Jaded Read Online Free Page A

sweet. As little girls they would joke about being the perfect Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Now they were more like Reese’s Pieces—separate, each cloaked in a hard shell that neither could seem to crack.
    “I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes,” Syeesha said.
    “I can tell. You look like a drunken noodle when you should be eating one.” Trina released the tightly cinched belt of her Burberry coat, casually threw the coat on the cushioned seat next to Syeesha, and then eased into a chair across from her. “What’re you drinking?”
    “A Bellini,” she replied. “I think it was test-marketed on eight-year-olds.”
    An untrained eye would have missed the subtle ascension of Trina’s right eyebrow followed by the slight downturn of her mouth. Syeesha was trained in all things Trina, however. Luckily, she began to feel a buzz from the shooters and she leaned into the lightness, secretly wishing she could throw a grateful wink to Chuck for hooking her up.
    “So,” Trina said. “What’s going on? Surprised you called me for lunch today when I haven’t heard from you since when? New Years?”
    “Let’s place our lunch orders first.” Syeesha flagged down a waitress.
    The chatter in the restaurant was at full pitch now and the smell of coconut milk and chili peppers made her mouth water. Her stomach grumbled and the image of her lonesome turkey sandwich sitting in the back of the fridge at Clarke reminded her of the uncertainty of life. Never would it have occurred to her upon awakening that last morning for work that she would be be sitting here today unemployed and buzzed.
    When the waitress appeared, Syeesha selected from the menu like a child making a wish list from a Toys “R” Us catalog. “For starters, I’ll take the crispy shrimp and also the spring rolls with extra sauce on the side. Then let’s have the fried calamari–”
    “Sy, I’m on a diet. I’m not eating fried shrimp.”
    Syeesha blinked, confused for a second. “I’ll just get it anyway,” Syeesha finally replied. “In case you change your mind.” She turned back to the waitress. “The pad Thai noodles and shrimp fried rice. No, make that beef fried rice. Did I mention the calamari?”
    The unsmiling waitress nodded as she scribbled the order.
    “And I’ll take that fried rice with brown rice instead of white.” Syeesha handed the menu back to the waitress. “I hear that’s supposed to be better for you.”
    Trina placed her order of green tea, soup, and house salad.
    “That’s it? That’s all you’re having?”
    “Unlike you, I have to watch my weight. I can’t eat like I’m preparing to swim in the Olympics and still walk around in a size six.”
    Syeesha heard the roughness in her big sister’s tone so she didn’t bother to tell her that she was actually a four.
    “I like your new haircut. You trying to ‘jack Michelle Obama’s style?” Syeesha asked.
    “The twenty extra pounds on my backside would prove that no, I am not hijacking her style.”
    “And work?”
    “Eh. Market’s rough. Only the really good agents will survive this one. I already know a couple of people who’ve packed up their for-sale signs and left New York.”
    Trina went on to tell tales about her colleagues’ antics to survive the killer real-estate market, using words like “slacker” and “unmotivated” to describe those who couldn’t cut it.
    If Trina thought the agent who only brought in “a quarter mil” last year was “sitting on the sidelines of life,” what would she think about my being fired from a legal secretary position?
    The appetizers arrived and Syeesha dug into the food, anxious to have it absorb some of the alcohol.
    “How’s the hot professor doing?” Trina swished water in her mouth as if she was taste-testing wine.
    “He’s still hot,” she said. Just the thought of her gorgeous professor—an anomaly in law school—brought a warm feeling to her stomach.
    “And your studies? How’s it