The Wild Side. Isabel Sharpe

shape so that she scarcely recognized herself… It had been a horror.

      So she and Penny had invaded the makeup aisle at Walgreen’s and spent an extended evening with Cosmo as their guide, trying to see if their fresh-faced farm-girl features could be coaxed into exotic sensual splendor.

      Okay, well, they got close enough.

      Then there was the manicure, and the pedicure, and the rather painful waxing, which did leave her legs fabulously smooth after the welts died down.

      Melissa smiled at herself in the dark-framed mirror on her dresser. She did look different. Older. More sophisticated. Better. Up until now, it had been easy—a fun week. But now it was going to get harder, and scary. Now she was going to go over to Rose’s apartment and ask how to meet a man she could have a wild, meaningless fling with. It was like the research was all finished, and now she had to sit down and write the term paper.

      She curled her lip. So far she’d made it to the side of her bed closest to the door. The next step would be walking out into her living room. From there, it was a matter of, say, fifteen feet to the front door. Six more to cross the hall. Then the knocking, the waiting, the small talk, and finally, Getting to the Point.

      She shook her head in a quick shudder of denial. Insurmountable. She couldn’t do it. Or maybe she could. But maybe tomorrow would be a better—

      The phone rang next to her bed. She reached over her ivory bedspread and picked it up eagerly, hoping it was Penny, who would convince her tomorrow was a much better option. Or maybe one of her college roommates, who would talk to her until it was too close to dinner to go over there, or maybe—

      “Melissa, it’s Bill.”

      “Bill.” Her way-over-him heart gave a traitorous flip. Was this a sign? A sign she was barking up the wrong tree entirely? “How…how are you doing?”

      “I’m fine. Fine.” He was distracted, uneasy. He had something to say. She knew without seeing him that he was puckering his mouth and drumming his fingers impossibly fast on whatever surface he was near. “How are you doing?”

      “I’m great…. What’s up?” Did he miss her? Did he want to see her? Did he want to get back together?

      Forget it. Ha! She’d just tell him—

      “I wanted to tell you…” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Maybe this was a stupid mistake. But I thought you should know.”

      “Yes?” That I’ve been dreaming of you every night, Melissa. That I miss you more than I can say.

      Oh? Sorry, Bill. Life without you is just peachy. In fact, I’m about to—

      “I met someone. I’m seeing someone. I…wanted you to hear it from me.”

      Melissa clenched her teeth in a huge happy smile and pasted her eyes open extra super-by-gosh wide. “Oh! Bill that’s fabulous! I’m really happy for you. And thanks for telling me. That was so sweet of you!”

      “Oh, man, I’m so glad you’re not upset. She’s pretty terrific.” He gave a gooey chuckle. “Hey! Maybe you could come over sometime and meet—”

      “Bill, thanks so much for calling. Great to hear from you. Gotta go. Bye.”

      Melissa hung up the phone, clenched her fists at her sides and punished her cool gray carpet with angry strides to the mirror, chest heaving from rage and hurt and humiliation and whatever else she could possibly be feeling. What bizarre, illogical trait made her want Bill to still want her just so she could have the luxury of disappointing him? So she could sit on her satin pillow, bejeweled and perfumed, smile indulgently and wave her silk hanky to the guards to drag him off to her castle’s Rejected Males Room?

      The minute he’d made it clear he didn’t want her, her castle had turned into a scummy pond, and she was a princess reverting to frogdom, crouching on a cold slimy lily pad, lonely and hurt.

      Well, to hell with him.

      She turned abruptly and stalked through her apartment, swiped her keys off the hall table, banged through her door, took four furious steps down the corridor and knocked on Rose’s door before she could weaken even slightly and change her mind.

      “Who…who is it?”

      Melissa frowned. Had she knocked that hard? Rose sounded like she expected the entire Boston Police Force brandishing large weapons.

      “It’s Melissa. Can I talk to you?”

      The door opened and Rose appeared, looking wan and uneasy and about five years younger than she had that night with the Saudi prince last week. She wore bright blue capris, and an oversize white shirt that probably used to belong to one of her male admirers.

      “Sure. Sure.” Rose smiled and beckoned. “Come on in. You look different. Did you change your hair? I like it. It looks kind of like mine.”

      Melissa nodded and touched her short hair self-consciously, unwilling to admit she’d had Rose’s sleek, natural style in mind. Not that you saw much of Rose’s hair since it was usually hiding under wigs.

      “Would you like a cup of tea? I’m just making some.”

      Melissa nodded again and wandered among Rose’s whimsical, colorful assortment of rugs, chairs and knickknacks, wondering what the etiquette was for asking someone she barely knew to recommend a sex partner. She picked up a hand mirror with the beautiful, delicate face of a girl painted on the back, and replaced it carefully on the cluttered coffee table.

      “Lovely day.” Rose smiled graciously. “I’m going to a Red Sox game tonight. Looks like we’ll have good weather.”

      Come on, Melissa, spare her the small talk and get to the point. Melissa stopped opposite a bizarre giraffelike statue made out of tin cans wired together. “Oh, you have a Randstetler sculpture!”

      “Is that what it is?” Rose rescued the shrieking kettle from its distress and poured boiling water into two cups. “A friend gave it to me. I can’t say I love it.”

      “Your friend is very smart. Randstetler is starting to make a name for himself. His works will probably skyrocket in price. Strange guy, really into animal rights and kind of preachy about it. He works it into every subject.” Melissa gently touched the giraffe’s aluminum nose. Okay. Enough prattle. Out with it. “Listen, Rose. I wonder if I could ask you sort of a strange favor.”

      Rose laughed, a nice warm sound not at all like the silly giggle she’d been making in the hall with His Majesty. “I specialize in granting strange favors. And I was thinking of asking you for one, too. You first, though. Have a seat and ask away.”

      Melissa flopped into an overstuffed burgundy chair with a white lace antimacassar spread across the top. “I broke up with a guy a few months ago… Well, he broke up with me.”

      “Ugh.” Rose wrinkled her nose, handed Melissa her tea and sank into a chair opposite. “I’m sorry.”

      “I’m fine. I’m fine now.” Melissa set her mug carefully on a flowery coaster. “In fact, I’m ready to date again.”

      “Good for you.”

      “But I was wondering…well, the truth is, Bill and I…we didn’t have the greatest sex life.”

      “Double ugh.” Rose grimaced. “You’re well rid of him.”

      “But before I start looking seriously… Since you seem to know so many guys, I was wondering…if you knew anyone I could have a fling with.” Melissa covered her face with her hands. “Oh, man. If you knew how hard that was to come out with…”

      “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rose laughed again. “I think it’s a great idea. Everyone should have a wild romance or two.”

      Melissa dropped her hands. “Is that what you’re doing?”

      “Sort of.” The friendly warmth in Rose’s