Too Late Mary Tate

Jackson Tippet’s smile had not changed a bit in the past twelve years. The awkward stretch of his lips, suggesting that the smile was not at all natural, to the tipped corners of the near-grimace (the direction of their point being the only indicator of a smile opposed to his frown) were exactly the same as his Formal night photo’s, dating back to 2000.  Nothing about Jacko T had changed, with the exception of, perhaps, a few extra wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

But Mary had always had a dreadful taste in men… according to her mother, Macey, at least. But considering Macey was once the widow of a labourer and now married to a real estate agent, one could assume that said taste in men may be hereditary.

Mary’s gaze fell downward as she raised her flute of Champaign to her expressionless lips, relishing the weightless feeling that the bubbles brought. Well, the alcohol and the bubbles, after all, Miss Mary was on her third glass and it was only 7.15 p.m.

“I see you are still compulsively early,” Jackson said, his forced smile morphing into one of pleasure at seeing an old friend.

“I’d hardly call fifteen minutes compulsive,” she spoke, her words punctuated by her Dulcie and Gabana dress, Tiffany jewellery and Calvin Klein perfume. “Champaign?” she offered him a sip of her own.

He took the glass and swallowed the three-quarter-full flute in one, long, draw. He passed the crystal flute back to the lovely girl and her emerald eyes simply looked into its seemingly endless bottom. Tonight was going to be a long night. And she was already out of alcohol.

“Nervous?” He asked finally after glancing around the room, which bore an all too similar resemblance to their Graduation Formal’s theme, A Heavenly Night.

“About seeing the people I shared my childhood with for the first time since we were free from this… place? Not at all.”

High School reunions. God’s punishment for the poor undecided bastards who, at 28, had no damn clue of what they wanted from life.

“You’ll do fine. Just smile, giggle, and show me off like a piece of prize jewellery.” His mouth pulled together, creating an almost attractive pout, causing a tiny dimple on his chin to reveal itself through the three-day-old scruff.

“You are unbelievably conceited, you know that?” Mary said as she sighed, rolled her eyes, and prayed to the lord that if your hired escort has been your best friend since kindergarten, then it wasn’t strictly a sin to pay for the company. “So how much is tonight costing me?”

“Well, if you were anybody else I would be charging four hundred an hour,” my eyes bulged at this proclamation. No wonder he was a hooker rather than a Vet. “But since I love you and it’s your birthday next weekend, let’s just call this an early present.”

“Or,” I suggested, “We can use this as a repayment for that two hundred dollar bail I payed for you and call it even?”

“Oh shush, I could’ve flirted my way out of those charges.”

“I’m pretty sure flirting is the worst way to evade prostitution charges.”

“Never! Besides, that lovely policewoman was hot for me, even you could see she was eating out of my hand?”

This pulled a laugh from my chest, “Her name is Louise and she’s a lesbian. Has been since we graduated. On that note, can you remind me again why you are here as an escort? You have an invitation of your own at home!”

“Who willingly goes to their high school reunion? Well, besides you anyway. I have enough dignity to not test fate and see what those hooligans can do this time.”

Jack caught a passing waiter – a perky blonde no older than nineteen, and took two more glasses from her. Passing one to Mary, he smiled and winked as the poor girl who appeared to be having heart palpitations.

“Unless offered a ridiculously large sum of money?”

“Shut up. You aren’t even paying me. It was just your sadistic way of luring me to this hell hole. Now, be quite and let me have some fun tonight. And tomorrow, we are back to the drawing board. We need a decent defence. The trial is only a week away.”

“What so I’m your lawyer now, too?” Mary could only roll her eyes. This was just so Jack. But he had done enough for her over the years that she would do almost anything for him. ANYTHING.

“Yep, so how about a dance? Everyone is looking a bit gun-shy, so why don’t we break the tension?”

Except dancing.

And that is how Mary Tate ended up winning the ‘Most Successful Woman’ award. After all, how could she not? The ugly duckling from Margrove State High School had grown into an elegant swan, decked in the finest clothing, working with the most elite attorneys in the world and had the class genius-turned hottie at her side. As far as anyone was concerned, Mary was the face of all ‘Most Successful Woman’ recipients.

Unfortunately for Mary there was only one person she could not fool. And that was herself… No, that’s a lie. I have been fooling myself almost my entire life. It’s that rat-bastard of a best friend and my all too nosey mother that think they ‘know best’.

Which is ridiculous. In what perverted parallel universe does a male hooker know better than an attorney?

“This perverted universe, my dear.” Jack replied to my inner thoughts.

“Shuddup,” I slurred at him, contemplating all the possible ways he could have just read my mind. I always knew he had wondrous powers that made women from all over fall to their knees, but I always figured these powers came from his penis, not that she’d ever seen it.

“You have too seen my junk…. Which I doubt is a good thing. Remember? When Johnny Davids dacked me in front of all the girls when we were in year four.”

My eyes blearily squinted as I recounted the memory. “That little thing? Girls go crazy over you because of two deshelled peanuts and a dead slug? Women! They get more and more desperate every day!”

“Well,” Jack begun uncomfortable, hitching my arm up around his neck and pulling me to his side, getting ready for the long short walk home. “I have gone through puberty since then.”

“Puberty is hellish, and the outcomes are brilliant, but I’m not sure puberty is that good. Even Johnny had a more developed package then you, if memory serves correct, and rumour has it, he’s the worst kind of small!”

Jack gave a dramatic sigh which could be challenged by only the most talented Bold and Beautiful actors and began dragging me down the street.

The walk took twice as long as usual (probably due to all the fire hydrants, cracks and poles I ran into) but we were eventually standing in front of my beautiful house.

“I love my house!” I informed Jack. “I love the blue window sills and the white walls and the little submarine window in the attic. Oh! And how I adore my beautiful rap around porch!” This moment of adoration lasted only a minute longer…

“Wait!” My eyes widened and I turned to my bestest friend in the entire universe. “I don’t own this house! I live in an apartment! And my roommate just kicked me out!”

Jack smiled tenderly. “Well, with all that gushing you do over this damned hunk of wood mixed in with my need for a house… well it got me thinking.”

Jack reached into his back pocket for a moment; the rustling of his pockets the only sound in the silent, cloudy night. His hand returned to view accompanied by a black velvet box. He slowly lowered to one knee and held the cube up.

“Will you,” he spoke softly and nervously, “Mary Kane become my lawfully, rent-paying housemate?”

I felt my eyes tear up as he opened the box, revealing a chrome key, styled much like those from the Victorian era. The key to my dream home.

“Yes.” I spoke, my voice loud and clear. “I will be your room house mate! I will!”

“Well then,” Jack said, pushing himself up, gaining balance once more on his two feet. “I dibs the master suite!”

And with that, Jack turned and sprinted away from me and toward our new home.