Part 2 (1/2)

”Back at you, you ball-breaking hag.” We clink beverages.

”Waaaaait, what ah all y'all talking 'bout?” Laurel chirps from her perch on the end of the boat.

”Laurel, take some of that s.h.i.+t off your head and maybe you'll be able to hear us,” I yell back at her.

Laurel, from Charlotte and in charge of the South, is swaddled in a straw hat, a scarf, and huge Jackie O sungla.s.ses. Her nose is coated with an inch of zinc oxide, and she's wearing a Windbreaker with a towel wrapped on top of it while holding an umbrella.

”You are aware that it is almost eighty degrees out here, right, Laurel?” Ryan asks. He's back from cruising. Apparently no one was hairless enough for him.

Jeff inquires, ”Are you, like, allergic to UVA rays? That would be a b.u.mmer.”

”Or has a recent bat bite made you an unholy creature of the night?” I query.

”Y'aaaaaalllll,” she whines in a honeyed North Carolina drawl. I wish I had an accent like that. The Texan girls on my team can tell you to go to h.e.l.l with such a lovely magnolia-and-mola.s.ses tw.a.n.g that you look forward to the trip.14 ”Don't make fun of me. Y'all know my weddin' dress is strapless and ah'm trying to avoid unflatterin' tan lines.”

Ah, yes. Her weddin'. How could we forget Laurel's upcoming nuptials? She's not only discussed this topic TO DEATH for the past three days, but also weekly on our group's conference call, and monthly in our New York meetings. I enjoy Laurel's company, but if I hear another word about bridesmaids, tulle, or ”the most gorgeous little pet.i.te filet mignons y'all ever did lay eyes on,” I'm pus.h.i.+ng her over the back of the boat and I am not kidding.

”Laurel, I was asking Jeff if that was St. Augustine over there,” I say, pointing at the distant sh.o.r.e. Oh, please. Like I'm going to share Jeff's recreational drug use with the rest of the cla.s.s?15 Besides, I am curious to know more about St. Augustine. Meri says they have great shops, so I make a mental note to check out the stores when our conference ends tomorrow. I haven't shopped at all while we've been down here. When I get back to the resort, maybe I'll do a bit of eBaying before dinner. I considered buying a few items in the Sawgra.s.s gift shop yesterday, but it's mostly golf-related, and I do hate me some golf. Any ”sport” where you can smoke and drink while playing is not exercise.16 Why not just go to a bar and save the greens fee?

Speaking of Meri, she's a shoo-in to be named manager of the year at the final banquet tonight. She runs the Houston office and helped her team raise sales almost 400 percent last year, so the fact she's sleeping with her director is totally irrelevant. (Although don't think for one second it's not what we talk about every time she leaves her seat.) And who starts sleeping with their boss AFTER they get promoted, anyway? However, I'll cut them some slack because they're both single.

My account executive Courtney, however, is NOT single. She recently became very much engaged, which is why I'm aghast to notice her foot disappearing in the direction of Chad-from-California's lap. (When we met, he told me I could call him Chadifornia or CaliChad, but I told him that stupid nicknames render me mute, what with all the bile rising in my throat. He laughed because he thought I was joking; I wasn't.) Courtney and I sit next to each other in the primo cubicles with the lake view in the Chicago office. Since I joined the company, Courtney's become one of my confidantes, and within the confines of our jobs, we hit every networking event together. Lately, we've socialized outside the office, too, which is part of the reason I'm so appalled. I don't mean to sound self-righteous, but in the seven years I've been with Fletch, I've never even flirted with another guy,17 let alone stick my foot up his shorts at a company function!18 I learned about Court and Chad's little tryst last night. I stopped by her room before heading to dinner, and it took her a long time to come to the door. I knew she was there because I'd just talked to her from the house phone. It's not like our hotel rooms were huge and she couldn't hear me. Must be in the bathroom, I thought. I knocked harder and waited.

When she finally opened the door, I saw that she was dressed for the banquet...sort of. The b.u.t.tons on her summery cotton cardigan were askew; her floaty chiffon skirt was inside out and the pleats were mashed. Her normally impeccably smooth blond bob was completely bed-headed. Did she get dressed in a hurry?

”Hey, Court.” I invited myself into her room. ”What happened to you? Looks like somebody rode you hard and put you away wet.” HA! I so crack myself up sometimes. ”Have you been napping or something?” At that point, I noticed Chad, also in a state of disrepair looking sheepish on her mussed bed. A lightbulb went on in my head as I worked my way through the equation.

Ohhh...yes, there were napping.

Together.

Napping together?

Napping together.

Napping together...Chadifornicators!

Then I remembered that she was engaged to Brad and got momentarily fl.u.s.tered. I don't know how to handle it when normally good people go all untoward.

”Welllllllll, hiiiii there, Chaaaaad. It's nice to seeeee you again.” I drew out my words because I had no idea what to say next. I started to stammer. ”So, um, what have you guys been doing? Been sleeping together? Wait! No! Not like that, I mean, not together, like, you know, nap time? In kindergarten? And, um, no, no-I mean-so, are you going down on each other? Gah! With! With each other! To dinner,” I finally spit out. Subtlety has never been one of my finer qualities.

Chad turned beet red and busied himself with his shoes. I caught Courtney's eye in the mirror and raised an eyebrow at her. Her flush confirmed the most indelicate of my suspicions. So busted.

Witnessing their guilt helped me recover my composure. ”Oh, gr-gr-grow up,” I finally sputtered. ”What I meant to ask is if you're going down for c.o.c.ktail hour?” They nodded in sheepish silence. We stood around looking at one another for a minute, and I realized I needed to take command of the situation lest they fall back into bed. I snapped into drill sergeant mode, determined not to let Courtney's indiscretion in any way mar my big night. Dammit, I was about to win the market leaders.h.i.+p award, and this victory would not be overshadowed by tawdry gossip about my team.

”OK, you need to fix yourself up, p.r.o.nto. Take a quick shower because you REEK of Chad's cologne. And, Chad, really? Drakkar Noir? No.” They stood mute in front of me, not moving.

”Courtney, when you're done in the shower, be sure to go heavy on the foundation to cover up the whisker burn,” I said pointedly in Chad's direction yet again, ”and I'll find you an outfit to mask your-ahem-hickey.” I directed her toward the bathroom with a gentle shove. ”GO! Don't worry. I'll entertain your gentleman caller.” Reluctantly, she entered the bathroom and closed the door.

”Well, Chad, we're faced with the dilemma of covering a hickey because apparently you make out like a high school soph.o.m.ore. Let's see...scarves, scarves, does she have any scarves in here? Oh, I see some attached to the headboard, so, yeah, scarves are probably out. My, my, aren't you an interesting first date?”

I headed over to her closet to paw through the hanging garments, lingering over each item I inspected. ”Let's see, no...no...cute but V-neck, so no...Ew, this one's atrocious, don't you think?” I asked, waving the hideous embroidered tunic in front of me like it was made of kryptonite. ”Chad, could you f.u.c.k a girl wearing a s.h.i.+rt this ugly? Wait, don't answer that. OK, no...no...Ooh, this one would look good on me,” I said, holding a blouse up while admiring myself in the mirror, ”but, no, it won't work for tonight. Almost out of options here. No, no, hey...wait, we're in luck! This will nicely do the trick.”

I banged on the bathroom door, yelling over the sound of rus.h.i.+ng water. ”Yo! You're going to wear your cream sleeveless Ann Taylor turtleneck. Pair it with those cute Stuart Weitzman snakeskin slides, your khaki Gap Capris, and a wide black belt, and no one will know you've been whoring around this afternoon. And you know what would totally enhance the outfit? Your engagement ring.”

Task complete, I examined the contents of Courtney's minibar. ”Can I fix you a drink?” Chad appeared to be mortified beyond belief. Good. I'd heard through the corporate grapevine he was trouble, and I didn't want him corrupting my top producer.

”Yes, please,” Chad croaked.

I tossed ice in gla.s.ses, poured a couple of strong gin and tonics, and grabbed a can of macadamia nuts. I settled on the couch across from him. He clung to his drink like a drowning man to a life preserver. ”Oh, Chad, I'm making you nervous, aren't I? Forgive me. I'm just really protective of my friend. I guess I let the rumors about your lack of ethics affect how I treated you, and I'm sorry. I bet you're a really nice guy and not nearly as slimy as everyone says. Why don't we start over, maybe get to know one another?”

Exhaling for the first time since I'd entered the room, Chad said, ”I'd like that.”

I gave him an angelic smile and said, ”Tell me, Chad, what do you like to do for fun when you're not nailing other people's fiancees in a sadom.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic manner?”

Anyway, I'd thought I'd nipped yesterday's infidelity in the bud, but Courtney and Chad have been pounding beer today and have completely lost their inhibitions. Right now they're snuggled up in a sheltered corner of the boat and-are they heavy petting? Fortunately, the way we're all sitting, I'm the only one who can see them.

Though it's probably none of my business, I'm p.i.s.sed because Courtney's fiance, Brad, is such a nice guy. He wors.h.i.+ps her. Sometimes we do couple stuff together and that obligates me to protect him. h.e.l.l, he took her to Hawaii two weeks ago, and she didn't get back until right before we left for Florida. I doubt his credit card statements have come yet. Besides, her s.l.u.tty behavior makes the whole Chicago office look bad.19 Their mas.h.i.+ng gets more heated. I see tongue. Ugh. I stand on my chair and shout, ”WAITRESS! DRINKS! NOW!”

Oh, Court, just because you look like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct doesn't give you license to act like her. C'mon, guys, these are your coworkers and this graphic public display of affection is both embarra.s.sing and unprofessional, and...wait a second-Courtney, WHERE DID YOUR HAND JUST GO?

GAH! This is a company function and in broad daylight, you are giving Chad a- The waitress returns with beverages at this exact moment. I can tell from the look on her face that A) she also witnessed Courtney's busy hands and B) she's utterly mortified. Bad touch! The rest of our group notices the waitress' discomfort and cranes to see what she's gawping at.

For G.o.d's sake, now I'm going to have to something n.o.ble to distract everyone from Courtney and Chad and what looks like the beginning of a p.o.r.no movie. And chivalry is SO not my style.

”Hey!” I bark so abruptly that the server almost drops all the drinks she's carrying. It's also loud enough to bring Ron Jeremy and Jenna Jameson to their senses. Everyone looks at me while the horn dogs pull themselves apart.

I yank a crisp hundred-dollar bill out of my coordinating floral Kate Spade wallet and smack it on the waitress' tray. ”Next time, could you please serve our drinks a little faster?” I tap the face of my TAG Heuer watch while my enormous Lagos Caviar jeweled ring catches the light. ”The clock is ticking, you know.”

Her eyes narrow, but she accepts the tip. White lipped, she tucks my Benjamin into her cargo shorts while glaring hot-red death at me. But I had to divert everyone's attention somehow, right? Had I been thinking, I would have yelled, ”Shark!”

I arrange a smirk on my face for the benefit of my companions and shrug. ”I just don't like to wait,” I explain as the waitress retreats. Everyone hoots in appreciation, except for Courtney, who silently mouths thanks at me.

Yeah, you're welcome. Because that waitress is SO spitting in my next c.o.c.ktail.

Our conference ends without incident and we head home to Chicago. Fletch will pick Courtney and me up from O'Hare. Even though we've been together forever, he still voluntarily does the airport run, and if that's not a true sign of love, I don't know what is. Except maybe a princess-cut Tiffany engagement ring...

Actually, our not being engaged is my fault. I keep upping the ante on the cut, color, clarity, and carat that I require, and I think he's afraid to price rings. Yes, he's successful, but I doubt that Bill Gates could keep me in the kind of jewelry that I want. Besides, a ceremony isn't necessary for him to prove his feelings to me, especially since we have a very expensive apartment to support.

OK, I will admit the idea of a big Michigan Avenue production, complete with all my sorority sisters in hideous matching satin dresses,20 a scrillion yellow tulips tied with pink-and-mint-plaid ribbons, and a big catered to-do at the Drake with a top-shelf open bar and peapod-wrapped shrimp trays circulating while a string quartet plays right before your choice of prime rib or lobster tails is served may have crossed my mind. But only once or twice.