Chapter 8: Faye Talk
537 Words
Chapter 8: Faye Talk
Dreamy. Good looking. Rich. Professional. Dresses well. Unbelievably handsome. Without any flaws. Tall. Cheerful. Complimentary. Suggestive.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Dugan Brae and our short meeting behind closed doors. On my drive to Castling College, I decided to call Faye. At a stop light, I pressed her number into my cellphone and reached her on the second ring.
“Did you deliver the blueprints, darling?” She sounded drunk, having enjoyed far too many Long Island iced teas over lunch.
“I did. You should have told me that Dugan Brae was a god.”
She snickered. “I wanted you to find that out for yourself.” Ice clinked in a glass in the background, which told me she was still drinking.
“He’s beautiful and nice. Our conversation flowed well.”
“He’s single, you know.”
“He pretty much told me that.” The light turned green, and I pressed ahead.
“And he’s looking for a Mr. Right in his life. Just like you are.”
“He also told me that.”
“I think the two of you would make the cutest couple.”
I told her that Dugan had given me his business card and wanted to have a drink with me.
“Did you give him your number?”
“I didn’t. He knows how to reach me. Through you, of course. You’ve told him a lot about me.”
She continued to snicker, took a sip of her drink, whatever it was, and added, “If you won’t play the field, I’ll do it for you.”
“Don’t get any ideas, Faye. I’m perfectly fine right now being single.”
She hissed. “No one’s perfectly fine being single. There’s no such thing. Everyone needs a companion.”
I became snarky and said, “This coming from a single lady.”
“Tsk. You know I’m dating Harold.”
“I know. Not that I’ve ever really liked the man. He’s a bit odd and doesn’t seem to take an interest in you as much as he should. To tell you the truth, Faye, he rubs me the wrong way.”
Faye and Harold Reisner met at a fund-raiser at Millstone Art Gallery in May. The two chatted up with style, slept together on the first night they met, and had been “dating” ever since. Harold refused to have labels in any of his relationships, so he didn’t consider the two courting, seeing each other, or being boyfriend and girlfriend.
Faye reminded me often that, “We do things together. That’s how Harold puts it. Things, mind you. That’s what he calls it.”
Faye drunkenly muttered, “Oh, darling. Stop being silly. It’s my duty as your best friend to see that a man plays naked with you.”
I pictured her waving a hand at my face, rolling her eyes. Being overdramatic turned out to be just one of the many talents Faye possessed, with or without me being involved.
“Just be careful what you tell others about me, Faye. Can we agree on that?”
“Perhaps,” she quipped.
“Promise me, Faye.”
She laughed. “I can’t do that. Enough of your babble. You have Dugan’s number. So I suggest you call him tomorrow and invite him out for the drink he wants.”
“I told him I would think about it.”
“Don’t think too long. Before you know it, he’ll find another literature professor to ask out.”
Having heard enough from her, loud and clear, I decided to end our call. Castling College sat on the horizon, and I needed both hands on the wheel to park my Quest.
“I have to go,” I told her.
“So soon?” She sounded deflated.
“We’ll talk later. I have a class to teach.”
“Whatever.” She hung up on me, probably returning to her drunken spell and afternoon with seven liquors.
- Writer
