The First Law of Love Read Free

would ever waste money on expensive cosmetics. I changed into jeans, heeled chocolate-brown boots and a white, short-sleeved sweater, clipped two pairs of gold hoops into each ear, before collecting my purse from the heaps of shit on the kitchen table. I grabbed an umbrella from the rack beside the door and then hurried to the elevator.
    Howie’s was one level below ground; I could hear music pumping even as I descended the familiar rickety steps to the front door. Pushing inside, I was flooded with the familiar scents and sounds; I spied my roommates at the bar, sipping from martini glasses. They had been joined by another friend of ours from school, Robbie Benson, who had been my main competitor for top honors in the past three years. Even now I felt my spine straightening as though about to face off with him in mock debate, though he smiled at the sight of me and waved me right over.
    â€œGordon, where the fuck have you been?” he said, flushed and already into what was probably his fifth beer of the night. But shit, we deserved it; we had scarcely seen the light of day since the autumn of 2010, as our pasty complexions clearly reflected.
    â€œTish, I already ordered you a drink,” Ina said. She slapped at Robbie and said, “You just brushed your arm against my breast and I don’t think it was accidentally.”
    I giggled at their usual bantering, claiming a stool as Amy, the regular bartender, slid an icy gin and tonic my way.
    â€œThank you,” I told her, restraining myself from gulping.
    â€œGod, where’s your cousin when we need him?” Grace asked, bumping her shoulder against mine. “I’m drunk and I’m fucking horny, and I need a muscular backwoods firefighter right now .”
    â€œI’m texting him that you said that,” I told my roommate, giggling more, setting aside my drink to do just that. I reflected, “God, you’d eat him alive.”
    â€œThat’s about what I feel like doing,” Grace said, sighing, smoothing a hand over her sleek, blond-streaked hair.
    â€œYou know, I have a plastic fire helmet from Halloween. It’s right in my closet,” Robbie said, leaning over the bar beside Grace and offering her his best Kennedy-brother smile. He was slickly handsome, entitled and charming as only a boy raised in a household with two successful litigators could be; though he wouldn’t have full access to his trust until age thirty, he had more money to play with than I could probably ever dream.
    â€œJesus, I’m not that drunk,” Grace returned. Robbie was unfazed; he had gamely taken our shit for years now, though he grabbed her drink and licked the rim of the glass. Grace shrieked, slapping at him. He ducked away, closer to me, just as my phone flashed with a return message.
    Tell her I ’ m free after work , Clint had responded, along with a little devil emoticon, and I held up the message to show Grace. She shrieked again; Amy didn’t so much as glance our way, as she was used to us. Grace snatched the phone from my hands and Ina crowded close. Giggling, they began composing a response.
    â€œSo, Gordon, have you talked to your dad today?” Robbie asked, settling on the stool to my right, studiously ignoring Ina and Grace.
    I had already finished my drink and nodded when Amy held up the bottle of Beefeater. I told Robbie, “No, actually I haven’t. Why?”
    â€œThen you haven’t heard about Ron’s offer,” he mused. “I’ve successfully one-upped you. Damn, I feel pretty good about that.”
    I squeezed the lime wedge from my glass over the ice cubes of my second gin and tonic. I cautioned, “Don’t get too comfortable with that feeling.” But then curiosity overtook my attempt to play it cool, and I demanded, “Ron’s offer about what?”
    â€œHe needs a housesitter this summer,” Robbie said. “Well, more like a cabin-sitter. You