Three | Sloan

"There's a scuff on this shoe. I get ten percent off for a defect." A bright red heel was being held up to my face, as if I was blind. "How much would that be?"

After a week of retail, I had become used to obnoxious customers. However, this one had been into the store three times this week. My patience was being tested, and I was already in a sour mood. Today, my bank account officially hit a negative balance.

I gripped the woman's wrist and lifted it, revealing the sticker on the bottom of the shoe. My first thought was: why on earth would this woman need four-inch kitten heels in cherry red? And then I reminded myself not to care.

"They are ten dollars." I pointed to the newly applied sticker labeled $9.99.

"Right. But I get ten percent off because they have a scuff! How much off?"

Is she serious? I looked between the shoe and the customer as she idly waited for the answer.

"Move the decimal and subtract it."

"What decimal?"

The only decimal there is?

Yeah, I can't get a job with a G.E.D., but this woman drives a Lexus and can't move a decimal to the left. A dollar, moron. Ninety-nine fucking cents. I pressed my fingertips to my eyes, drawing a deep breath and talking myself out of laughing.

"That's fifty cents off." I allowed my inner bitch to win, scanned the shoe, and deducted fifty cents from the total.

The woman happily paid for her shoes in cash and strutted off with her amazing deal. I reminded myself I was going to hell anyway as I slid the cash into the register. I used my hip to slam the drawer shut before looking for more plastic bags to restock my counter.

My work day was nearly over, thank god. Exhaustion and the email notice informing me of my checking account bouncing didn't help. I spent three dollars on Melatonin to help with the lacking sleep and now had to pay a thirty-dollar charge for hitting a negative balance. The increased anxiety was just going to increase my sleepless nights, rendering the Melatonin useless. Being poor and depressed was a vicious circle I couldn't escape. My frustration was now being taken out on the box of bags as I took scissors to it.

"Here." TJ slapped an envelope down to the counter.

I eyed the envelope cautiously. Other than some minor register training, TJ had been keeping his distance. I liked it that way. He pushed it forward with one finger and then retreated his hands to the pockets of his navy dress pants.

"What is it?"

"It's an advance on your check. Just a week's worth."

I slid the envelope back towards him, unwilling to take his handout. "No."

Payday was next Friday. I would figure something out until then. I was great at pinching pennies when needed. Selling my car was still an option, especially with the amount of walking I'd been doing lately. That could be enough to stop some creditor calls.

"Sloan," he huffed, "you are stubborn and always have been. I get it. You work hard and don't want handouts. That is not what this is. You've got no money, right? You would not be standing in this store if you didn't have to be. How bad is it? You had money saved for school. Where did it all go?"

So many questions and none had simple answers. Tears were pooling in the corners of my eyes as TJ waited intensely. It was the first time I felt like having a breakdown here, and I wasn't prepared to break that seal yet. If I became comfortable crying at work, I'd never stop.

TJ's head bobbed, understanding completely. "I promised not to bring him up, and I won't. Take the check. If you need another week's worth, tell me and we will figure something out. I'll find you extra hours somewhere. Inventory is coming up, and I'll need help."

The envelope was once again extended to me. I told myself not to take it, worried it would come back to bite me in the ass. TJ was once a good person, other than his cheating fiasco. Part of me wondered if this was his way of sneaking back into Hallie's good graces. Little did he know, I still hadn't mentioned my new employer to my best friend. I was hoping another business would call back about my resume, but of course, that didn't happen.

His hand shook. "Take it, Sloan."

I sighed and grasped the envelope, surprised when he didn't release it. He gave it a tug, causing me to step forward. TJ stared uneasily at the ground at our feet, telling me what was coming.

"What he asked of you wasn't fair. If you need to talk, I will listen. Don't put it all on Hal. It's been almost six months, and I can clearly see you are not the same person. He fucked you up good."

I tore the papers from his hold out of spite. Did he not just say moments ago that he wouldn't bring up Steve? This was not the time or the place for me to unleash my feelings on the subject.

"It was my choice." I stood confidently. "One I would make a hundred times over again. You did not stick around, and therefore you do not get the details of what you want to know. I love Steve and made the right decision. You are a shit friend. Hallie understands why I need her."

"Yeah," he said, agreeing with a frown that made my stomach churn. "That I am."

There was a lot of hurt to be heard in his voice. The door chimed, signaling another customer had entered. TJ excused himself to greet the man, and I knew it was an excuse to exit the conversation neither of us wanted to continue. Once he was out of eyesight, I opened the envelope, seeing a dollar amount which would get my account out of the red. I could even buy some groceries for dinner tonight. The rest would be given to Hallie, because that part he was totally right about. My friend didn't make the choice; I did. Hallie was literally paying for it.

>>

"God, just look at him." Hallie ogled the TV. This was probably the twentieth time she had said this since we had sat down in front of it. "Ugh. Sloan, he's perfect."

I looked across a room littered in pillows, blankets, snacks, wine glasses, and emptied plates from our steak tacos with fresh pico de gallo dinner. Our girl's night was in full swing, right down to our favorite movie, Pretty Woman. The movie's lead actor was already prematurely graying in the early nineties.

"He's ancient, Hal. He could be your grandpa."

A pillow was thrown at my head from the floor. It just grazed my cheek as it flew too high and landed behind the couch. I knew better than to insult Richard Gere in front of Hallie.

"He's hot! A goddamn silver fox. I can't even imagine what he would do with my body beneath his."

I coughed on my wine, nearly causing it to expel from my nostrils. Completely disgusted, I stared at the back of Hallie's head, unsure of my friend's sanity at the moment. Nineties Richard... maybe. Richard today... gross.

Hallie sat like a preschooler on the floor—her legs folded into the shape of a pretzel, elbows resting on her knees with her chin on her fist. She was sitting so close to the TV that I had half a mind to scold her for trying to ruin her vision. It would be no use though; Richard Gere demanded Hallie's full attention at close range.

We loved this movie since we were young teens. It was one of the few movies Hallie's adopted parents owned on VHS, and I found a working VCR in my foster parent's basement. It was practically an antique, but we made do with what we had. TJ made it function, and the movie was basically on repeat after that. Of course, we had no clue what the movie was actually about until we were older.

As teens, Hallie and I worshiped the character played by Julia Roberts—a poor and beautiful woman being chosen by the rich and successful heartthrob to be showered with expensive gifts. Now the concept just pissed me off, knowing life did not work out like that, and working hard for money was more rewarding.

"I need that man between my legs. ASAP," Hallie said.

I was going to need more wine. And possibly a bucket for my vomit.

I stretched my body straight on the couch until my toes hit the armrest, then flipped to my stomach and reached to the end table. With one hand I held the wineglass, and with the other I used the spout of our boxed wine. Our favorite wine flowed freely into the glass. I wasted no time pressing the goblet to my lips and knocked back the sweet, red liquid.

Classy wine drinkers we were not, but damn, we loved a good cheap wine. I hadn't come up with a way to tell Hallie that TJ hired me yet. A buzz wouldn't hurt to assist with this. Knowing my nights with Hallie, this box of wine would not make it through the night.

"Sloan, can I ask you something?"

I peered over my wineglass to Hallie and took one last gulp of its contents before setting the empty goblet down. My stomach was already churning, wondering if my best friend had already learned the truth. She refused to speak to TJ. How could she know?

I sat up straight. "Sure?"

Hallie leaned back on her hands, eying me carefully from her spot on the floor. Whatever this question was going to be, it was obviously serious. Hallie had turned away from her favorite sexy piano scene to focus on me.

"When was the last time you had sex?"

My eyes widened with shock, unsure of how to answer that question.

"Was it with Steve?"

"Of course it was with Steve!" I scoffed, even though it was a fair question.

"So, obviously over six months ago." Hallie correctly began doing the math. "More than a year?"

"Hal!"

"Why are you getting defensive? We used to talk about our sex lives all the time."

I sank into the back of the couch. Yeah, that was when I had a sex life to discuss. I had never been shy about sex before Steve. Now it was different. Just because I wasn't having it, didn't mean I needed it. I didn't feel ready for it.

"Over a year," I said, confirming. My face flushed with embarrassment.

Two boxes of wine should have been purchased for tonight. I wasn't expecting to discuss my sex life and my new employer. Hallie turned back to the television, realizing she had missed her favorite part. I hoped this meant the end of the conversation. Hallie crawled her way forward and pressed rewind until Julia Roberts was being lifted to the top of the piano.

"I think a good fucking would do you good," Hallie said, returning to her spot. "You need some orgasms to mellow you out. No joke."

I nearly choked on air. "Oh my god, Hallie!"

Hallie giggled and laid her back to the floor. Her long blonde hair pooled itself into a heap on her pink pillow. I laughed with her, and it felt good. For a moment, I could forget how badly my entire body ached with depression. For that one moment, I felt like it was a normal night with my best friend.

Hallie motioned with her hand to our television. "Tell me that's not hot!"

Richard Gere was all over Julia Roberts, dropping her robe and grazing his hand over her silky, black negligee. It was definitely hot—I couldn't disagree. It made me very aware that my body was lacking any sort of attention.

"That's what you need, Sloan. An older man between your legs. His hands all over you and turning you up to eleven without ever kissing your lips. No love, just a night of hot, steamy piano sex!"

Incorrect.

"I don't need an older man between my legs. I don't need anyone between them. And what is your fascination with older men?" I tried to steer the conversation away from my non-existent sex life.

"They know what they're doing down there. They have experience. They are only second best to your own hand."

My eyes rolled as I sat up. I began collecting all the trash we had accumulated during dinner, needing to find a way out of this entire conversation once and for all.

"I'm not kidding!" Hallie hurriedly crawled to pause the VCR. "There are three types of males, Sloan."

"Three?" I asked. "I don't need to know about any..."

"Yes," Hallie said, cutting me off, "you do. Boys—no confidence and fresh out of high school. They have no clue what they are doing and couldn't locate the clit if it had a goddamn beacon landing on it."

I laughed. Now she was just sounding ridiculous. I picked up my wineglass knowing Hallie was about to follow me to the kitchen.

"Then," Hallie continued behind me, "there are guys. You know, the college type. The ones our age. They fuck to fuck. It's all about them. They think they know everything and are far from it. Cocky, only because we fake it to make them feel better about themselves."

I cackled. "Wow."

She's been giving this a lot of thought.

"Men, Sloan. Men are the ones who take their time and can get you off with a touch of their strong, experienced hands. They pay attention to every part of your body, making sure that you orgasm multiple times. Not only can they find the clit, but they have found the magical G-spot."

My eyebrows raised without agreeing. I wouldn't know. Apparently, boys and guys were the extent of my sexual experience, and that was fine. Those orgasms seemed acceptable.

"I worry about your intentions for working at that nursing home, Hal. Those poor old men don't know their CNA's intentions."

"Hell no!" Hallie's face scrunched with disgust. "Too old! You wouldn't believe how many of those horny old bastards I find wanking themselves."

Gross.

Hallie shrugged before returning to the living room. Wanting to leave any further discussion of men and sex behind for the night, I focused on the dishes that were piled high in the sink. I pushed the sleeves of my sweatshirt up to my elbows, plugged the sink and began running hot water. It didn't stop me from hearing Hallie leave her spot by the TV to rush around the duplex. I figured Hallie was picking up what was left of our mess instead of finishing the movie. I had about half of the dishes rinsed and placed into the plastic drying rack when Hallie reappeared with a smile much too big for her face. It was a look I knew well—my friend was up to no good.

With a groan, I tossed the dishrag to the counter. "What did you do?"

"Well," Hallie began talking with her hands—another sign that she had done something I wouldn't like, "I was in the city last week and decided I would help you out. So, I did a little shopping."

"Help me out?" My brows lifted. "With what exactly?"

Hallie bit at her nail but forced herself to stop after I lifted my palms.

"I thought maybe a date with yourself would help with your depression. Like a spa night for yourself. So, I set one up for you in the bathroom."

Oh. I smiled with relief.

I folded my hands into the front pocket of Steve's old sweatshirt—the only piece of his clothing still in my possession—and told myself not to cry with her gesture. This was such a Hallie thing to think of. She could be a handful, a little crazy sometimes, but she always thought of others first. Especially me.

"You didn't have to do that, Hal. You've spent enough on me, and..." I stopped myself before spilling news of TJ being my new employer. Now wasn't the time to drop that bomb. Waiting until tomorrow to give Hallie some money seemed like a superb plan. "Thank you. I think I could use some me-time."

"No problem!" Hallie giggled.

She disappeared from the kitchen. The movie started again, telling me Hallie would be enjoying her own alone time with Richard Gere. With one glance towards the dishes, I decided they would still be there in the morning. A self-made spa treatment sounded fantastic after working a full week for the first time in months. My entire body ached just from standing behind a register.

I proceeded up the stairs to the bathroom, passing Hallie who was enticed by her movie. From the hall, I could smell lavender and vanilla. The barely lit room flickered from a row of candles surrounding the tub, and on the vanity, there was a small selection of bath bombs, a stack of People Magazines with a pen for the crossword puzzle, the last of our boxed wine with a fresh glass, and a mask that was going to make me look like a cheetah. I inhaled the soothing scent of a glittery bath bomb, selecting it as the one I'd use tonight. This was exactly what I needed. With my exhale, I allowed any worry of Hallie's earlier intentions to go out the window. This was perfect.

I stripped out of Steve's sweatshirt, folding it carefully and placing it on the closed toilet seat, and pulled open the top drawer of the vanity. It took a few minutes before I found a rubber band for my hair and a few pins to secure my bangs. I bit down on the band, gripping my hair with one hand, and slowly drew the partially opened shower curtain to one side.

"Jesus!" I screamed, slapping my chest in fright as my lungs tried to leave my body. The hair tie fell from my lips to the floor.

Something had been waiting for me behind the curtain. Where there was normally nothing but bare tile, there was now an obnoxiously large object protruding from the wall, and it was glowing. I knew Hallie's giggles couldn't be trusted.

"Hallie!" I shouted loud enough that our neighbors likely heard through our shared wall.

I'm going to kill her.

With both hands, I tugged on the lime-green item until it popped free, almost sending me to my ass. With it firmly in my grasp, meanwhile feeling ridiculous, I descended the stairs faster than ever to find Hallie laughing hysterically from the couch.

"What the fuck is this thing?" I waved the most absurdly large, glow-in-the-dark, limpest suction dildo I had ever seen. I couldn't even wrap all my fingers around it.

"It's called The Hulk!" She continued giggling with a mixture of hiccups. "I found it in the clearance bin at The Back Door! Five bucks and I had a coupon for twenty percent off. Mine is pink and purple! It doesn't glow, but it's glittery. It's called The Unicorn. Not bad for the price. Mine has been fun."

There was so much said by Hallie in that one breath, I didn't know where to start.

"The Back Door?" I cringed.

"The sex shop behind the laundry mat on Fifth!" Hallie's enthusiasm was practically bouncing out of her. "I always shop while I wait for our clothes to dry. I'm like their best customer. They like... love me."

I'm sure, I thought. Sounds really classy.

"You've seriously been fucking our shower?"

"Hell yes!" Hallie jumped from her spot and grabbed the monstrosity of a toy from my hands. I followed close behind as she ran up the stairs and back to the bathroom. "The shower is a good lay, don't judge!"

The sound Hulk made when being slapped up against the shower wall was just as absurd as the thing itself. I was positive the neighbors could also hear this. It was back to glowing. All I could do was shake my head at it.

"It's huge." I winced, unable to stop myself from imagining it being used. "And limp..."

"Bendable!" Hallie said, demonstrating how far she could bend it upwards. Her interest in this was slightly terrifying. "Trust me, that's a bonus feature right there!"

"Dear god," I muttered with widened eyes.

Men don't bend like that, and neither should the sex toys meant to stand in for them.

"You're my height. I find lining it up with the shampoo shelf works best. He might need some adjusting, but you're going to love it!" Hallie smacked my ass on the way out of the room. "Get you some, girlfriend!"