graced each platter. Hummus and star fruit and kiwi and strawberries with seeded black breads—see, men didn’t think or know how to do! Dizzying desserts—cheesecake slices, cream-filled petit fours, and small mousse cups with decadent chocolate rims—almost broke her resolve to wait for the group. Chocolate-covered strawberries…hmmm…well, one was lost to the cause, but she’d closed in the hole and giggled as she did so. She couldn’t remember being this happy on a Valentine’s Day evening.
Black plates, again, courtesy her store, made it look like an expensive, high-class restaurant, with the lights low. A fondue pot sat readied and waiting. Spinach dip was already made and in the fridge. She’d light the candles later; for now, the liquor store called.
Yes, true, she’d gone over the limit, finding a bottle of wine for each friend—since they each liked something different. Jacqui was into zinfandels, Tina loved the artists’ merlots, Freddie was a business-clean char donnay, and she liked the heavier cabernet sauvignons—so the best compromise was to buy one of each. But champagne was the order of the day. At first she bought a magnum, then decided to get each of them a bottle. It was excessive, but hey, they were purging the demons of male inattention and ineptitude, and if one of them started crying about an old boyfriend, there needed to be plenty of hooch on the premises.
Quite pleased with herself, Jocelyn lugged her box of booze up the four flights to her door. Student-living over in the Powelton Village area didn’t come with the luxury of elevators, but that was okay. Tonight, she’d turned her small place into an all-female oasis. It was a spa for the lovelorn.
Dabbing the slight perspiration from her brow, she kicked open the door and shoved it closed behind her with her backside. She was so happy, she could have skipped across the floor, were her package not so heavy. And it had made her feel good that the ladies at the liquor store had asked her if she was having a party, and had given her high-fives and Go, girls! Yeah. That’s right, she was having a party.
Jocelyn set down her box of booze with care and stripped off her faux lamb jacket, crossing the room with purpose to hang it up. It was seven P . M .—her girls would be there by eight, the pamper pros would be there by eight-thirty, everything was ready. She even had time for a quick shower.
As she glimpsed her phone and saw the light blinking, she giggled. No doubt her girls were getting anxious, too, and had called to squeal and check on last-minute details. She picked up the phone and scrolled through the missed calls on the digital display, glancing at the coffee table which had four little gifts, each wrapped in pretty, glistening silver paper with large gold bows. She casually munched on the mixed nuts that had been set out, and picked a slim chocolate mint out of a candy bowl as she made her way to the kitchen, juggling bottles of wine with the cordless phone to listen to each of her friends’ messages.
But as she stood in the middle of the floor, she almost couldn’t breathe as the first message rang in her ears. Jacqui was canceling? Jacqui! Miss, I don’t need no man to complete my world?
Fury and hurt made tears come to Jocelyn’s eyes as she replayed her friend’s lame message.
“Joce, girl, listen, I know you’re gonna feel some type of way about this, but Bill called…after months of miscommunication—and he wants to talk, reconcile, go to dinner, and try to figure out where we went wrong…girl, he sent roses to my job. Look, tomorrow, when he leaves, I’ll call you, baby. All right? You know I love you, and give the girls a hug for me, but…Joce, you know you’re my boo, right? Don’t get all mad. Promise me? We’ll do lunch tomorrow. ’Kay?”
Jocelyn stared at the telephone and had to set the wine down very slowly. If her girl didn’t sound like a man making excuses to go on a
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