Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue Ch. 01

I looked up from my laptop, doing my best to conceal my internal disappointment that I wasn't hearing those words under a different context. "Relax. You already did a pretty good job on this, I'll just polish it a little." Grabbing my beer bottle, I took a swig. "Not that I should, given that I would have won if you hadn't jumped the escape pod before I could."

Tish shrugged. "You got greedy, went for the 30-point artifact. Not my fault." She preened, pushing her arms skyward as she twirled in place. The game had taken far longer than it should have, as one of our players suffered from an extreme case of analysis paralysis. He added at least 45 minutes onto the play time and Tish hadn't been shy about drinking while waiting. "You can acknowledge me as the Queen of Clank! In! Space! and get on with your life, and by that I mean giving my presentation the super professional writer's touch. Type, peasant!"

My fingers began dancing again. "Might need to work on your motivational speeches, coach. Good game, though. Thanks for getting me into board games again. I don't think I'd played one since Scrabble with my grandparents decades ago."

"Even the best diamond can use a little polishing." Tish took a couple of glasses to the sink in her kitchen, which I'd straight-up kill for. The kitchen, I mean, not the glasses. Her entire house is amazing, although it seemed kind of big for just her. My place was much smaller but in a great location. "What time is your rugby game tomorrow?"

My reply owed to being distracted by trying to think of a better word than the one currently threatened by the cursor. "Match."

"Fine, your match. When and where?"

"1 pm. Barker Field, in the park."

"Okay." Suddenly her voice ramped up. "You getting excited about our BIG WEDDING ADVENTURE yet? Less than two days to go!"

"One sec." I held off answering as I stopped trying to fix an existing paragraph and instead rewrote it from the ground up, using her voice. "Uhm, are you?"

"Oh god, no, not at all." Her laughter rolled in like a wave at the beach.

"Then... why are we going?"

A heavy sigh. "Because I can't not go. The bride, Carolyn, she and I were practically sisters growing up and it would be weird if I didn't."

"But... you told me you weren't really friends."

"We weren't really sisters either, just two people more or less forced to spend time around each other growing up." She paused, then grimaced. "Along with her little sister, who was an odious creature then and unlikely to have become a decent human being in the interim."

"And she'll be at the wedding too?"

"Maid of Honor, I expect. No, Matron. She's married, I think."

I finished my revisions, offering a silent thank you to the gods of Google Drive. "This is all information that was not made available at the time you were coercing me into attending this shindig."

Tish tilted her head and gave me a look. "Would it have made a difference?"

I squinted with concentration before blowing a raspberry. "No."

She grinned as she took a seat across the table from me. "Of course it wouldn't have! Like any sane person would turn down the opportunity to walk into a gala affair with me on their arm."

"Gala affair?" My bottle was somehow empty - how had that happened?

"Oh yes, this will be QUITE the extravaganza, I imagine. Carolyn's parents own the biggest hotel in town and since it's being held there all stops will be out."

I shut my laptop and, after getting up, took my bottle over to the sink to wash it out. "Well, at least we can both get stupid drunk, then. I assume we're staying at said hotel?"

"You assume incorrectly, sir. Long story short, it would be wiser for us to lodge elsewhere and that's what we're doing."

"Oh, I think I'm going to need long-story-long in this case, Tish." I opened the fridge but decided against another beer, grabbing a bottle of iced tea instead. I knew I was welcome to crash here, had indeed utilized the couch before, but this morning I'd had another one of my drowsy imagination-fueled sessions that prominently featured my friend with a marked lack of clothing on. Thus, I was a little concerned over how I might ruin an amazing friendship by blurting something while under the haze of alcohol and yes, I was also fully cognizant of the fact that in a few days we'd be sharing a hotel room - or some sort of room - and was coping with that stress as well as I could, thank you.

Tish watched me sit back down, eyes distant. "I was figuring I'd save this for the ride out but I suppose now is as good a time as ever. Remember, you asked for this."

"Ooo, sounds sordid."

"Ha! You have no idea. First, let me get myself a drink. You want one?" At my head shake she shrugged and wandered into the kitchen, returning with something amber in a glass choked by ice cubes. Sitting down, she took a long sip, smacking her lips when she was done. "No substitute for good booze. ANYWAY, please enjoy this tawdry tale of my youth that I would ask you not to share with anyone else. My past is better off staying in the past but you have the right to know what you're walking into. Last chance to instead operate in blissful ignorance."

I gave a bark of laughter. "Hell no. I was going to ask you to make me popcorn."

"Just for that you're in charge of all of the gas pumping both ways."

"Not saying that's an idle threat but you have an electric vehicle."

She glared at me over the rim of her glass as she took another swallow. "Brave dude, calling my bluff. This is going to be a hell of a weekend." Putting her drink down, she rolled her shoulders before locking eyes with me. "The Gauthiers lived in the house next to ours in the town of Miller's Bluff. Still do, sort of. They own the biggest hotel around and struck it rich by managing to get most of the bookings from teams from other schools in the area to play against Penn State, which is about fifteen or twenty minutes away. Well, credit where credit is due, they went out and worked for them. Being close to campus but not too close is evidently quite a good selling point for keeping visiting athletes out of trouble. Miller's Bluff also has a couple of small factories and made a name for itself as an antiquing destination so the population is pretty robust for not being a suburb to one of the big cities."

"So far this is not the vulgar tale I was promised."

Tish stuck her finger into her booze before flicking drops at my face. "Patience, you nimrod. Now, my parents and the Gauthiers were the very best of friends. Carolyn was born a few months after I was and so, given how much our parents enjoyed each other's company, as kids we were around each other more often than not. As we got older we had sleepovers all the time, either at my house or at hers. Later we were saddled with the aforementioned little sister Theresa, who decided that the Terrible Twos could be more than just a passing phase."

I slapped my hands to my cheeks. "Scandalous! My virgin ears can't take much more of this!"

"Look at you, managing to be both a wiseass AND a dumbass at the same time. How very impressive," she said with a scowl. After draining her glass she set it down before pushing it toward me. "Make yourself useful and get me a refill, please. The honey bourbon."

I smothered another retort - I'd observed Tish's social drinking style before and it didn't include knocking back several fingers of the brown stuff as quickly as she'd done here - and fetched her drink without comment. Thanking me with a nod, she took a moderate sip and rubbed at her jaw with her free hand.

"Uhm. You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. It's not my intent to be a source of stress."

"Yet here you are." She smiled to let me know she wasn't blaming me. "No, if I'm going to march you into this maelstrom you ought to have your eyes wide open." She took a long pull from her drink. "So, on any given night I might wake up at Carolyn's house, or her at mine. As I got older I started noticing something odd - the same went for our parents."

I had been looking away but at that my gaze tracked back to her. "Say what now?"

"It wasn't unusual for me to come down from my room on a Sunday morning to find Mr. Gauthier - Sam - sitting in our kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the Times while wearing a robe that sure did look a lot like my mother's."

"Ah." I took a moment to try to parse that. "So your mom and her dad were having an affair and not afraid to be brazen about it?"

"No." She paused, possibly for dramatic effect. "All four of them were, well, involved. Swapping, swinging, whatever you want to call it. Her mom with my dad, my dad with her mom... pretty sure they tried all combinations, if you know what I mean."

"Like... an ongoing thing? Not once, but a couple of times?"

She laughed, took another swig. That glass was being emptied at a rapid pace. "Oh, you sweet kid. This went on for *years.* And they weren't too concerned with being subtle about it in front of their kids, although they were sure to tell us not to let anyone else know because 'they wouldn't understand.' So yeah, that was my domestic sitch until I was almost a teenager."

I sipped my tea, wishing I'd opted for a beer instead. "I'm hoping what I'm thinking happened didn't happen. To you, I mean. Well, to any of you kids."

"What... oh, no." Tish contemplated her ice cubes for a bit. "It wasn't like that. Nobody ever touched us. I mean, as far as I know. I can only speak for myself but there was never that vibe, you know?" She took care of the last swallow in the tumbler. "No, when I was twelve - on my birthday, as a matter of fact - my mother and Sam decided that this was no longer something they wanted to keep doing. Evidently there was an agreement that if at any point someone or someones wanted out the whole arrangement would be dissolved with no fuss or muss. Thanks for the memories, see you at the Nelsons' barbecue next weekend, that sort of thing."

"Guessing that didn't happen." I reached for her glass. "Another?"

She quirked her mouth as she mulled the question over before pushing the glass in my direction. "I'm not driving anywhere tonight." As I poured her refill Tish hummed a melody that sounded familiar but that I couldn't place, stopping to favor me with a warm smile when I returned to the table and gave her the drink. She lifted it and tipped it at me before taking a sip. "My compliments to the barkeep."

"My ability to pour a single liquid from a bottle to a glass is indeed unmatched."

"Well, between the ones I had while we were playing and these I daresay I am a wee bit tipsy." She looked down at herself for a moment before shrugging. "Given how big I am I shouldn't be a lightweight but, you know, I am. Wasn't dedicated enough to get my drinking reps in during high school and college or, rather, was too dedicated to living, eating, and breathing softball instead." Her fingertip traced a path around the top edge of the glass. "Where was I? Oh, right. No more open marriages in the Moreland-Gauthier section of Miller's Bluff. Except," she said, holding up a finger, "it turned out my dad - he's George - and Carolyn's mom - she's Sophia - they decided that they liked being with each other more than they liked being with their actual spouses, which threw a bit of a monkey wrench in the otherwise stellar plan of four people who had been fucking each other for a decade walking away with zero complications." Her sip this time was small, almost disinterested. "As you might imagine, things got pretty ugly. Dad and Sophia were adamant about staying together - they were in love, it was magical, blah blah blah - while my mom - Shelly - and Sam were devastated, as one might expect."

"Yikes."

"Oh, it gets worse." Tish rubbed at one of her eyes, possibly wiping away a tear. I did my best not to look while not looking like I was trying not to look. "Carolyn and Theresa were much closer to their father than to their mother so of course that meant that the whole thing was my fault."

"Wait, what? How does that track?"

She raised her palms skyward. "My father, my fault. That was the jist of it, as if I'd been whispering in his ear advocating for that outcome all along. I'm not saying it makes any sense, but that was what it was to those two. I'd never liked Theresa so her reaction didn't matter to me at all, but Carolyn? We grew up together and-" she snapped her fingers, "like that I was persona non grata to her. She wasn't overtly mean to me like her sister was, but she just... froze me out. We'd still hang out from time to time but it was all superficial, esoteric stuff. The sleepovers stopped, that's for sure."

I struggled to wrap my mind around all of this. "Where did you live? And with whom?"

"My mom and I stayed in our house, which I don't think was the healthiest option for her but when push came to shove there wasn't much choice in the matter. Dad was the breadwinner, after all." Tish rolled her eyes. "Carolyn and Theresa stayed with their dad in their house. The Gauthiers had a stand-alone garage that had a small apartment above it - I think Sophia used it as an office even though she had one at the hotel - and they expanded it until it was essentially another small house. We both had woods behind our properties and the people that lived on the other side of them were an older couple who either didn't notice or didn't care." She took another sip, her hand wobbling a little. "And thus the grand illusion was born."

"Grand... you mean they didn't tell anyone what was going on?" I was incredulous. "Nobody got divorced?"

"My mom filed eventually, like a day or two after I'd left for college. The Gauthiers either didn't want to or couldn't because they'd built their hotel together and it was their source of income. Big-time church goers as well, and I think they were afraid of how a scandalous divorce might play out and if it would affect their business. At any sort of event involving their daughters they'd be there together, putting on a show." Tish lifted her glass, thought better of it, and put it down instead. "Not used to the brown anymore and it is KICKING my butt. And I have a lot of butt to kick!" She giggled. "Once my mom filed they pretty much pretended that oh wow, from the tragedy of these divorces two friends found each other, how touching. Coming to a Lifetime Movie soon!"

"Ah, shit." I moved her glass off to the side. I don't think she even noticed. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Yeah. Worse for my mom than me. She drank - a lot - for a year or so before she decided that she wasn't going to do that anymore. Cleaned up on her own - I helped a little on the worst nights, mostly by just being there - and found herself a job a few towns away." She rubbed at her eyes for a bit. "She started seeing someone when I was a junior in high school. At first she told me she had to work late, that sort of stuff, but I noticed the new perfume, new clothes, and, since I did the laundry, new lingerie." Tish laughed. "If you don't want your daughter to know you're getting some maybe don't put your teddies through the wash." Planting her elbow on the table and holding her chin in her hand, she gave a slight nod in my direction. "How 'bout you? You like lingerie?"

Didn't see that one coming. "Uhm, why wouldn't I?"

"Yeah, I bet it looked good on all those models you dated, right?" She snorted.

"'All the models?' C'mon, only Jessica had been an actual model." I couldn't keep from grimacing as I mentioned her name. Drunk Tish didn't seem to notice. In fact her eyelids were starting to droop a bit. I grabbed her glass and headed over to the sink, pouring out the rest of the booze before washing the glass out and refilling it with water. Tish roused slightly as I placed it in front of her.

"Hmmm?"

"Methinks it's time for you to go to bed."

She blew a raspberry. "'Methinks.' Who are you, Shakespeare?" Before I could answer she stood up and, fixing me with an unsteady gaze, shook a finger in my direction. "You are a Shakespeare, though. Your book manuscripts are terrrrrrrific, and the series you're writing, why haven't you given that stuff to an agent? You know an agent, of course you know an agent."

I gave the glass a nudge. "Drink this now, thank me tomorrow. And none of that stuff is ready yet," I said in a waspish voice. "They all still need polishing."

"They all still need polishing," she mimicked, before waving her hand and making a dismissive sound. "How long are you going to hide behind that? Shit's good, Ted. You know I'm serious because I'm using your boring name." Using two hands, she managed to corral the glass and chug the water down. "Polishing it is what editors are for, you know that. Dunno what you're so afraid of."

Her words were super-annoying because she wasn't wrong, at least partially. I had a couple of cards from agents who were interested in working with me, but the last thing I needed right now was to get stuff I'd been fiddling with for years exposed as crap. Stifling a sigh, I moved next to her. "You're probably right."

''Course I'm right."

"You're also pretty hammered and I'm guessing you'll be happier sleeping in a bed as opposed to the couch or the floor." With gentle pressure I lifted up her arm, relieved when she rose without rancor or objection.

"Is anyone going to be in that bed besides me?" Her first step turned into a stumble as her foot got trapped behind the chair's leg, but my grip helped her keep her feet despite being distracted by the thought of me being that person, although certainly not in a situation like this.

"You and you alone, Tish."

"Boo. Boring."

I glanced at the steep staircase that led up to the master bedroom, then off to my right. "You okay with the downstairs guest bedroom?"

"Yeah, yeah. I keep it made up in case you or someone else wants to crash." We began walking in that direction, her like she was on the deck of a ship crashing through high seas. "Mostly you, though. You're the guy who makes breakfast the next morning. And not like cereal or that shit, but like... pancakes. Or French toast!" She turned to face me so suddenly her arm almost pulled free. "Would you make me French toast, Bear? Yeah, you would. Make you stay over one night, get me some French toast."

It was difficult not to laugh as she babbled on, managing to make it to the guest bedroom without incident. Flipping on the light it was revealed to be decorated in a lot of dark reds and scarlets, and Tish waved a hand around as I aimed her towards the bed. "This is my boudoir. Very sensual, right? Lots of sensual in here, absolutely. Don't go in that closet, though, unless you're here to be sensual and stuff." Her voice dropped to an exaggerated whisper. "Lots of sensual stuff in there. Make your head go kerboom. Ker-boom." She gave me a knowing smile before looking back at the bed. "Oh goody! A bed! How convenient." Her yawn was so wide her jaw cracked.

"What do you sleep in?"

Tish laughed. "A bed, you goof."

Well, I deserved that. "I mean, what do you wear to sleep in? What clothes?"

"Ohhhhh. Shorts and a tee shirt. Like these," she said, waving her hands at herself.

"Good. Do you leave your bra on?"

"To sleep in? Hell, no."

"Okay. Can you get it off yourself?"

She made a half-hearted effort to get her hands behind her back. "Hell, no."

I sighed. "Okay. Is it a sports bra or one with clasps in the back?"

"Clash... class... the second one."

"Do you want me to get it?"

Eyes closed, she nodded. "Yes. Very much so."

"Okay. Hold still." I stepped behind her and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, lifting it up until I could see the hook-and-eye arrangement... which was several rows taller than I'd ever encountered before. The prominent muscles in her back twitched as she waited. Jesus, she was physically stunning. "This is like Fort Knox."