping off my desk to sit opposite me in the chair. She leans forward, puts her elbows on the table, and whispers, "It's about Diana."

"Diana?" Now there's a name that I haven't had a reason to think about for years. A vision of a blond goddess swims before my eyes and I expel a breath in resignation. "Don't tell me, she's still part of his life?"

My stomach clenches. It's hard to erase years of history. And Diana is gorgeous, even if she didn't strike me as Wolf's type. I can readily believe that the two of them dated again sometime in the past five years.