The Other Side of Someday by T. K. Leigh Read Free Book Online

our case, it was more along the lines of being a Wine Drinking Karaoke Pictionary Playing Club.
    “You know, Marcel,” Darren’s deep voice cut through when the music died down and Marcel returned to the table after taking a dramatic bow, “something makes me think that there is absolutely nothing virgin about you.”
    “The song is ‘ Like a Virgin’,” Marcel replied, winking. “And you’re right, sweetheart. There is nothing virgin about me. How about you?” he flirted, wiggling his eyebrows.
    “Okay. Teams!” Sophia interrupted, anxious to start the game. She passed around a small bowl containing several pieces of folded up paper, a number one or two scratched on each of them. I drew a two, as did Marcel and Cora, leaving Sophia, Darren, and Lacey to form the other team. Taking the lead, Sophia decided to draw first, pulling a notecard out of the box. I watched with amusement as she sauntered up to the whiteboard and furrowed her brows, trying to figure out how to draw whatever was on the card.
    Hours flew by, more wine was consumed, and a large amount of generally indecipherable masterpieces were sketched on the whiteboard as I got to know this unassuming group of people. I told them all about my recent divorce and Will’s infidelity that led to me packing up everything I owned and heading west until I hit the Pacific Ocean.  
    I discovered that Marcel was one hell of an interior designer. He even offered to work his magic on my place, speaking in an excited voice about a multitude of ideas he had for the enormous space I now lived in. With all the right touches, he was certain this job could land him in one of the top design magazines. I seriously considered taking him up on his offer. I had only been here two days, but I was more than aware that my new condo lacked any sense of personality. I wasn’t sure what my style was, but I was certain Marcel would do an amazing job redesigning my place into something that felt more like a home to me.
    Darren, as I suspected, worked in the security field. He had gone into the Marines after high school and now worked in the private security business. Based on the fact he could afford a condo in this building, I assumed business was very good. Lacey was a Harvard graduate who was now a tax attorney, much to my surprise. I had trouble picturing her wearing a suit and going to court.
    “That’s the good thing about being a tax attorney,” she explained once she saw the bewildered expression I had trouble hiding. “We don’t really go to court that much. Plus, I find my clients are much more comfortable with me when they see I’m wearing jeans, as opposed to some stuffy suit.”
    Out of everyone there, Cora had the juiciest story to tell. She was left a large sum of money when her husband of seven years, Steven, was killed in a car accident. Now, she devoted all her time, and his money, to charity work. Apparently, Steven was speeding down Pacific Coast Highway…or as the Angelenos surrounding me lovingly referred to it as “PCH”…in his sports car, his mistress in the passenger seat. The truth was, Cora had just found out about the affair and was getting ready to serve him with divorce papers. While she was saddened to hear of his passing, she was still his wife and inherited his enormous fortune.
    “Bless his heart,” I said, shaking my head.
    Cora looked at me, her brows furrowed. To her, I was sure it sounded like I was sympathizing with her now deceased husband.
    Smiling, I explained, “That’s another southern phrase. It’s a polite way of saying poor, sad fucker.”
    Everyone at the table roared in response, a few repeating “Bless his heart”.
    “I’ll drink to that.” Sophia raised her glass, and we all followed suit.
    “And the kicker? His little slice on the side tried to contest his will on the grounds that Steven had set up a bank account in her name and was paying the mortgage on a house he bought for her in Beverly Hills,” Cora