Fag Hag [#Wattys 2016]

10. Dr. Tits

That night Lulu, Julian, and I huddled intimately around an impossible to get table at Dallas's trendiest new bar. Julian arranged the gathering insisting, "Monday night's the new Thursday night which was the new Saturday night."

Lulu, looking perfectly posh in her black slip of a Calvin Klein dress, sat sipping her pomegranate martini and whispering into Julian's good ear.

Julian, in tight red bedazzled jeans, sat pretending to listen while busily scoping his prospects.

I'd chosen my favorite Chloe Jeans, so thin they resemble paper and as tight as papier-mâché, paired with a white tee and blazer, dressed up with Lulu's sky-high red Jimmy Choo's.

"So let me get this straight, darlin'." Julian trapped me in his sights. Calculatingly he sipped his scotch, giddy with gossip. "He has no car. He has no house. He has no job. And he didn't want to fuck you?"

"Shut up, Julian," I said, clearly without ground to stand.

"Hahahahaha Wahahahaha," he responded meanly, choking on his drink and winking at an attractive young man nearby.

"I told you he wasn't your type, Annie," Lulu chimed in smugly.

"Yeah, I guess so." I checked my phone for the millionth time that night. "He should've called by now."

"Rut Ro. I think I see a Scooby Snack," Julian broke in with his catch phrase and jumped from the table. He snatched his scotch and left instructions, "Do not wait up."

Neither of us was surprised by his disappearing act. Julian's an infamous bolter and we got used to it years ago.

"Where exactly is Harriett?" I scooted closer to Lulu, filling Julian's void.

"On her third date with Martini Man."

"You're kidding. She likes him?" I asked surprised and trying unsuccessfully to picture the man that caught fair Harriet's eye.

"I think so," Lulu started. "She honestly seems smitten. And Annie, you know what they say, don't cast stones from glass, er, no, houses." She snickered, amused by her obvious jab at Bryan.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and I answered, grateful to escape Lulu's opinions and fully expecting to hear Bryan's voice. "Hello?"

"Annie, this is Charles, Charles Reidenhower, from the country club. I'm calling about that ride."

I mouthed frantically to Lulu. "It's Dr. Tits!"

"Hi Charles, how are you?" I said sweetly into my phone, talking above the noisy bar and pushing a nosy Lulu away from the receiver.

"That depends. Will you join me tomorrow for that ride?"

One look at Lulu and I knew her advice. And it's not as if Bryan and I were committed.

"You can pick me up at two o'clock," I told him, embolden by my third cocktail of the night.

"I'll be there at six and wear something nice." He hung up.

And I liked it.

"So," I said turning to an interested Lulu.

"So."

"So, he's picking me up tomorrow night at six o'clock," I told her, unsure why I felt excited despite his impish appearance.

"He might give you a discount," Lulu said with envy.

"A discount on what exactly?" I asked, offended. "My breasts are fine, thank you. Or are you referring to my wrinkle?"

"Your boobs would be lucky to be in the hands of Dr. Reidenhower, and your wrinkle as well," she said. "Let's face it, Annie, we're pushing thirty."