It's In the Stars Read online

  I almost forgot smart. Smart is very important. Maybe even a deal breaker. I’m no Einstein, but I do need a guy who is intellectually stimulating. I’ve dated some in the past who weren’t and it bothered me. One guy actually told me once he wanted to go to Paris but not France. His dick might have been big but his brain was the size of a pea!

  Romantic is nice. And manly and decisive, but not pushy. If I say something’s off limits, it’s off limits. For those guys who are obsessed with the back door, this one’s for them.

  I think I pretty much hit the main ones. I’m can’t bear to sit next to someone eating liver (it truly nauseates me) but I always let a guy know this if it’s on the menu. I’m not as bad as Victoria who won’t date a guy if he puts an artificial sweetener in his coffee (too girly) or is under 5’10” (she’s 5’ 11”) or has the dry cleaner crease in his shirt (I can’t figure out why this bothers her so much).

  I read over my finished list. God, I sounded like such a bitch. And I really don’t want to come across as a bitch. Maybe I should revise and soften it a bit.

  Three cups of coffee later I scrambled out the door and headed for the office. Our newsroom is only a few blocks away, sandwiched between a health clinic and a donut shop, near the city square. It’s an easy walk, but I need my car for reporting assignments so I have to drive.

  One of the benefits of being a general assignment reporter is the variety of assignments I’m given. Unlike Frankie, who has the health beat and rarely covers anything not health related, I cover a bit of everything. One day I might interview a woman who started her own soap company and the next a soldier returning from war. I love that my job is never boring and I’m always learning new stuff.

  After stashing my lunch in the break room refrigerator, I headed to my desk. The newsroom was a huge open space filled with individual workspaces. The cubicle walls were low so you could sit at your desk and look across the room. Televisions hung from the ceiling. While the openness aided in communications, it was a pain in the ass when Matt or someone else talked so loudly you couldn’t concentrate. I keep a pair of earplugs in my drawer for just this reason, but even the expensive pair I bought don’t deafen the noise completely.

  I’d just settled into my seat when the freakin’ fire alarm went off. At first I was really annoyed, but then I remembered Hottie Advertising Guy and I had to use the same door to exit the building. The same door, people! So I waited until I saw him head over and I timed my exit so if it all went according to my plan we’d reach the door at about the same time.

  But just as I was about to close the distance, I tripped and flew forward. I stretched out my arms to break my fall and Hottie turned around to see me kissing the carpet.

  He extended his hand. “All you okay?”

  My face felt hot. I was sure it had to be the color of his red power tie. “Aside from being totally embarrassed, you mean?”

  He smiled. “Well, at least you weren’t holding a cup of coffee. That would’ve been worse.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Do you always look on the bright side of things?”

  Hottie shrugged. “I try to. Don’t you?”

  I was about to answer but the publisher, who was holding the door, yelled for us to get out of the building.

  So we did end up going out the door together; it just wasn’t in the way I’d hoped. When we exited, Hottie’s advertising friends waved him over to their huddle near the lamp post and I joined Victoria and some others near a parking meter painted to resemble a huge bubble gum machine.

  Victoria leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Smooth one.”

  “Believe me, I didn’t try to trip.”

  She smiled. “Well, at least you got his attention.”

  I sighed. “But that’s not the way I wanted to get it.”

  Several minutes later, we were allowed back in the building. It turned out to be just a drill.

  Hottie was among the first ones through the door and I mentally smacked my head for blowing my chance to at least introduce myself.

  An hour later, I left to check out the cat house. When I arrived, authorities had just finished removing dozens of cats from the home. They cited a mother and daughter for cruelty to animals. They’d been accused of hoarding more than fifty cats inside their home under unsanitary conditions. The home was found to be “unfit for human occupancy” and condemned. I’m not a cat person. I prefer dogs, but I felt really sorry for the cats.

  Chapter Three

  Saturday, July 16

  Focus on improving your appearance. A makeover might be in order. Consider going to the gym or a hair salon. You might be surprised by the attention changing your appearance brings. Tonight: Try something different.

  I’m a complete idiot! I didn’t go out with Victoria and the others last night because I was a good girl and listened to Horoscope who told me to curl up with a good book. I stopped at the used book store on my way home from work and picked up a romance the clerk recommended. I’m a sucker for a good romance, and this one had me turning pages into the early morning hours. I love happy endings, or at least a sliver of hope the relationship is headed in the right direction. And this book delivered. Of course, had I known that Hottie Advertising Guy would be at the same bar as my friends, I would’ve ditched the book for a shot at my own happily ever after.

  I couldn’t believe it when Victoria called to give me a recap of last night.

  “You’ll never guess who was at Joe’s,” she yelled into the phone.

  I held the phone several inches from my ear. “Stop yelling?”

  “Sorry.” Victoria talked softer. “But guess who came in?”

  “The guy you met in the biography section at the bookstore?”

  “No.”

  “The cop you talked into giving you a warning instead of a speeding ticket.”

  “No. Christ, Sydney. It’s not someone I’m interested in. It’s someone you’re interested in, although I would be interested in him if you weren’t. So if you change your mind about him, let me know.”

  “Hottie Advertising Guy?”

  “Yep. And he looked absolutely dreamy.”

  “Damn. Wish I hadn’t listened to my horoscope.”

  “Told you that idea was silly.”

  “Was he with anyone?”

  “No girl if that’s what you’re asking. He was with another guy from the ad department. The bald giant with the size fourteen shoes.”

  “Dennis?”

  “Yeah, him. Hottie looks like a toddler next to Dennis.”

  “Dennis is nice,” I said.

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t, but my entire body could fit into one of his pant legs. Jesus, what size do you think he wears anyway?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. What was Hottie wearing?”

  “Jeans, Oxford blue shirt.”

  “Tucked in or out?”

  “Out. And the sleeves were rolled up. I’m telling you he looked hot.”

  “Hands off, Victoria. You promised.”

  Victoria sighed. “I’m not going to go after him, Sydney. Unless, of course, you decide you’re no longer interested in him.”

  I’ve never met anyone quite like Victoria. She’s a slut, but a great slut. She’s definitely the horniest woman I’ve ever met and admits she lost count of her sexual partners by the time she was sixteen. At that age, my make-out sessions consisted of kissing and some light petting. I’ve learned a lot from Victoria over the past year and in some weird way, I admire her. She’s bold and comfortable with her sexuality and that’s something I’ve always struggled a bit with. I’m always afraid that when a guy sees me naked he’ll mock me. Aside from my hammer toe, one of my breasts is noticeably larger than the other.

  Victoria’s news bummed me big time. As much as I liked the book, I would’ve liked seeing Hottie at the bar more. Maybe she was right. Maybe this horoscope thing is stupid. Just as I began to mentally list the reasons why following my horoscope was a dumb idea, I glanced down at the newspaper. I had opened it to the horoscope page when Victoria called. I read Cancer’s entry and when it said what I’d been thinking, I decided to keep the faith – at least for another day.

  My hair has been driving me insane for a few weeks. I was going to let it grow out but it’s at that in-between stage and I don’t think I can stand to look in a mirror one more time and see the tangled mess of black curls. As an aside, I’ve got to be the only adult who still uses a child’s detangling spray. Seriously. When I was little, Mom couldn’t get through my hair without it. Trying to calm my curls without drowning them in detangling spray is downright dangerous for the comb. And now that my hair is getting longer, the tangles are becoming even more tangled. It’d be very easy for me to grow dreadlocks, which I’ve never seriously considered even though Victoria thinks I should.

  So today’s horoscope suggesting the makeover was just the push I needed. After the gym, I planned to hit the salon and see what can be done about this unruly mop. Maybe I’ll even ask for some highlights. Pink or blue would be perfect. I needed a makeover.

  For a Saturday morning, the gym was packed. I found the only free treadmill and it was wet with sweat. Gross! Why are some people pigs? Seriously. You’re supposed to wipe off the machine when you’re done exercising but obviously some idiot didn’t. So I got some wipes and cleaned it off. It made me gag. I’m a bit neurotic when it comes to public surfaces anyway, and actually seeing the sweat on the machine made me itch.

  About forty minutes into my run, I spotted Hottie Advertising Guy across the gym. I’d never seen him here before, but I wasn’t surprised he was a member because we had a company discount.

  My throat tightened as he walked towards me. Sweat dripped from my face and onto the treadmill. My shirt and shorts were soaked. I nonchalantly sniffed my armpit and confirmed it smelled like sweaty socks.

  Maybe he won’t recognize me, I thought. He’s never seen my hair in a ponytail. But that also means he’s never seen my pointy elf ears. I felt like a fly caught in a spider web. I was stuck, unable to move, waiting for hope to be sucked out of me.

  I looked down. Keep going. Keep going. Don’t stop. You do not see me. That’s it. Walk on by.

  “Hey Jason!”

  Hottie Advertising Guy turned around.

  A guy dressed like he was a walking ad for Nike yelled, “Can you spot me?”

  Thank God! Hottie Advertising Guy turned around to help Nike Man lift weights.

  I took a sip of water and checked to see how many calories I’d burned. Oh, shit! It was 666. I loathe that number. I increased the speed on the treadmill so the counter would change.

  Normally, I’d lift weights after finishing my run on the treadmill. But I didn’t want to take the chance Hottie would see me all sweaty and stinky, so I bagged that part of my workout. Instead, I hit the sauna before showering and going to the salon.

  Stephen ran his slender fingers through my mess of black curls. He’s been doing my hair for a year now and we hit it off almost immediately. Too bad he prefers guys. I usually go about every five weeks but I hadn’t seen him for a while.

  “So what do you think?”

  He shook his head. “It looks like shit, but it’s not a lost cause.”

  I smiled. “I can always count on you to be brutally honest, can’t I?”

  He patted my shoulder. “And you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “True.”

  “So I’ll snip here and snip there and layer it a little and you should be good to go.”

  “What about a blue chunk on the side?”

  “Blue? I was thinking pink.”

  “Pink is good.”

  “Yeah, let’s do pink. It will pop against your black hair. You’re sure, right?”

  “Absolutely. My horoscope told me to try something different.”

  Stephen cracked his neck. “You actually believe in that crap?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing else has worked so why not give it a try? Maybe if I follow it I’ll find a guy.”

  Stephen threw a gray drape over me and snapped it at the back of my neck. “Sorry, I can’t help you in that department. But give it time. It’ll happen.”

  “I just turned twenty-six, Stephen. That’s TWO SIX! I’m more than a quarter century old. Another twenty-five and I’ll be fifty and my life will be half over. I’m ready to find Mr. Right, or at least a few Maybes. And following ‘normal’ dating procedures hasn’t worked.”

  Stephen cleared his throat. “By normal dating procedures you mean hanging out at area bars?”

  “Yeah. And staking out the gym, which hasn’t proven advantageous either. Nor has the library or the bookstore or the coffee shop where all the nerdy but nice guys set up office for the day in booths that have receptacles underneath. So yeah, it’s me and Horoscope, baby. Can’t do any worse than I’m doing now.”

  Stephen worked his magic, snipping and layering so quickly his hands were a blur.

  “So how’s David?”

  “We broke up.”

  “You broke up? But I thought he was your forever.”

  “Me, too. But he dumped me for a guy fifteen years younger.”

  “Oh, Stephen. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Not many people do. It happened about two weeks ago. I came home and he had moved out.”

  “Shit!”

  “Yeah. I’m swearing off men for a while.”

  “Geez, we make a good pair.”

  Stephen laughed. “It’s just too bad we both prefer men.”

  By the time Stephen was finished, I felt like a new woman. And the pink chunk on the side was the perfect choice.

  “Stephen, you’re a genius. Thanks!”

  He removed the drape. “At least I make my clients happy.”

  I stood. “David’s dumb.”

  “And I’m dumber for falling for him.”

  I patted Stephen’s back and handed him a tip. “Don’t worry. Mr. Right will come along.”

  “Thanks,” Stephen said. “Yours will, too.”

  I had some errands to run before going home and getting ready to go out with the girls. By the time I got to Joe’s, Victoria, Frankie and Jada were cozying up at the bar. Jada saw me first. “Love. The. Hair.”

  Victoria and Frankie turned around and I was greeted by a chorus of oohs and aahs.

  “Love the pink!” Frankie said. “Bold and sexy.”

  “Who wants a buttery nipple?” Victoria asked a little too loudly. Two guys a few stools yelled they did.

  I’ve never had one, but I know Horoscope told me to try something different today so I was game. The bartender lined up four shot glasses and mixed some butterscotch schnapps and Irish cream.

  Victoria, Frankie, Jada and I raised our shot glasses. “To new beginnings!” Victoria said.

  We all downed the shot and I licked my lips. It tasted like a butterscotch candy. Definitely too sweet to do more than one.

  “Who would name a drink Buttery Nipple?” Frankie asked. “I wonder what was going through the person’s mind.”

  “Maybe it was named to attract men,” Victoria said. “Imagine walking up to a guy. How would you like to taste a Buttery Nipple?”

  We laughed.

  “There’s a shitload of drinks with dirty names,” Jada said. “Some are really vulgar. Like Creamy Pussy. Imagine ordering that for your love interest.”

  “That’s really a drink?” I asked.

  Jada nodded. “It’s Baileys Irish cream and strawberry cream liqueur. It’s actually not bad if you can get by the creamy pussy part.”

  I shook my head. I’ve gotten quite an education, sex and otherwise, since moving here. It took me a while to get used to our frank discussions, but I’ve come to appreciate that not all friends share what we do. We’re open and honest and feel comfortable sharing intimate details. Even though I grew up in a bigger city than Victoria, Frankie and Jada, they know so much more than I do when it comes to sex. I had limited experience in that department and a lot of what I learned, I learned from Sex Week at school.

  The university I attended held the event every year. I thought my mom and dad would flip when they heard about the student-led event. But I actually learned some cool stuff, like how to pick sex toys that don’t harm the environment.

  My bestie Jen and I bought a pack of condoms one time and practiced putting them on bananas. We’d compete to see who could get the packet open and on the banana the fastest. I always won.

  Because of Jen and our condom-banana bouts, I was ahead of most girls in Latexology, which covered when to use condoms and how to put them on. My favorite program was I Love Female Orgasm presented by two sex educators.

  Victoria took a sip of her beer. “Don’t look now, but that guy at the end of the bar in the white button-down shirt is hot. And I mean hot.”

  “Is he alone?” I asked.

  Victoria licked her lips. “Seems to be. Wonder if he’d like company?”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Jada said.

  We watched as Victoria walked over and slid into the bar stool next to him.

  “How much you want to bet we don’t see her the rest of the night?” Jada said.

  Frankie pulled out her cellphone to check her messages. “I thought she was with Steve.”

  “Only when she’s horny and doesn’t have anyone,” I said.

  Frankie shook her head. “So it’s one of those we’re not going out any more; we’re just friends who sleep together situations?”

  “Precisely. It works for her and it works for him.”

  Jada sighed. “There’s not much action in here tonight. Let’s check out the bar down the street.”

  “The biker bar?” Frankie asked.

  Jada shrugged. “Why not? It might be fun.”

  We finished our drinks and left for the biker bar. Victoria and White-Button-Down Shirt were eye banging like crazy and I figured it was only a matter of time before they left the bar and did the real thing.