Page 24 of Sure Shot
Bess: [Eyeroll emoji.]
Tank: But we could have a sleepover. You and me. We play Detroit next month. You and I could have a secret rendezvous.
Bess: Dream on, Tank.
Tank: Oh I will. Goodnight, sexy.
Bess: Goodnight
Nine
But You’re a Woman
Bess
October
“All the manicurestations are up front,” Rebecca says, sweeping her arm toward the shop’s windows. “This part is basically finished.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, taking in the long, L-shaped sofa with bright pillows. “That’s a cool painting, too.” Adjacent to the windows is a brick wall with colorful wings painted onto it.
“That’s for Instagram pics. The wine bar is going in over there.” Rebecca points to the opposite wall. “And the pedicure area is in back. We’ll have eight stations—four on each side. And a sliding divider, for private parties.”
“Private parties,” I echo. It would never occur to me to party at a nail salon.
Although maybe it should. Chapter Two of my five-year plan is titled “Nurturing Female Friendships.” It’s not just my love life that’s suffered as I poured all my energy into my business for the past years. There aren’t many women in sports management. I have friends, but they’re all dudes.
So when Rebecca and Georgia asked me to meet them for a cocktail and a peek at the half-finished nail salon, I agreed in a hot second.
“Who wants a margarita?” Georgia asks. She’s got tequila, lime juice, and sugar out on the salon’s new gleaming stone countertop, and she’s filling a shaker with ice from a bag.
“I do!” Becca’s hand shoots into the air.
“I’d love one,” I add. “A small one, though. I have a date at seven thirty, and I probably shouldn’t show up sloshed.”
Georgia sets the shaker down with a thump and lets out a little squeal. “A date withwhom? This is so exciting.”
“It’s not all the way toexciting,” I hedge. “I don’t even know if he’spromising. Internet dating freaks me out a little. So I chose the most harmless guy from the pack.”
“What’s his name?” Becca demands. “You can learn a lot with a name.”
“Brian.”
“And what does he do for a living?”
“Something complicated and financial.”
“Ah,” they say at the same time. “Yeah, a finance guy will never murder you,” Georgia agrees. “So he’s got that going for him.”
“You say that,” Becca says, flopping down on the sofa. “But what if he is justposingas a banker on Tinder? What if he’s secretly an MMA fighter or the leader of a motorcycle gang?”
“Wow, I’m surrounded by conspiracy theorists.” I laugh. “Eric said the same thing.” I don’t mention that I’d actually be excited about meeting a fighter. I’d pick his brain about tactics inside the ring.
“Eric knows about your date?” Georgia asks. “That’s cute.”
“Yeah, I needed someone to know where I was going and with whom. But if I’d known I was seeing you two tonight, I could have spared him the involvement.”
Note to self: it’s less embarrassing to tell your girl posse your dating foibles than your business partner.
