Free Cold Hard Cash: A Story of Erotica by Bebe Wilde Page B

day that I wasn’t the one. I had a really hard time getting over that, too. I wasn’t the one? Then why did we stay together almost seven years? I had wasted most of my twenties on him! I thought we were going to get married. I thought we had a future together. I guess I thought wrong.
    It also didn’t help that my BFF, Becca , had met and married a gorgeous man who lived in San Francisco. And, yes, she moved from our small Georgia town to be with him. She and I had been besties since elementary school and had gone to college together, graduated and then went to work in the same factory as accountants. We saw each other almost every single day. Then one day, she’s like, “I’m outta here,” and she left. Well, she left after a fabulous wedding and too much cake.
    Not long after that my boyfriend broke up with me and I was alone except for my family, of course, and my other friends. But I felt alone most of the time and pretty bad about my situation. Then, out of the blue, Becca called.
    “Hey, bitch,” she said. “What’s up?”
    “I’m still pissed off at you,” I said.
    “What’s it this time?”
    She sounded so casual. I imagined her sitting in her luxurious apartment twirling her dark brown hair while checking her pretty face reflected in her stainless steel refrigerator. Maybe I was a little jealous but mostly I missed her. I missed our lunches and I missed having her around.
    “I’m waiting,” she said and sighed.
    “You’re whooping it up in California and I’m stuck here in peanut land.”
    She laughed. “Oh, yeah, everyone still grows peanuts there, don’t they?”
    “They do,” I said.
    “I’ve not been here that long,” she said. “Besides, I’m lonely too. It’s hard to acclimate to a big city when you’re a small town girl at heart.”
    I rolled my eyes. “I hate the fact that you’re living in one of the most sophisticated cities in the world and still listen to your country music.”
    “Hey, I love my country music,” she said. “Anyway, I have something to cheer you up.”
    “What’s that?”
    “I have a trip planned to Miami.”
    “And how is that supposed to cheer me up?” I asked.
    “Because you’re invited,” she said.
    “I am?” I asked. “Who bailed?”
    “Brent,” she told me. “He has to work. It’s sort of like our first anniversary trip but he’s covered up at work.”
    “So, I’m the backup?”
    “What’s wrong with being the backup if you get to go to Miami?”
    I was still feeling sorry for myself, so I said, “I can’t do it either. I have a lot of work, too, since one of our accountants quit. Oh, wait a minute, that was you and they still haven’t replaced you. Yeah, double work load since you split.”
    “You’re being a baby.”
    “I’m mad, so I have the right,” I said. “And you would not believe the shit they’ve loaded me down with. I don’t get home until after eight every night and then I have to be right back at work by seven. It’s getting old.”
    “So, come to Miami with me.”
    “I can’t.”
    “You haven’t taken a vacation in years,” she said. “I know you have the time built up.”
    “Maybe I plan on using it with someone else.”
    “Fine,” she said. “Be that way. I’ll ask Nicki .”
    “Who’s Nicki ?”
    “My friend,” she said. “She lives down the block. We go to the park and walk together. Her fiancé works with Brent.”
    “You’re such a bitch to play that with me,” I said. “Like now I’m going to have to jump at the chance to go because I feel insecure that I might be losing my best friend to someone else.”
    “Exactly,” she chimed.
    “Fine,” I said. “You win. But you’re paying for the drinks on the plane.”
    “I will,” she said. “And I’ll be happy to.”
    “Say that after you start paying,” I said. “So, am I meeting you in Atlanta and we’ll fly down to Miami from there?”
    “Yes,” she said. “I’m email you the