Page 3 of Reckless Abandon
Present Day
Wasting All These Tears
Why the hell was I broke all the time? Oh yeah, I was a teacher. If I'd known ten years ago what I know now, I clearly would have chosen a different path. When I met my ex-husband I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to do with my life. We spent many late nights laying in each other’s arms talking about where our future was headed. From early on in our relationship, I knew that kids were something very important to Lucas. We'd both decided on teaching as a career. I knew I wanted to be the Girl Scout troop leader and Lucas would coach little league. Having a teacher’s schedule meant that we could always be home for our kids. We had it all planned out with the white-picket fence, two point five kids, dogs, the whole nine yards. Never did I think at thirty that I would be broke, divorced, and unable to have kids.
As if on cue to get me out of self-pity haze, Ali came crashing through my door.
“Auntie Ry! Are you ready? It’s pool day! Let’s go swimming.” She was about the cutest seven-year-old I'd ever seen. She had long, bouncing, chestnut curls that were the exact color of her big eyes. She was a miniature version of her mother. I was so lucky that Rose and her daughter have been there for me since my divorce. Her family has always been my saving grace.
“In here, baby girl,” I yelled from the kitchen. I was filling the cooler up with waters and snacks for our girls' day at the pool.
“Want to help me finish making your favorite? Peanut butter crackers.” She immediately ran to the drawer, grabbed her plastic knife and dove into the peanut butter jar. Ali and I have spent time in the kitchen together for as long as I can remember. When she was a baby, I would place her bouncer seat up on the counter and she would just watch me for hours while I would bake cupcakes. Our relationship had always been a special one. My divorce was especially hard on her. Just as her and I have that special connection, she also had one with Lucas. He was just beginning to teach her to play tee-ball. One thing about Luc, was that he definitely had a way with kids.
Rose walked in a few minutes later on her cell phone, arguing with her husband again. Work stuff, as usual. I gave her my best stink eye to get off the phone. It was supposed to be our girls' day. She responded by sticking her tongue out at me. I needed reinforcements. I elbowed Ali and she knew just what to do.
I tried not to giggle as Ali dropped her knife and cried out, “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Within seconds, Rose was off the phone and tending to her. Rose treated that little girl like she was made out of glass. Both of us busted out laughing and slapped high fives. “Works every time Auntie Ry.”
“Not funny you two,” Rose moaned. Yes. Yes it was. Well, to Ali and me it was hysterical. “Are you two brats ready? I need to get my legs out in this beautiful Nevada sun before it gets too hot out there. It’s supposed to be 102 degrees by this afternoon.” We grabbed the cooler and the pool bag and were off.
Ali jumped in with the neighborhood kids as soon as Rose smothered her in sun screen. Rose’s husband, Jeremy, had insisted that Ali be in swimming lessons as soon as she could walk. Vegas is nothing but swimming pools, and it was a smart thing to make sure your kids were strong swimmers. Ali had recently mentioned wanting to start swimming competitively. At just seven, it was amazing to watch her with the other kids. She teaching the little ones how to kick their feet while gliding through the water.
By ten a.m. the pool in my complex had filled up quickly. I snagged one of the cushioned lounge chairs and found the spot where I knew the sun would be most of the day. I grabbed my Kindle and a bottle of water and did my best to settle in for my day of relaxation. I knew I could get lost in the romance of the latest T.J. West novel. Why couldn’t real life romance be like that? I would take any of the men of JINKS any day. I thought I had that with Lucas. Damn it. It had been almost a year, it was time to stop dwelling on shit from the past.
“So what’s up Jeremy’s ass now?” I asked Rose trying to change my thoughts.
“Same old shit. Work for him is slow. Construction can be a fickle bitch. Sometimes there’s work and sometimes there’s not,” she shrugged her shoulders. “So while his work is slow, I’ve picked up some more hours at the club to help bring some extra money. During the summer months, business really picks up. He’s acting all butthurt that I will be spending too much time at work and not enough time with him and Ali. Sometimes he doesn’t think things through before he picks a fight.”
Rose and Jeremy have been together since they were seventeen years old. The two had this unbelievably deep connection, yet they constantly had these pointless arguments. Rose was stunning; five foot nine with legs for days, stunning dark brown eyes and long tresses to match, a smile that could grab anyone’s attention, and the best tits money could buy. Jeremy was tall, ripped with muscles and a southern gentleman. The two of them together were a walking wet dream that melted the panties of both men and women.
“Ok. This week. Next week it’s candy and flowers and lovey-dovey time. You two are a never-ending circle.” I snickered.
“You wouldn’t have it any other way.” Rose blew me a kiss and put her ear phones back in, turning her attention back to Ali, and the others playing Marco Polo in the smaller kids’ pool.
I glanced around my community’s pool and tried to figure out where I fit in the puzzle of relationships. To my left, was the mom brigade. A nice group of women in their thirties and forties, who have their husbands at home barbequing hamburgers, with their flock of kids running all over the place. No matter how hard I tried, I will never be part of that group. To my right, you had the college kids. Young, hard bodied twenty-somethings that are ready to party at moment’s notice. Fun to look at, but definitely a scene I happily left years ago. Is there a place for a thirty-year-old divorced, broke teacher?
“Bitch, are you even listening to me?” Rose pushed me and almost knocked me off my chair.
“What the fuck? Sorry, I was daydreaming. What did you say?” I had no idea how long she’d been talking to me.
“Ugh! What do you want to do for your thirtieth birthday? It’s coming up next month,” Rose asked. Okay, so technically I wasn’t thirty but it was close enough.
“Nothing. I don’t care.” Rose knew I hated my birthday, but she loved it and I wasn’t going to deny her the pleasure of my “Dirty-Thirty” party, as she liked to call it. “You plan. I’ll go along with any of your shenanigans,” I gave in. I could instantly see her mind working overtime. Oh, dear Lord, what had I just agreed to?
***
What the hell? What time is it? There was a solid banging on my front door. It was the kind of knock you always teased sounded like the cops. Yeah, arrest the boring teacher at…I rolled over to see what time it was…oh shit, it was already eleven-thirty. Well, it was my birthday.
“Open up! Get your ass out of bed, and answer your door, bitch!” Ah yes, the lovely wake-up call of my best friend. Hooker better have coffee.
“Alright. I’m coming.” I rolled out of bed, grabbed a pair of yoga pants that I threw on the floor last night—one of the few perks of living alone—tossed my blonde hair up in a messy bun and looked around for Roxy. I saw my beautiful blue nose pit bull sleeping in her bed in the middle of our small yard, all four of her large paws in the air. You never knew who Rose would bring with her on party nights, and not everyone sees the gentle seventy-five pound fur baby I do. That's exactly why I love having her around. Watching people freak the fuck out when she runs up to them and licks their toes is quite amusing.
I slowly made my way to the front door and checked the peephole. Yes, just Rose. And coffee. “Happy thirtieth birthday to my best biotch ever!” she shouted as she pushed her way into my kitchen, with two venti Starbucks and a bag full of muffins. She tossed everything on the counter and rushed back out the door. She came back in with three large boxes in her arms and a large bag draped over her shoulder. “Let the dirty-thirty party begin. It’s you and me, babe, for the next few hours, then the glam bitches will get here at three to make us look fierce, and our ride will be here at seven.”
“The glam bitches?” I asked, raising one eyebrow at her.
“Yup. Their name not mine. The girls I work with are coming over to give you a head-to-toe make-over for tonight,” Rose explained.
I looked at myself in the mirror on the dining room wall for a moment. Boring, divorced school teacher. I know that’s the way Rose saw me. Hair in a bun, black rimmed glasses, and shirt buttoned all the way up. Damn, I was a walking cliché. “Am I that bad that I need a whole squad?” I whispered to myself.