Three Fates

stupid? Well, it didn’t matter, she assured herself as she rode, on a cloud of triumph, to her floor. It didn’t matter in the least what a woman like Anita thought of her. Because she, Tia Marsh, had won the round.
    She sailed into the apartment, prepared to crow, and found only Cleo, sprawled on the sofa watching MTV.
    “Hey. How’d it go?”
    “It went well. Where is everyone?”
    “They went to call their mother. Irish guys have a real thing for their mothers, don’t they? Then they’re going to pick up some stuff—ice cream. They just took off a couple minutes ago.”
    Cleo glanced at the television screen before switching it off.
    “So, what went down with Anita?” Cleo questioned.
    “She thinks I’m a brainless neurotic who’s grateful for any scrap of attention a real person tosses my way.”
    Cleo rolled off the couch—a fluid grace Tia admired hopelessly. “I don’t. Not that it matters, but I think you’re a smart, classy ass-kicker who just hasn’t tried out her boots yet. Want a drink?”
    The description had Tia gaping so that she didn’t register being invited to drink in her own apartment. “Maybe. I don’t really drink.”
    “I do, and this seems like the time for it. We’ll chug down a glass of wine and you can fill me in.”
    Cleo opened a bottle of Pouilly-Fumé, poured two glasses. And listened. Somewhere during that first glass, Tia realized the only person who listened to her with the same focused interest was Carrie. Maybe, she thought, that’s why they were friends.
    “You sent her to Athens?” Cleo let out a hoot of laughter. “That’s fucking brilliant.”
    “It just seemed . . . I guess it was.”
    “Damn right.” Cleo shot up a hand, so fast and close, Tia’s head jerked back as if to avoid a slap. “High five!”
    “Oh. Well.” With a giggle, Tia slapped palms.
    “You’re going to have to go through all this again with the boys,” Cleo continued. “So since we’ve got this girl moment before they get back, give me the dish on Malachi.”
    “The dish?”
    “Yeah. I know you’re pissed at him, and personally if I were you I’d want to boil his balls for breakfast, but he’s really gorgeous. How are you going to play him?”
    “I’m not. I wouldn’t know how, so I’m not. This is business.”
    “He’s got a good case of the guilts over you. You could use that.” Cleo dipped a finger into her wine, licked it off. “But it’s not just guilt. He’s got the hots for you, too. Guilty hots, that gives you some major power.”
    “He’s not attracted to me that way. It’s just pretense so I’ll help.”
    “You’re wrong. Listen, Tia, there’s one thing I know. Men. I know how they look at a woman, how they move around a woman, and what’s going on in their sex-obsessed brains when they do. That guy wants to slurp you up like soda pop, and since he’s guilty for fucking with you, that makes him edgy, frustrated and stupid. You could have him sitting up and begging like a Labrador, you play your cards right.”
    “I don’t have any cards,” Tia began. “And I don’t want to humiliate him.” Then she thought of how she’d felt when she’d realized he’d lied to her. Used her. She took another sip of her wine. “Well, maybe I do. A little. But I don’t think it’s relevant. Men don’t have the same urges about me as they do for women like you.”
    She stopped, appalled, and set down her glass. She should not drink. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I meant that as a compliment.”
    “Relax. I got it. You got more going on than you think. Brains, goofiness, repression.”
    “None of those sound very sexy.”
    “They’re working just fine on big brother. Then you’ve got that dreamy wood-nymph look going for you.”
    “Wood nymph? Me?”
    “Honey, you ought to look in the mirror more often. You’re really hot.”
    “No, I’m really very comfortable . . .” She trailed off when Cleo collapsed in wild laughter. “Oh. Hot.” Laughing herself now, she peered closely at Cleo’s face. “Are you drunk?”
    “Nope, but I might work on that later.” She leaned back. She didn’t make friends easily, at least not with other women. But there was something about Tia.
    “I always wanted to look like you,” Tia blurted out.
    “Me?”
    “Tall and sultry and exotic. And built.”
    “We all work with what we got. And what you’ve got is making big brother’s glands go loop-de-loop. Take my word. Listen.”