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Buena Beach is an online soap opera, giving up all the juicy details of some of the hottest guys and gals of Buena Beach, a small town in Southern California.  New episodes are posted on weekdays.

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June 26, 2009

Season 3, Episode 129

Diane

I have a feeling my happy hour this evening with Veronica isn’t going to be so happy.  All week, she’s been moping like I’ve never seen her do before.  I practically had to shake her to get a half-smile this morning.  We haven’t taken any coffee breaks or afternoon chili-fries runs, and she’s got those heavy-duty Hefty bags under her eyes.  Happy hour was my idea, figuring with a bit of alcohol, she’d tell me what it is that has her in such a funk.  But now, I’m starting to worry that it might be something much deeper than I’m ready to handle.  What if it’s death or disability or pubic lice or something?  I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle too much of a load.

But now I have no choice, with Veronica texting me every hour this afternoon telling me how she can’t wait get out of here and commence with her shots of Jager.  I’m more of a wine cooler type of gal, but maybe I’ll take a shot myself.  I’ll have to start with a couple of fizzy/fruity drinks first.  I can’t shoot it up without warming up. 

“You sure my car will be safe on the street?” she asks me at 4:30, the last hour of our work day dragging. 

“Okay, I live in Buena, just like you do.  It’s, like, the safest place in the universe.  Please don’t try to start making excuses for flaking.”

“No, no.  I’m not.”

“You better not,” I say before she heads back to her cubicle.  We decided to go to a place walking distance from my apartment so we wouldn’t have to call in a designated driver, although a lot could happen to two ladies on a drunken 2-block stroll back home.

With that, I turn off my computer telling myself I can (slowly) file paperwork to make the last half hour of the day roll along swiftly.  Once I click a few windows closed, I feel the presence of someone nearby.  Turning around, I see Sandy.

“What’s up, Di?”

Shoot.  I’ve been avoiding Sandy all day because A) I know what she’s going to ask me and, B) I’m a bad liar.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Oh, uh.  Just going out for dinner and drinks with a…friend.  What about you?  You hanging out with Calvin?”

Her face slumps.  “No way.  I’m so over that guy.  I mean, the sex was good, but the last couple of times we’ve been together, all I can think about is you-know-who.”

I resist the temptation to roll my eyes, especially when I see “you-know-who” in the distance, walking behind us heading towards the front of the building.  Probably lied about some meeting he has so he can take off early.  “Really?  I think you and Calvin make a really cute couple.”  Okay, okay.  So, perhaps I’m not such a bad liar at all.

“You do?  I don’t know.  He’s kind of old.  And he smokes.  Although he said he’d try to quit because of me.”

“See, he really likes you.”

“I know, I know.”

“So, maybe you should call him up and ask him if he wants to hang out tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t need to call him up.  He’s kind of, sort of staying with me right now.”

“What?” I say much too loudly for the office.  Then I sigh, realizing what I have to do.  “Okay, Sandy.  We need to talk.  Come to my place tonight after work.  We’re having a girls’ night out.  You need an intervention.”  This was much more my specialty.  Experience gives me empathy for bad relationships, booty calls, hook-ups, and the like.  Sure, Sandy and Veronica aren’t the best of friends, but they’ll just have to deal with each other.  Sandy needs help.  Besides, if get stuck on Sandy’s craziness, I might not have to go into psychiatric therapy mode with Veronica.

“Actually, can I just get a ride with you to your place?  I let Calvin use my car today.”

Deep breath, deep breath.  Ahhhhhhhhh.

I open my eyes and smile.  “Yes Sandy, my dear.  You can come with me.”

An hour later, the three of us relax in our collective buzz as we enjoy a pound of warm tortilla chips and salsa.  And so far, all of the advice and commentary has been focused on an unlikely candidate – me.

“So if you really like this Michael dude, you should give it up already before he starts seeing someone else.”

“Please – that’s the worst thing she could do right now.  Di, you have to play the game.  Keep him hungry, you know.  At least until he says those three words – new diamond earrings.  Or, at least until he wants to take it exclusive.”

“Guys don’t do that.”

“Sandy, what planet are you living on?  Any guy worth giving it up to will do that.  No guys have wanted to go mono with you because they’re already in relationships with other women.”

Time to intervene.  “Guys, guys, guys,” I say, waving my hands dramatically.  Then I slap them down at the table and look at them.  “Chill out, already.  Be nice to each other.  We’re drinking wine, dammit.”

That’s right.  No shots.  Yet.  It was Sandy who suggested we start of with a bottle of what she called a Shiraz-Cabernet blend.  Homegirl doesn’t know much about men, but she’s pretty good on wine. 

“You’re right, you’re right.  I’m sorry, Sandy.  Who am I to judge?  Or give advice.  I mean, I’m falling in love with my sister’s boyfriend, and I’m still in love with my ex-boyfriend, who is apparently seeing my sister.”  She gives a mad smile and downs the rest of her drink.

Wow.  That’s deep, but not too much for me to handle.  Actually, it’s the kind of tidbit that makes me giddy.  “Are you serious?”

Veronica shrugs.  “Yah.  I’m a mess.”

“True, that,” says Sandy, nodding.  “Don’t worry about spending time on me and Calvin and Mario.  I think Veronica, here, deserves all of our attention tonight.”

“Yah,” she says. 

Then something occurs to me.  “So are you talking about your little sister, Jennifer?”

She picks up my glass of wine and takes the last sip.  “Yah.”

“She’s seeing Brandon?”

Veronica shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I think so.  I saw them out together.”

“More important, however,” Sandy chimes in, “is what you said about Jen’s boyfriend.  You said you’re falling in love with him?”

“Mmm-hmm.  I think so.”  Veronica waves her hand high in the air.  “Waitress, we’re gonna need some shots at this table.  Cadillac with lime and salt, please.”

“Cadillac?  Nice.”

“Yah, I’m used to, like, cheap-ass Geo Tracker shots.  Suzuki Samurai.”

Veronica, usually not affected by Sandy’s humor, convulses in laughter.  “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.  Anyway.  Back to your sibling sexual rivalry.  Are you telling us that you’re in love with some high school boy?”

“Ewww.”  I can’t help but say, although I am curious.

“No,” she says emphatically, surely disappointing Sandy, who loves a controversy.  Okay, okay.  I love ‘em myself.

Veronica does her best to compose herself, trying on a quieter voice.  “No, Sandy.  I am not in love with a teenager.  But, my sister, apparently, is into older men.”

“Oh.”  Makes sense.  We see it all the time with our mentees.

“Problem is, she doesn’t know I that I know about her relationship with Chris.”

Sandy’s eyes triple.  I nearly choke on the peanuts in my mouth.  “Chris!?”

The “Oh, shit!” is written all over Veronica’s face.

“What a perv,” Sandy says.

“No he’s not.  He’s just…not thinking.”  Veronica looks around.  “Where’s the waitress with our shots?”

“Here she comes,” I tell her.  Once the shots are dropped off and we down them, happy warmth rushing through my system, I look Veronica in the eyes.  “Vero, you know I love you.  But this is all just crazy.  You have to end things.  Come on – in love with Chris?  You’re just being irrational because you’re not over Brandon.  You need to put aside your pride, go over to the bike shop, and tell the boy you love him.”

“Yah,” Sandy adds.

Veronica doesn’t look convinced.  “Heck no.  That’d be humiliating.  Besides, I’m telling you.  I saw something between them.”

“Brandon’s not a perv.  Not like Chris.”

Veronica almost appears possessed when her neck jerks around to face Sandy.  “I told you already, Chris isn’t a perv.  You’re stupid boyfriend Mario – he’s the perv.”

“No, he’s just an asshole.  Not a perv.”

“Shut up, you two.  This is serious.”  I throw a peanut at both of them.  Maybe I should have sat in the middle.  “Now, Veronica, I know you still have hang-ups about Brandon, but you gotta let it go.  I’m positive what you saw with him and Jennifer was all in your imagination.”

“Really?”

“I’m positive.   I know it.  What we should do is take a cab back up to the beach and go to the bike shop.  And you go inside and tell Brandon that you want him back.”

“I couldn’t!”

“You have to.”

“Waitress?” Sandy calls out.  “Another round.  Make hers a double.”

The cab pulls up to the boardwalk just a couple of minutes before closing time.  I help Veronica out of the car while Sandy pays the fare.  Ever so carefully, Sandy and I walk Veronica up the wooden walkway to the bike shop.  “Watch your step, sweetie.”

“Here, let’s get some lipgloss on you.”

“Does my hair look okay?” Veronica slurs.

“You look fine.  Come on, let’s go.”

The original plan was to send her off into the shop solo while Sandy and I wait on the stoop for her signal that we could leave.  But that last shot changed things a bit.  Now, we’re going to accompany her to the shop, and explain to Brandon what we’re doing there with his inebriated ex-woman. 

When we get to the picture window, however, it looks as if we may have to turn to Plan C.  “What the…?  Who’s that?”

The sobering scene in front of us unfolds slowly, painfully.  Brandon has his lips, his hips, his bare chest pushed up against somebody, who herself is pushed up against one of very few bare spaces along the side wall.  It’s evident to the three of us that we’re seeing the preview of what looks to be a NC-17 feature.

“Come on.  Let’s go, Vero.”

“You and your stupid ideas.”

She’s right.  “I’m so, so sorry.”  I take her hand and try to pull her away, but she resists, then uses her fist to hit the thick window.  Brandon and his company stop, him turning and squinting to get a look at what’s going on out here.  Then, his face changes.  He must realize who we are, that it’s Veronica and her doofy co-workers.  When he begins a quick pace to the front of the store, Veronica turns and runs off, leaving Sandy and I behind.  As soon as we head off after her, she stops and doubles over.

“What’s going on?” asks a breathless Brandon from behind.  He doesn’t wait for our answer, walking fast in Veronica’s direction, increasing his pace when he sees her throwing up all over the walkway.

“Veronica,” he calls out, nearing her.

She gets to her feet, stumbling a bit and wiping her mouth with her forearm before commencing her run, now even faster.  “Leave me alone,” she yells over her shoulder. 

I have a feeling she’s wasn’t just saying that to Brandon.