Chaser (Dive Bar 3)

"Delightful. Absolutely," she dutifully repeated.

"You know, next year I'm going in drag too and wearing a bikini," said Vaughan. "Get a long blond wig. Come as Pamela Anderson."

"We'll all look forward to that," I said, keeping my face straight. "Maybe you could consider shaving first? Full body wax?"

Rosie snorted. "You definitely should. Natasha can do it for you."

"I have many male clients." Natasha grabbed another cider. "Be happy to help you."

"Thank you. But not a chance," said Vaughan. "Wax scares me. If Eric can get away with Wednesday Addams with stubble, then you can all just deal with me in my natural glory."

"By the way, Pamela Anderson wore a one-piece on Baywatch. Not a bikini," said Rosie, passing the man a beer.

"Thanks," he said. "Is a one-piece comfortable?"

"Probably more likely to give you a wedgie."

Natasha nodded. "God knows what it would do to the rest of your goods."

"Damn," said Vaughan. "Might have to give it some thought."

"Wear a dress," I suggested, doing a twirl. "Skirts are cool."

"Good idea. I better circulate and find Andre before he tries to climb onto the coffee table and sing 'Hound Dog' again. Later." Vaughan disappeared off into the crowd.

As per usual, the kitchen remained prime real estate with people constantly coming and going. Rosie might be keen on setting me up with a friend, but she stayed close, keeping an eye on things, making sure I behaved. She and Nell too, bless them both for their confidence in me. Nell's bump had been dressed up as the Death Star. Which meant Pat must be the Darth Vader hanging with Joe in the living room.

Nell's reaction upon hearing about me taking a break from sex had been about the same as Rosie's. In fact, she'd almost fallen over, she'd been laughing so hard. I was a little worried she'd go into early labor. Still, the lack of faith was about what I'd expected. Since one article I'd read on the web suggested reclaiming your chastity could be a purifying experience, it gave me plenty of extra incentive to just stay the hell away from the woman. I didn't need that kind of negativity in my new, purer, temporarily celibate life.

I didn't feel any more enlightened--yet. Surely that would come.

Meanwhile, Natasha and I chatted, standing in an out-of-the-way corner. Mostly we talked about the recent change of premises and expansion at her business. The woman had a sharp mind to go along with her beautiful body. I could learn a lot from her. Back when we first opened the Dive Bar a few years ago, I didn't know shit about running a business. Nice to know I could appear halfway intelligent on the subject now. Or I knew when to nod, at least.

Another drink went by and we were standing close, speaking in low voices. Everything looked good, from the way she kept placing her hand on my arm to the warmth in her eyes.

"I don't believe you." A familiar laugh filled the air and my head shot up. Jean. She entered the kitchen with Andre hot on her heels.

"It's true," he said. "I met the king."

"You must have been like two years old."

"Younger. He made a huge impression on me, changed my whole life."

"Oh, obviously." Jean paused briefly when she spotted me. Her bump had been transformed into a colorful goldfish bowl care of the print on her T-shirt. She even had sparkly themed hairclips. One was a fish, another some shiny green weed, and the last one a little plastic castle. "Eric. Hi."

"E." Andre gave me a slap on the arm. "Looking good. Very pretty."

I smiled. "Those are some serious big-ass sunglasses, man."

"The king doesn't mess around when it comes to eyewear." He held out his hand to Natasha. "Hello, I don't believe we've met. I'm Andre."

"Natasha." She gave it a firm shake. "Nice to meet you."

"Natasha is a friend of Rosie's," I supplied. "And Natasha, this is our neighbor, Jean. We all live in the Bird Building above the bar."

Jean murmured hello.

"Well now, don't you look nice," I said. "Very fishy. But like, in the right way. Not slimy fishy. Or suspiciously fish. Glamorous fishy."

Her smile widened. "Thanks. I dig your hair."

I turned my head so my braids swung about. "Getting a lot of compliments about the 'do. Think I'll have to wear it like this more often."

"Anyway ... I was just going to grab myself a juice."

"I can get that for you."

"No, I don't want to interrupt," she said, the smile slipping from her face. "You and Natasha were talking."

"It's fine." Getting drinks was my thing, after all.

With an army of red Solo cups waiting on the counter and the fridge fully stocked, I handed her a drink in no time. Andre and Natasha started chatting. Talking about town, their favorite Frida Kahlo paintings, shit like that. The man was being his usual super-smooth and friendly self. He pretty much had the market cornered on nice guy vibes. His boyfriend-material ranking had to be pushing eleven. It normally would have bothered me, but the strain in Jean's smile worried me more.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. Couldn't be better." She took a sip of her drink. "How have you been?"

"Busy, you know."

"Right."

"Yeah, really busy. Work and stuff."

"Okay. I'd wondered if you'd been away or something," she said. "I hadn't seen you around..."

"What, you think I've been hiding from you or something?" I laughed a little too loudly. Shit. "Anyway, how are you? You've been good?" Dammit. I'd already asked that.

"Sure. Very good."

I nodded.

"So, aren't you going to tell me I look like I swallowed Saturn or something?"

"Certainly not," I protested. "The Atlantic maybe, but not Saturn. It wouldn't fit the fish theme you've got going on."

"He better not say anything," said Andre, rejoining the conversation. "You look absolutely wonderful. Glowing and then some."

My friend needed to go away. But the look Jean gave him in response to his compliment was more sibling style than anything. Not romantic. Or at least, I'm pretty sure it wasn't. It better not be. For heaven's sake, the woman had enough on her plate without Andre trying to suck up and get into her pants. Because of course my concern was solely about her.

"Of course she looks wonderful," I muttered. "I wasn't going to say anything like that."

"When are you due?" asked Natasha, bypassing the weirdness.

"Another month." Jean sighed. "I can't wait."

"Make sure you put your feet up and get lots of sleep while you can. My sister, Isla, had her first almost six months ago," said Natasha. "I don't think she's had a minute's rest since."

Jean's eyes brightened. "Congratulations on becoming an auntie."

"Thanks." Natasha slipped a cell out of her pocket and pulled up a picture of a cute little kid with jelly or something smeared over his face. "His name is Henry."

"How sweet."

"Only a month to go. Wow," she said, her gaze taking in Jean and Andre. The cell disappeared back into her pocket. "You both must be so excited."

Andre's mouth opened, but Jean got there first. "No. We're not together. I'm going to be a single parent."

"You're doing it alone?" Natasha's eyes widened. "I hope you have lots of help."

"I'll be fine."

"Fine? Forget that. You'll be great." I grabbed a ghost-shaped cookie off a plate on the counter and took a bite.

"I guess so." Natasha did not look convinced. "But Isla has her wife, who is very supportive, and they're still struggling. Henry has trouble settling at night and some days it seems like he cries nonstop. There's nothing wrong with him, he's a perfectly normal baby. They were just totally unprepared for the amount of work involved. And the lack of sleep."

I gulped down some beer, watching Jean out of the corner of my eye.

"Honestly, I don't know how they stay sane," she continued. "Isla said she went three days without a shower, just because she couldn't find the time and energy. It kind of restores

my faith in humanity that so many people get through it, raise emotionally and physically healthy children, and actually go back for more."

"Oh, I agree. It's big, having a baby, becoming a parent." Jean stroked her belly. "Huge, really. But I'm looking forward to it."

"You'll be fine," I said.

"You're braver than me." Andre pretended to shiver. "My cousin got ripped apart down there having her two. For some reason she felt the need to tell me about it in gory detail."

Jesus. "Real sensitive, man. Also, you don't have a vagina so I think you're pretty safe."

His gaze darted to Jean, remorse filling his eyes. "Shit. Sorry."

"No problem." Jean shrugged. "Everyone has stories. I've heard lots of them."

"My sister said once you've got your baby in your arms, you don't even remember all that," said Natasha. "But still, go for the epidural. She said it made all the difference."

Jean took a sip of juice, apparently unperturbed. "Oh, I'm planning a natural birth. Drug-free."

"Seriously?"

"I've done a lot of research and I think it's the best option for me and my baby."

The whites of Natasha's eyes were like twin moons. "You are brave. I'd be yelling for painkillers as soon as the first contraction hit. Actually forget that, I'd book a nice neat cesarean."

A trace of a frown creased Jean's brow. "I think recovering from surgery and dealing with a newborn would be extraordinarily difficult."

"My mom would help," said Natasha.

"Yeah, but that's precious bonding time you're giving up with your baby."