There we were, at the biggest party of the year (so far) and everyone was dressed to impress. Becky Jean and I did laps among the swirling crowd, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. It’s always fun to watch as she politely bats off the steady flow of hopeless suitors. Usually, with a smile.
Once in a while, a vaguely detectable vibe seems to give her an electric shot in the rear, sending her into high gear. Escape mode.
“Evacuate!” She’ll say, as she spins and makes her exit. I’m right behind her.
On this particular day, we were having a gay ol’ time. She was wrapped up in conversation nearby, while I spotted a pal from my early modeling days. You can’t miss her. The woman is (of course) tall, slender, and stunningly beautiful – especially her eyes: bright kiwi green, a lovely contrast with her coffee-colored skin. Could hardly concentrate on her pretty face though. With her scoop-neck top hanging down, almost to her belly button, her new boobs were so utterly distracting.
She had a lot to talk about. Herself, mostly. Sh listed off the recent bookings she’s landed. To prevent my eyes from glazing over, figured I should introduce this chick to Becky Jean. Then, sit back and watch the fireworks, as the two pretty ladies become either, a) best friends, or b) worst enemies. Sometimes, it can be hard to tell the difference.
But Becky Jean was talking to someone already. And this lady couldn’t wait.
With perfectly manicured hands, she first tapped Becky Jean on the arm, then tapped again harder, impatiently. Then she grabbed her, fingers digging in, almost clawing. (I was a little shocked to see it happen, honestly. How rude!) She literally pulled Becky Jean away from her conversation.
The lady had no shortage of modeling advice for Becky Jean. They got to talking. Once I saw they were enthralled, I moved on to neighboring discussions. In a few minutes, I initiated a bathroom run. Our new buddy came too.
I didn’t have to pee – just wanted to wash my hands. Becky Jean took a stall and our new lady-friend stayed with me, by the sink. At some point, their little talk took a nosedive. They were not fond of each other.
“Your friend is crazy,” she said, in not-the-quietest voice.
“Something tells me your personalities are not compatible,” I replied, blushing at the awkwardness of the situation. Stifling a laugh.
With such iciness between them, I got out of there. We didn’t stay much longer at that party. After, we hit our favorite gyros foodcart and Becky Jean filled me in about exactly what was said…
Becky Jean asked if the lady had seen where I went.
In front of a captive audience of party goers heading to/from the bathroom, she looked directly into Becky Jean’s eyes, glaring, “She went upstairs because she was embarrassed by your behavior.”
Finally, she slithered away.