Chapter 2

I spotted them in the center of the restaurant draped around a large round table anchored by spinach artichoke dip and two bottles of red wine.

I made my way over to the table hoping no one would ask me how I was doing and then ask me again when they knew I wasn’t being truthful with my “I’m good” response.

I pulled out the chair between Alex and Erin, giving everyone a big, “Hey!” as I plopped into my seat.

Erin leaned over and gave me a big squeezie hug. “Glad you made it.”

I squeezed back, “Me too.”

“So, what’d I miss?” I asked.

As Alex poured me a glass of wine she said, “Not much, Zoe is thinking about getting a tattoo, Evie is thinking about getting laser treatments for her whole body, Mary Beth thinks she might be experiencing sexual harassment in the work place, Erin is having trouble with her assistant, and I’m ready to buy a new house.”

I took a sip of wine. “Wow. All that over the first round? What will we talk about over the second?”

Mary Beth scooped some dip onto a wedge of pita bread. “Never fear, my dear. We’re just getting started. We waited for the keeper of The Diary before getting into anything juicy.”

Zoe passed me a pita wedge. “Did you bring The Diary?” she asked.

I retrieved my purse from where it hung on the back of my chair and slipped The Diary out, holding it up to confirm I had not forgotten the key piece of Book Club.

When we started Book Club our real motivation was making sure that life didn’t get in the way of our friendships, that no matter what we would share our ups and downs with each other and along the way we’d try to fit in a few good books. We quickly realized that we needed some way to keep track of the books we read, what we thought about them, and, more importantly, what was going on in our lives when we read them, enter The Diary. The Diary is just a pink, leather bound journal, but it’s an essential piece of Book Club, recording who’s pregnant, who’s thinking about marriage counseling, who is quitting marriage counseling, or who finally paid off their student loans. Oh, and we write what we thought about the book, too.

I cracked open the worn journal to the first blank page I could find, soon we were going to need a new one. “Alright, should we get the book out of the way?” I asked.
Everyone agreed we should cover the book then get to the good stuff. Erin pulled her copy of Sons and Lovers from her bag. Eve said, “Erin, you’re so good! I totally meant to bring my book, but forgot it. Probably couldn’t have found it anyway because one of my kids is a klepto and I can’t find anything I’m looking for these days.”

“Which one is the thief?” I asked.

Eve shrugged her shoulders, “No idea, but my money’s on the girl. I think she gets a kick out of watching me walk around the house, mumbling to myself about where I might have left something.”

I laughed. “Meanwhile, she’s got your stuff jammed under her bed.”

Eve said, ‘Exactly. I think she’s out to get me.”

“She’s only eight!” Alex said.

“Yeah, but she’s a devious eight and girls are different than boys. Sneakier.”

“Yeah, boys are too dumb or too lazy to purposely drive a parent crazy.” Zoe agreed. “They just do it by accident.”

Mary Beth tapped the table with her knife, “Hey! Save it for The Diary!”

I took another sip of wine then wrote in my nearly illegible hand writing”


Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence

May 25, 2008

I looked around the table. “Alright, who want’s to go first?” Eve? What did you think of the book?”

I dutifully recorded everyone’s thoughts about Sons & Lovers:

Eve thought it was good, but tedious.

Zoe thought it was painful, but she finished it!

Mary Beth read three pages and gave up.

Erin thought it was a beautiful love story.

Alex couldn’t make it through the old fashioned dialogue.

And last, but not least I thought it was good, weird, and kind of sexy.

“Now, let’s get to the more interesting stuff. And I think we must begin with Mary Beth’s possible, maybe, she thinks, sexual harassment. What the hay is that about?” I asked.

As Mary Beth opened her mouth to explain, our hot waiter, and yes he was very hot, came to take our dinner order.

As he wrote down Zoe’s Eggplant Parmesan, Alex stage whispered to me, “Meow. I’d like to see his eggplant.”

“Ha!” I snorted. I took a closer look at the waiter. He was tall, young, muscular, with thick, dark hair. I decided it was his smile flanked by the deepest dimples I’d ever seen that was melting the butter right off our table.

When he finally left the table I said, “Not bad, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

Erin said, “You mean beautiful face, beautiful body? Yeah, I’m into that kind of thing.”

“I’m more into flabby, saggy bodies and troll like faces. Makes me feel more at home.” I said.

Each of my shoulders received a not so light punch from Erin and Alex. As the whole table admonished me with, “Shut-up!” and “Whatever!”

I waved them off, “Okay, okay! Now, let’s get back to the good stuff. Mary Beth?”

Mary Beth moved her bread plate to the side and placed her hands flat on the table. “Here’s the deal. I’m not sure, but I think my boss is coming on to me.”

I shook my head in confusion. “What do you mean you’re not sure? Have you seen his penis? Has he touched your boob? Has he asked to touch your boob? Has he given you a photo copy of his din dong?”

“Can you do that?” Erin asked.

“Do what?”

“Photo copy a ding dong?”

I shrugged. “I assume all things, including ding dongs can be photo copied.”

“I doubt a vagina could be photo copied. It’d just be a dark blur, right?” Zoe asked.

Alex brought us back on point. “Enough with the ding-dong. Mary Beth, explain.”

“I don’t know! Craig, my boss, just does things. Like, I’ll be standing in the hall talking with someone and he’ll press himself against me as he passes by as if he’s having to squeeze through a narrow crevasse. He compliments me all the time….”

“That sounds horrible.” Eve said.

“Wait, what kind of compliments?” Erin asked.

“Stuff like, I fill out my blouse nicely, or he can tell I work out. Once he told me the guys had voted me most likely to rock a bikini. Things like that.”

“I see. Pretty sure next stop on this harassment train is showing you his ding-dong.” I said.

Mary Beth sighed. “He makes me so uncomfortable. Last night he asked me to come to his house and work on a project. He said his wife was out of town so we wouldn’t be bothered.”

“What’d you say?” Alex asked.

“I told him I thought it was inappropriate and I wasn’t comfortable with that plan.”

“How’d he take it?” Eve asked.

“He seemed fine. He said he understood and that was it.”

We all took a moment to consider Mary Beth’s situation as the waiter brought out our salads.

“Mary Beth, I hate to say it, but I think this is far from over. He doesn’t sound like the kind of guy who takes no for an answer.” I said.

“Well, now that he knows how you feel maybe he’ll back off because he doesn’t want to get in trouble.” Zoë advised.

“I hope so. I love this job. He and I share the best clients in the firm. I’d hate to lose that.”

Eve scowled. “Tell him if he rubs his dick up against you, you’ll break it off and shove it up his ass till it tickles his throat.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, what Eve said.”

“Enough about me. Just put down ‘Mary Beth sexual harassment suit pending’ in The Diary!”

I wrote it down and looked up expectantly, “Who’s next? Alex?”

“I’m thinking about looking for ‘the dream home’, but I’ve got to talk Kevin into it. You know how he is…whatever he has is good enough. Men!”

“So, I’ll just put ‘Alex is looking for her Dream House and Kevin is destined to give in’?” I suggested.

Alex smiled, “That’s about right.”

Erin said, “But, the house you have now is great.”

“Thanks, I like it too, but it’s not my DREAM HOUSE, you know?”

“I have a great real estate agent, if you’re interested,” offered Eve.

I turned to Erin, “Your turn. What’s with your assistant?”

Erin grimaced. “I think she’s having sex with her boyfriend in my office whenever I’m not around.”

“Say what?!” I asked

Eve doubled over laughing. “What gave them away?”

“Well, whoever she’s screwing is a lousy shot because he keeps missing the trash can by a foot and the condom winds up stuck to the side of my desk.”

“That is disgusting!” Alex said.

“Are you sure it’s your assistant?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah, it could be the janitor and his girlfriend. Are you sure it’s condoms you’re finding? Perhaps, they’re water balloons?” I offered helpfully.

Erin shook her head. “Nope, condoms. Ribbed for her pleasure.”

“Have you said anything to her?” asked Mary Beth.

“Not yet, but I’m thinking of installing a nanny cam. That way, I can gather hard core evidence and hard core porn. It’s a win, win!”

“You wouldn’t!” said Alex.

“Probably not. I can’t even figure out how to ask her about it.”

“Just say, ‘excuse me, but are you fucking your boyfriend in my office when I’m out to lunch?’” said Zoë.

“Or start a Lost and Found box to keep her ‘belongings’ in and then suggest she rummage through Lost & Found for some items that might belong to her!” I added.

“Mac, I think you should discuss it with her. You have a way with people. How about it?” Erin asked.

“Just tell me when and where. Let’s see, for you I’ll put down ‘Erin is jealous of her assistant who is having hot sex on Erin’s desk’. How’s that?”

Erin laughed, “Perfect!”

I looked at Zoe, “Zoe? A tattoo? What, where, and why?”

“Not sure, not sure, and not sure. I just wanna shake things up. You know, I’m thirty-six, with two kids, and nothing new on the horizon. I’m tired of feeling like there’s nothing new for me. And it might spark some romance with Derrick. After ten years of marriage some of the shine is off the rose.”

“Roses shine?” I asked.

Zoë sighed, “You know what I mean. I need….something…”

Erin raised her glass to Zoe, “Go for it! I say, do whatever you need to do to feel young and alive! Except, having sex on my desk. If I catch you and Derrick doing that, I’ll go blind.”

We laughed because it was all so funny and because it was all so true. Over the last couple of years we’d each begun to ask heart breaking questions like, “What’s next for me? Is this it? Is this what I wanted? Is it too late to want something different? Am I still breathing? Does anybody really see me?”

I wrote in The Diary “Zoë considering tattoo of unknown depiction on unknown body part in order to feel alive. Go Zoë!

The food came just as I turned to Eve for her Diary comments so I waited for our Adonis-like waiter to deposit dinner plates before diving into Eve’s laser treatments.

Once we were all served I turned to Eve and asked, “Alright, you’re getting laser treatments all over? Even your lady business?”

Around a bite of ravioli, Eve said, “I think so. I’m gonna start with my legs and see how it goes.”

Mary Beth made a face like she smelled a stink. “I’ve had friends who’ve done it and they say it’s very painful. Plus you still have to shave, just not so often.”

“Well, I’m like Sasquatch so if I didn’t have to shave everyday it would be worth it. And I’ve had three kids so how painful can it be compared to that?”

“Eve, can’t you just shave?” I asked.

“Ugh! I’m sick of shaving. Anyway, that’s not the most outrageous thing I’m about to do.”

My ears perked up immediately. “Pray tell, of what do you speak?”

Eve looked around the table at each expectant face, letting suspense build until she said, “I’m getting my nipples trimmed.”

“What the….!” Alex exclaimed.

“You’re doing what?” Mary Beth asked.

“You mean the hair on your nipples?” I hoped.

Erin and Zoë took big gulps of wine while we tried to process this interesting bit of news.

“Explain yourself woman, before I write in The Diary that you have super hairy nipples.” I said.

Eve swallowed another bite of ravioli then said, “Here’s the deal. The other night Blake came in while I was getting ready for bed and I caught him looking at my boobs. Then he said, ‘You know what I’m in the mood for? Pepperoni pizza.’ Then he took off for the kitchen to find the left over pizza!”

Alex asked, “So?”

Eve sighed, “Don’t’ you get it? My boobs, or more specifically, my nipples reminded him of pepperoni pizza! With each pregnancy my nipples have grown to the size of dinner plates and I’ve had it! Next week I’m getting them trimmed up, perked up, and prettied up.”

“I’m sure Blake things you’re beautiful just the way you are…” Mary Beth said.

“Look, these days he’s more interested in the refrigerator than my body. It’s like Zoë said, after ten years of marriage you need a little tweak to get the magic back. I just want to do everything I can to keep him interested.”

“Let me know how it goes, I might do it too. But, I want my boobs perked up, period.” Alex said.

“I’m writing ‘possible laser treatment and reduction of pepperoni nipples’. That about cover it?” I asked.

“That covers it. But, what about you, Mac? What’s your news?” Eve asked.

“No news.” That was my first lie.

“You have to have something…..how are things with you and Josh?” Alex asked.

“Things are fine.” That was another lie and maybe my biggest yet. How could I tell them I thought my husband was cheating on me? It’s no secret Josh and I aren’t the happily married couple we pretend to be, but admitting my latest suspicion seemed impossible.

Saying those words out loud to these women would make it real and their rush to support me would break my almost mortally wounded heart. There would be too many questions if I told them I thought Josh was having an affair. What makes me think he’s cheating? What evidence have I found? What am I going to do? I wasn’t ready to answer those questions.

And they would rush to assure me that Josh would never cheat and even if he did I’d be fine, but I wasn’t so sure of either. So, no matter how much I wanted to share this pain with them, I couldn’t do it and would keep lying until they stopped asking.

Zoë, always sensitive to my mood, asked, “You sure everything’s alright?”

“Of course! I’d tell you guys if anything was wrong!”

They eyed me with a look that said they knew I was full of crap, but would let it go, for now.

“I know! I’m thinking about starting Weight Watchers.” I quickly wrote that down, hoping they would move on to a discussion of diet strategies.

Thankfully they took the bait and started debating the virtues of Weight Watchers versus Jenny Craig.

We wrapped up the night sharing two giant, pieces of chocolate cake and I was sad to see the evening come to an end. The moms at the table were stealing glances at their watches wondering if their babies were tucked in and happy while I was wondering if my husband was tucked into our bed or someone else’s.

As we got up to make our way out of the restaurant, Mary Beth pulled out her Blackberry to check a message.

I wad holding the door open for everyone to file through when I heard Mary Beth gasp, “Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Mary Beth’s hands were shaking and her face had gone sheet white. “I just got a text from Craig. He fired me. In a text.”

For a second, no one said anything. Finally, Alex reached for Mary Beth’s Blackberry, “Give it to me,” She said.

Mary Beth handed it over the little black square to Alex who read aloud the offending text, “We are no longer able to continue your employment. Your termination is effective immediately. Will send your things to your home address.”

“That’s it?” I asked. Alex handed me the Blackberry and I read the message for myself. “First of all, who fires someone via text? Second of all, he has three typos in this thing. What a dumb mother fucker. Too bad for him all your friends are lawyers.”

We all moved to the valet stand so we wouldn’t block the door as we tried to console Mary Beth.

Alex, as always, was the voice of reason, “Look, don’t do anything rash. Do not respond to this text tonight. Go home and make a list of every instance you can recall where Craig was inappropriate with you or make some shitty comment.”

As Alex laid out the plan, tears began to flow slowly down Mary Beth’s cheeks. I felt the heat of tears prickle behind my own eyes, but knew I needed to be tough for Mary Beth. She didn’t need her friends to cry with her, she needed our strength and a plan of action.

“I want you to call me in the morning and we’ll work on a strategy for contacting the company and your statement. Okay?” Alex asked.

Mary Beth nodded. “I can’t believe this. I…I…don’t have a job. I started this day with a job and now I’m unemployed. I should have just gone to his house…..”

“Stop that! You did the right thing. And he’s gonna pay for being the asshole he is.” Eve assured her.

The valet pulled up in Mary Beth’s car. She shuffled toward it as we called to her to stay and keep talking. Mary Beth turned to face us and said, “You don’t understand. I don’t have a husband to fall back on. I’m on my own and I need a job. Do you know how hard it is to get a job in this city like the one I have…had? I have to start all over again….”

“No, we’ll get you your job back,” Zoë promised.

“Mary Beth, don’t leave. Come over to my house and we’ll talk it through.” Erin pleaded.

“No, I want to be alone. I want to go home. I’ll call you guys tomorrow. I promise.”

Before any of us could say more, Mary Beth ducked into her car and drove away.

We stood for awhile cursing Craig and worrying about Mary Beth, but when we knew there was nothing left to say, no more curses to issue, we let the valet bring our cars around so we could make our way home.

I drove through the dark streets of my neighborhood torn between concern for Mary Beth and worry about my own marriage. These days I never knew if Josh would be home or “working late”. For now, I’d take Josh at his word because I wasn’t prepared to investigate my own husband. Soon, I’d tell the girls so they could tell me how crazy I am and convince me I was imagining things. Little did I know they would do no such thing.

Chapter 1

For the past three years we’ve been meeting every two weeks for our own version of book club. A book is always chosen and dutifully discussed for three minutes then hastily abandoned for the more interesting topics of sex, love, and laughter.

We’ve been together so long we can hardly remember when we met or who knew who first, though occasionally we linger over dessert wine re-telling tales of friendship spills and thrills.

There are six of us, six very different, but equally determined to be heard, women. Our round table discussions can get a little saucy and more than a little loud. Whether or not we break the sound barrier all depends on how many wine bottles litter the table.

We’re all lawyers except for Mary Beth who was once married to a lawyer, but thought better of it and now is single, without children, and gainfully employed as a public relations pro to local personalities. She tends to have the best work stories because celbrities, even local ones, are crazy.

Alex is married with three kids and may be the best lawyer I’ve ever known. She’s tenacious and not just at her job, but in life. She figures out what she wants and she sets out to get it with unshakeable determination. I’ve never seen her fail at anything, yet I don’t hate her for it, probably because she’s as determined in her friendships as in executing a contract or finding the best deal on strawberries.

Erin is our resident redhead and all American tomboy. As an immigration attorney she likes to say she’s doing God’s Work because God only knows what she has to deal with as a citizenship broker. Erin’s married, but kept her own name which makes it more difficult to address their invitations, but she swears by separate last names, separate bank accounts, and separate bathrooms. She’s taken a pass on children, at least for now.

Evie was once a lawyer, but gave it up for her husband and their three kids. She was born a free-spirited hippie chick, but grew up and became a member of the country club. Still, you can take the tie-dyed shirt off the hippie’s back, but you can’t take the tie-dyed out of the hippie. Or something like that. No matter the setting, Evie won’t hesitate to speak her mind or drop an F-bomb.

Zoe is a banking lawyer. Meaning, she’s a lawyer who works for a bank. I don’t really know much more about it because numbers frighten me. Zoe is our other free-spirit, complete with back tat and toe ring which makes her an interesting fit with the banking crowd. She too is a married gal with a couple of kids, but she is in a perpetual state of reinvention.

And then there’s me, Mackenzie, or Mac if you will. If forced to describe myself I must confess that I’m the least exciting of my group. A chubby, thirty-something lawyer, with a husband, but no kids. I wish I could tell you that I fight crime or win millions for the chronically wronged, but I can’t. I represent companies, big old companies, that used to make asbestos-containing products. That’s it. Not much more to say about me.

Tonight’s book club is at The Porch, a lovely little joint featuring upscale home-cooking and lots of pretty cocktails. I was running late, as usual, because I got stuck talking to the biggest soul-suck in our office, Roger, just as I was shutting down my computer. Roger was one of those bosses that always waited to discuss an impossibly large project till you were getting ready to head home. And he can’t seem to take the hint when you zip up your briefcase, plop your purse on your desk, and pull out your car keys with a look of shut-the-hell up on your face. Once, he almost followed me into the women’s bathroom when I pleaded a failing bladder in an effort to get away.

My cell rang just as I pulled into the valet line in front of the restaurant. Caller id told me an impatient Alex was on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Mac, where are you?” Alex asked.

“I’m here. Just parking. Order me something red.”

“Alright. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about book club. Again.”

“WTF! I’ve only forgotten once and I was having a really bad day.”

“A heavy period is no excuse for missing book club.”

“Was that my excuse?” I seriously couldn’t recall what reason I’d given the one time I failed to show up.

“Yep. Now get in here. Our waiter is smoking hot.” Alex hung up and I slipped my phone into my purse just as a smoking hot valet guy opened my car door for me.

I struggled to get out of my seat without flashing any fat at Mr. Valet, not that he was looking at me anyway. Being a pudge makes me invisible to the opposite sex. And what better way for me to spend my evening as an invisible woman than with beautiful women who are anything but invisible? The only thing not to love about book club is feeling like the lone toadstool in a field of lovely flowers. Thin, lovely flowers.

As I walked into The Porch that night I had no way of knowing that one of us would make an interesting confession, one of us would leave crying, and one of us would keep a secret. Of course, just because we’re in our thirties with some marriages and some kids doesn’t mean we’re not daring, salacious, and still full of surprises. Just because we’re nearing the mid-point, or as I like to call it Life’s Equator, doesn’t mean we’re already dead. Just the opposite.