The Sun and the Moon [Wattys 2015 winner]

Chapter 8: Four Cosmos

It all came crashing down on me that night as I ordered my fourth Cosmo with Marie.

I had felt a buzz, an energy, my entire drive back to Santa Barbara. I was happy. I was basking in the relaxation from my orgasm from Ryan, reveling in feeling something, anything, and excited about my date with him on Friday. The experience of getting up close and personal with the Sun God seriously rocked my world. Yummy yummy. Taking the rest of the day off of work cemented my good mood. It was like I forgot I was ever depressed.

If you don't realize that's incredible, I'll tell you: that's incredible.

After going home and relaxing and showering, I changed into dark jeans and a silky dark purple camisole with a soft, dark gray, cashmere belted cardigan and stilettos and took a taxi to meet Marie at the trendy watering hole on State Street that we decided was our usual place.

Already one sheet to the wind by the time I walked in, Marie greeted me with a squeal. She could be a bit loud. Worse when she was drunk. I loved her anyway. She saved my life, literally. I'd do anything for her. She's a tattooed, pierced, opinionated vegan dynamo. Skinny, busty, foul-mouthed, with a heart of gold and hair that changed colors on a weekly basis. Today it was pink-ish, to match the Cosmos. She attracted plenty of attention from the group of frat boys sitting at the next table.

I proceeded to catch up to her alcohol-wise and grill her about her recent activities. By the time I was done with Cosmo Number 3 and ordering Cosmo Number 4, I told her everything about Ryan. Everything.

I thought the shriek could be heard on the moon.

"YOU SLUT!" she screamed. The closest frat boys leaned in to listen.

My heart stopped. Omigod. She was right. I was a slut. I didn't know anything about him and I slept with him. I've barely spoken three sentences to him. Total slut.

Fuck.

Still.

Lawyer instincts kicked in and I defended myself.

"I am the farthest thing away from a slut."

"I KNOW!" she yelled.

"And there's nothing wrong with being a slut."

"I KNOW!" she yelled.

"So why are you yelling?" I yelled back at her.

"I DON'T KNOW!" she yelled.

I was getting nowhere but drunker and drunker. The frat boys looked at each other and at us like they were going to speak, but instead they just grinned identically. Shit.

But it dawned on me. I was banging the pool guy. So to speak. He just happened to be a surf bum/coffee shop manager instead of the pool guy/gardener/plumber/repair guy/fireman. I belonged in bad eighties porn. Professional woman gets all her bedroom fantasies fulfilled.

Now I know that's not a very nice thing to think. I've already admitted that I'm a snob. But this made me feel like I was using Ryan just to get over my depression.

Here's the good part about being a lawyer: I know how to argue.

Here's the bad part about being a lawyer: I know how to argue. Even with myself.

The "I'm a slut, I'm not a slut, it's not wrong to be a slut anyway" tug-of-war continued for a little bit in my brain and then I resolved it, definitively. Well, definitively, for now. As definitive as I could be after four Cosmos and while ordering a fifth.

"Marie, he's a gorgeous guy and for some reason I am attracted to him. He's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I want to see him again."

"Then do it," she said in a slightly lower decibel level than before.