Ian was locked away in his room. His parents were absent as usual, and as usual he took advantage of the time alone. He had planned a small get-together, but before his friends arrived, he had some work to do. He sat in front of his iMac, and clicked away on the keyboard. Ian was so engrossed in what he was doing, that he barely heard his cell phone ringing until the fourth ring. He reached for it while still focusing his attention on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Dude, where are you?” PG asked.
“I’m at home,” Ian answered in a far-away, distracted tone.
“We’re downstairs, and the doorman has been calling up for the past five minutes. Dude, you sound strange. What the hell are you doing?”
“Uh…I was just on the computer. Tell the doorman to call the house phone again, and I’ll pick up.” Ian could hear PG in the background talking to the doorman, and a few seconds later, the cordless phone rang. “Hello…yes, send them up.” Ian pressed the end button, threw the phone back on the bed, and dashed into his closet. He threw on a Tom Ford, black button-down, and kept on his jeans. He then went into the bathroom, and ran his fingers through his hair for that controlled, tousled look. Before leaving his bedroom, Ian logged off the computer, turned off all his electronics, and shut the door.
He walked into the living room—which was dark now—and switched on the dimmer to the track lighting, creating a romantic effect. He then walked over to the stereo system, and just as he turned on the CD player, his friends were ringing the doorbell.
“There you are. We were beginning to think that you stood us up,” Madison said, kissing Ian on the lips.
He grabbed her tiny waist, and pulled her to him. “Now why would I want to stand up the most beautiful girl in Manhattan?”
Reagan cleared her throat at his comment.
“Sorry, Reagan, didn’t mean to leave you out of that statement. I meant to say the most beautiful girls, plural.” He smiled, then added, “And, you ladies are looking quite yummy this evening.”
“Thanks, sweetie. We were at Barneys the other day, and made a few spendy purchases. You like my new bag?” she asked, showing him her Marc Jacobs.
“Love it. Love it,” he gushed, sounding like a gay fashionista.
PG rolled his eyes at their silly exchange. “So, Ian, what had you so preoccupied that you didn’t hear the phone?” he asked, eagerly changing the subject and walking into the living room.
“Oh, nothing much. I was just on the computer, that’s all. You know what a time warp the internet can be.” He took hold of Madison’s hand, and led her into the living room. “What can I get you guys to drink?”
“The usual for me,” PG said.
“I’m in the mood for a pomegranate martini. Do you have any of that Pomm juice? It’s the bomb! Not only do you get a buzz from the vodka, but at the same time you get a glass full of antioxidants. Did you know that pomegranate juice is supposed to be one of the healthiest juices out there?” Reagan asked.
“Yeah, I heard that. Ian, make that two pomegranate martinis. I might as well get in on the craze,” Madison said.
“But of course, my love.” He kissed Madison on the cheek. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Ian resurfaced, with not only the pomegranate juice, but a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “If anyone’s hungry, I have some munchies,” he said, and set the silver tray on the cocktail table.
Reagan walked over and picked up a Swedish meatball on a decorative toothpick. “Hmm, these are tasty.”
PG walked up to Reagan, and ran his hand up her arm. “Not as tasty as you, I’m sure.”
Reagan rolled her eyes, polished off the meatball, and reached for another.
“So…,” PG looked around the room, “are we here alone?”
“Yep,” Ian said, standing behind the bar, mixing drinks.
“Where’s Magdala?” Madison asked.
“At home.”
“Isn’t she supposed to stay overnight when your parents are away?” Reagan quizzed.
“Yes, she is, but I told her I was spending the night over at a friend’s, and insisted that she go home.”
“Aren’t you the clever one?” Madison said.
Ian took a mock bow. “Yes, that would be me. Now get over here, and pay for this drink.”
Madison walked behind the bar, threw her arms around his neck, and planted a big, wet, juicy kiss on his mouth. “Does that cover my tab?”
He patted her on the butt. “It’ll do for starters.”
As Reagan watched them, a twinge of frienvy washed over her. She loved her friends dearly, but couldn’t help but envy the relationship that they shared. They seemed to be so in love, and couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. She, too, wanted a boy who was a knockout, not skinny, bumpy-faced PG. Suddenly, her mind flashed back to the new guy in the school yard. He was extremely fine. Even through his scruffy appearance, Reagan could see that he was gorgeous. His skin was the color of a penny. It looked as if he had a permanent tan, and even though his curls were unruly, they were shiny and black. He was tall, and didn’t appear to be skinny, but she couldn’t tell for certain since his uniform was covering his body. If only he wasn’t poor, she’d make a move on him. But she wasn’t about to give up PG, with his extravagant gifts, for some no-name scrub, who probably couldn’t even afford to take her to Mickie D’s for a Happy Meal.
“So, PG, you wanna dance?” Reagan asked, peering over at Madison and Ian, who were engaged in a battle of the tongues.
PG nearly wasted his drink, as he put it back on the bar. “Sure,” he said, and rushed over to Reagan. He immediately pulled her close to him, even though the song playing was a fast cut.
Since I haven’t found Mr. Right yet, Mr. Right Now will have to do, Reagan thought, wrapping her arms around PG’s shoulders, and shutting her eyes, pretending that he was the “One.”