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After
he viewed it, he shifted from serious to extremely giddy. He turned back to me
and I could tell by the smirk in his eyes that he was about to say something
stupid. “Guess what you’re doing tonight?” I patiently waited to hear my crazy
manager’s plans. Kyle moved around with excitement as if it was Christmas
morning. “You’re going to a strip club!”My friend sat at the table, trying to
force feed his ‘brilliant’ idea to me. It wasn’t working. “Don't you see? This
is what you need. A good lap dance, and maybe a nice one-night stand if you’re
lucky.”
    I wasn’t as interested. “Of course, and some nice herpes on
the side.”
    Kyle sat back in his seat; he appeared fucking shocked by my
statement. Really? Was it that shocking that I didn’t want herpes?
    “You're so judgmental it’s sick. It really is, Cooper.
Jasmine is a very pleasant girl.”
    “So let me get this straight. You want me to have sex with a
prostitute that you’ve slept with? No thanks.”
    “Stop it, stop it.” Kyle was outraged. Growing extremely
protective of this Jasmine chick, he snapped at me. “She's not a prostitute,
jerk. She's a stripper, and I don't appreciate how you are talking about her.
My God. When did you become so disrespectful? It’s disgusting. Besides, it’s
her friend who you are meeting up with.”
    “You're serious? I thought you wanted me to lay low?”My
fingers ran across my eyebrows, trying to figure out if he were serious or not.
    “Look, Coop. Think of this as a renewing of your life. I’ll
get you through the back entrance. No one will ever know. Jasmine just texted
me the girl’s number. You got your new phone? Type it in. I'll tell you what. If
it works, you do one of the many magazine interviews that are coming in. You
deal with your issues with Iris. You at least consider the other television
offers I have been getting. And you do what you do best, and make us a shitload
of money.”
    “And if it doesn’t work?” I questioned.
    Kyle lowered his eyebrows and rubbed his fingers across the
bridge of his nose. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll look into your ‘indie
photographer’ mumbo jumbo.”
    “Really?” That sparked my interest enough.
    “Really. Jesus would agree. Listen, just don’t get
all…weird. Okay? Like, don’t tell anyone about this ‘I met Jesus and he changed
my life in a psych ward’ type crap. Get a lap dance. Maybe have a little sex.
Just try to act like the guy you were before you found out your wife…” Kyle’s
sentence faded off and I was quick to chime in.
    “Found out my wife was a cheating, pregnant whore?”
    Kyle nodded as he picked up his bread roll and took a bite
out of it. “Exactly.”

 

     
     

     
     
    PROMISES. PROMISES TO love one
another. To pick up the milk on the way home. To not raise your children like
your parents raised you. To follow each other’s dreams. Promises to fight at
least once a month over some mediocre crap—and follow it up with some killer
make-up sex. To be with one another forever and always. Til death do us part. Til
death do us part…
    Screw promises.
    I just got a promotion.
    It smelled like crap in this place—a miniature dressing room
with too much hairspray, too many perfumes, and an overload of glitter. I stood
in front of the full-length mirror that had a feathery boa lying across it and
studied my body. I was wearing nothing more than a safari hat, a black trench
coat, and five-inch-high stiletto heels. I hadn’t even noticed I was digging my
fake nails into the palms of my hands until Ladasha came over and placed her
hands on my shoulders.
    “You don’t have to do this, Andrea,” she said. I guessed she
could see the fear in my eyes. I shook my head. Our rent was falling behind and
she had already stretched herself thin to make me comfortable in New York City.
Plus, I was the one who ran off our other roommate with my issues. I wasn’t
going to let Ladasha down again.
    “Don’t worry,