Relationships of Convenience, Part 2

    This story contains adult language and themes. If such language and themes
offend you, please do not read further. Copyright 1998 by SSTORYMAN. All
rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce this story in any form and
for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no financial
remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the person reproducing
it.

    RELATIONSHIPS OF CONVENIENCE

    Part 2

    After Aimee had dropped her off at home, Brandi walked to the strip
shopping center down the street. It was a ten minute hike. It was Friday
night. The weather was pleasant. Walking seemed like a good idea. In addition,
there was a Dunkin Donuts store in the shopping center. That had something to
do with Brandi's motivation.

    She walked by the shopping center's coffee shop. A couple dozen people sat
in the outdoor seating area drinking coffee.

    A voice called out from one of the tables. "Brandi? Brandi Johnston?"

    Brandi looked. One young woman sat alone. She smiled. She was the one who
called. She was blond, attractive and strangely familiar.

    "Bette?" Brandi gasped. "Bette Sanderson! Oh my God! I haven't seen you
for ages. How are you?"

    "Not since high school," the other girl replied. She sat with a magazine,
a cup of coffee and a big smile. "I'm fine. God, you look great. You're still
tall and thin and cute as a button! Except, what's with the short, frizzy
hair? Is that new? Sit down and chat, if you have time."

    Brandi Johnston and Bette Sanderson were high school friends who went
separate ways after graduation. Like her sister, Paige, Bette Sanderson was an
attractive blond. Tonight she wore a burgundy jogging suit with gold stripes.
She looked relaxed and carefree. She brushed her blond hair away from her
face, and peered over her sunglasses.

    Brandi sat down. "I live with my sister," she said. "We both work at
Rogers Paving on Summit Avenue in the accounting offices. How about you? What
are you doing?"

    Bette smiled. "I'm studying fashion design at the University," she said.
"I live in the dorms. I also work full time. My schedule's packed. Quite a
change from high school."

    Brandi nodded. "Yeah. But we had fun in high school," she sighed.

    A light breeze wafted through the early evening air. The conversation was
slightly forced, almost awkward - strange, in light of their history together.

    "Do you ever see the others from high school?" Brandi finally asked.

    "A few," Bette replied. "I see Karyn and Christina once in awhile. But I
lost track of Susanna, Lindsey and you." She smiled. "Until now, that is. We
did have good times together. I'll never forget how we used to sneak out
during lunch option to smoke together!"

    Brandi nodded. She saw cigarette butts in the ashtray and a pack of Salem
Light 100's on the table beside Bette's coffee cup. "I gather you're still
smoking?" Brandi asked.

    Bette smiled. "Of course," she laughed. "You know me. I'm never gonna
quit!" She fingered her pack of Salem Light 100's and absent-mindedly spun it
on the table. "What about you? Did you ever come out of the closet? Or are you
still a secret smoker?"

    "No, I never came out of the closet," Brandi admitted. "Actually, I quit."

    "Why? I thought you'd 'go public' as soon as you turned 18. What
happened?"

    Brandi sighed. "It's a long story. It was a health thing. You remember
when I developed diabetes before our senior year?"

    Bette nodded. "Yeah, you had to prick your finger all the time in the rest
room, to test your blood sugar," she answered. "It grossed us out!"

    "Right," Brandi agreed. "But my smoking was secret from everyone,
including my doctor. Right after graduation I went in for a checkup. My doctor
asked if I smoked. I think she smelled it on my clothes. I didn't know what to
say. I was turning 18 soon. Mom had always said Aimee and I could make our own
decisions about tobacco, but we had to wait 'til we were legal age. She was
super strict, so I didn't want her to know 'til I turned 18."

    Bette interrupted. "Before you go on, do you mind if I smoke?"

    "No," Brandi shrugged. "Go ahead."

    Bette put a cigarette in her mouth and reached for her lighter. In one
sweeping motion she raised it and clicked the button. The flame caught the
cigarette's tip. She pulled hard, resulting in an initial mouthful of smoke
which she quickly sucked into her waiting lungs.

    She smiled. "Thanks. I needed that." Bette exhaled twin streams of smoke
from her nostrils while the cigarette dangled from her lips. "Go on," she
said, finally removing the cigarette after a second drag. "Finish."

    Brandi smiled. Seeing her old friend smoke brought back memories. She
continued.

    "My doctor gave me a lecture about smoking and diabetes. She said smoking
increases the risks of heart disease and circulatory problems, both of which
are already greater risks for insulin dependent diabetics." Brandi shook her
head. "It scared me. I quit, two weeks before my eighteenth birthday." She
looked at Bette. "Ironic, huh? She scared the shit out of me."

    Bette exhaled a stream of smoke in the evening air. "I'd have told that
bitch to go fuck herself," she smirked irreverently. She exhaled the residue
of the smoke and added. "Too bad. But did you miss it?"

    "At first. But Mom got sick soon after that. Aimee and I spent lots of
time at the hospital that summer. I got out of the routine of smoking. When
Mom finally died É." Her voice tailed off. She smiled. "I didn't think about
it much after that." She paused. "Until today," she added.

    Bette seemed pleased by Brandi's admission. "I'll bet it's because I'm
smoking. Do you miss it because you're jealous seeing me with a cigarette?"

    "Not really," Brandi sighed. "My sister Aimee said the strangest thing
last night She suggested smoking might help control my compulsive eating."

    "Wow! Your sister never knew you smoked?"

    "No," Brandi smiled. "It was a secret." She blushed. "Aimee's worried
because I'm not supposed to eat junk food," she explained. "But sometimes É
okay, I'll be honest É lots of times I eat doughnuts and other stuff. It makes
my blood sugar go super high. That's bad."

    "Why?" asked Bette, again exhaling a cloud of smoke.

    "High blood sugar is bad for diabetics," Brandi answered. "It causes
complications."

    "But are they worse than the problems smoking supposedly causes?"

    "I guess," Brandi admitted. "High blood sugar is a killer in the long
run."

    "Isn't that interesting?" Bette smiled sweetly. "What a great idea! If you
smoke, you won't eat junk food. Shit, you won't need to. You'll be too busy
puffing away," she added sarcastically. She paused to tap some ashes on the
ground. "I wish someone would tell _me_ smoking is a good idea. But you're
right, smoking does control my appetite," she went on. "But hell, you know
that. You smoked with me in high school. What are you waiting for?" She held
out her pack of Salems. "Do you want one?"

    Brandi hesitated. "No thanks," she said reluctantly.

    "Why not?" Bette demanded. "I thought your sister wanted you to. Go
ahead."

    Brandi shook her head. "Last night Aimee changed her mind, said she was
sorry she brought up such a dumb idea. But I started thinking. I liked it in
high school. Smoking might help my eating problem. But if I did start again,
I'll never be able to quit next time."

    "So? Don't let there be a next time," Brandi shot back. If you smoke
instead of eat, everyone will be happy. You always liked smoking in high
school. I figured you'd be a pack a day girl if you ever came out of the
closet. You got sidetracked, that's all. C'mon back into the fold." Again,
Bette held out her pack of Salems.

    Brandi nervously tapped her fingers on the table. "I don't know, Bette,
É."

    Bette ground her cigarette into the ashtray. Without hesitation, she took
two more Salems from the pack and put them in her mouth. She lit them,
simultaneously puffing on both cigarettes at once. A huge cloud of smoke
escaped from the corners of her mouth. Removing one, she held it out to
Brandi. "Here," Bette smiled smugly, the other cigarette still propped in her
mouth. She wiggled the one between her fingers. "Take it."

    "God, Bette, I'm not sure É," stammered Brandi.

    "Take it, damn it," Bette ordered. A cigarette dangled from her pouting
lips; streams of smoke trickled from her nostrils. "If you don't take it, this
second cigarette will go to waste. I can only smoke one at a time. Will you
take it or not?"

    Brandi reached out and took the lit cigarette. It had been a long time
since she'd held one. But it didn't seem strange. It seemed É normal. She
looked at it. God, she held a burning cigarette in her fingers, and it was
waiting for her to É.

    "Take a puff," Bette whispered. "Go ahead! Brandi, the cigarette will
taste _so_ good! Oh, baby! Remember how great the sweet, thick, milky-white
smoke feels when it trickles down into your lungs? God, I know you do. Wrap
your sweet lips around that clean white filter tip and take a long, deep drag.
Suck that wonderful, rich smoke into your lungs. It's just like the old days,
Brandi. C'mon. Do it!"

    Hypnotized, Brandi lifted the cigarette to her mouth. A change in the wind
blew smoke in her face. It smelled inviting, pleasant. This cigarette is
waiting to be smoked, she thought. She placed her lips around the filter.

    "That's the girl!" encouraged Bette. "Take a big drag. Don't be shy. You
want it. It'll feel so fuckin' good! Go for it!"

    Brandi began to suck. Motor memory suddenly kicked in, and she drew
harder. Smoke filled her mouth. It tasted good, like she remembered. She
inhaled. For a moment the smoke felt strange in her lungs. Then, suddenly, it
was pure heaven!

    "Oh, God," Brandi exclaimed. "This is great!" She pursed her lips and
slowly emptied her lungs. The stream of smoke was rich and thick.

    "Naturally," Bette answered smugly. "What did you expect? Welcome back,
Brandi. After two years in anti-land, you're a smoker again. It must feel
good! Admit it. Isn't it great?"

    Brandi was in the middle of another long drag. She wanted more smoke.
"Yes," she gasped, inhaling again. "The menthol is so cool. God, it's good."
She paused to exhale another stream of milky white smoke into the breeze. "But
I'm only smoking one."

    "Yeah, right," Bette said sarcastically. "Look at you. You're smoking like
a maniac. Do you want to stop?"

    Brandi was on her third drag. She exhaled. "No, I don't want to stop," she
sighed. "You're right. I love smoking. God, I wonder if Aimee would really let
me smoke? It doesn't feel like a dumb idea right now!"

    The thought of smoking in their apartment excited Brandi. She imagined how
it would be to smoke in her bedroom, with no one to tell her she shouldn't or
couldn't. She pushed the last of the smoke from her lungs.

    Bette interrupted. "She'd better let you smoke. Shit, she brought it up.
She can't take it back now! God, what a perfect excuse," she laughed. "Smoking
to control your eating."

    Brandi continued smoking, exhaling slowly, as Bette went on. "Think about
it. You've got a legitimate reason to smoke. It's actually good for you. God,
if I were you, I'd buy a carton of cigarettes, several ashtrays and a lighter.
I'd go home and do some serious smoking."

    Brandi felt lightheaded. "God, I'd like to," she answered. She watched her
exhale. The smoke was thick and creamy. She loved watching smoke come from her
mouth. She smiled as she tapped some ashes to the ground. "It feels damn good
to be smoking É again."

    Bette nodded. "I knew it would. It's like riding a bicycle, you know."

    Brandi frowned. "But Aimee still doesn't like smoke. She said I'd have to
smoke in my room, that she wouldn't want the smell in the rest of the
townhouse." She paused. "Damn!"

    While Brandi stewed, Bette put her cigarette in her mouth and shook her
head, pulling her hair back. "God, you're lucky to have short hair," she
muttered while her lips balanced the cigarette. Pulling a scrunchie from her
purse, she deftly put her hair in a pony tail. "Long hair's a pain in the
ass," she sighed, finally retrieving her cigarette with a long deliberate
puff.

    But Brandi wasn't listening. Her head was spinning. More nicotine hit her
system with each drag. But she didn't slow down. She inhaled again and
stretched her long arms in front of her as she did. She loved having smoke in
her lungs. She loved seeing it come out of her mouth and nose. "God," she
sighed, finally exhaling. "If Aimee lets me smoke, I swear I'll never eat
another doughnut in my life."

    "You won't need to," Bette said with a wink. "You'll want nicotine more
than stupid doughnuts." She watched Brandi take a last drag and drop her
cigarette to the ground. She's fallen like a ton of bricks, Bette chuckled to
herself. She's a goner! She too dropped her cigarette and crushing it under
the heel of her sandal.

    "I'll tell you what," Bette grinned. "Let's smoke one more." To make sure
you're good and hooked, she thought to herself. "Then we'll stop at the
drugstore and buy you a carton." She shook two more cigarettes from her green
Salem wrapper.

    Brandi smiled. "Okay," she agreed. "I'd love to."

    Bette gave another long, slender white cigarette to her backsliding
friend, who laughed, accepting the second Salem. "Help me decide what to tell
my sister. I'm not sure what to say."

    Bette lit Brandi's cigarette and then her own. "Don't worry," Bette
grinned, swiftly pulling smoke into her own lungs. Brandi was inhaling deeply,
too, smoking her second cigarette with even more enthusiasm than the first.
Her resilient young body was adjusting well to the reintroduction of nicotine.
"You'll think of something to tell Aimee," Bette laughed.

   
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Aimee sat in a small cafe down the street from Paige's apartment. For ten
minutes she'd been trying to screw up her courage. She took a deep breath and
opened her purse. Out come the pack of Marlboro Lights 100's. Unopened. Virgin
territory. She looked around. She saw no one she knew. No one was paying
attention to her.

    "I'm going to do it," she whispered to herself. "I'm going to smoke."

    She awkwardly tore the cellophane from the soft pack. She tapped it on her
wrist. She didn't know why, but it seemed appropriate.

    She opened the wrapper. The tightly packed, clean white tips of twenty
cigarettes waited for her. She tapped the pack on the bottom. Several pushed
their way out. She extended her long fingers, and slowly removed one. Her
anticipation was building.

    Again Aimee looked around. She put the cigarette in her mouth. She clicked
the lighter. The flame jumped to life, scaring her for a moment. She
recovered, and slowly moved the flame toward the cigarette hanging from her
lips. It ignited.

    Aimee expected it taste bitter, but it didn't. She inhaled. Her lungs
tightened, and then relaxed. This cigarette was É better than the first two
she smoked with Paige. The smoke tasted good. She made an "O" with her mouth
and blew out. The creamy consistency of the smoke was impressive! She'd held
it inside for almost ten seconds. But she wanted more.

    For several minutes Aimee was in another world. Oblivious to her
surroundings, she smoked. "What have I missed?" she asked. "It's great. It
feels so nice when smoke goes in my lungs." Her head began throbbing. "It's
the nicotine," she told herself. "But I don't mind it."

    Puff after puff, Aimee welcomed smoke into her lungs. Mine are virgin
lungs, she thought. The image of creamy, rich smoke filling them, time after
time, allowing nicotine to course through her body, made her crotch feel wet.
"In fact," she realized with a smile, "I've been wet ever since I left Paige's
apartment. Ever since É."

    "Aimee?" interrupted a voice. "Is that you?"

    She almost dropped her cigarette. Startled, she looked up. She gasped.
"Bill?"

    Bill Weathers stood beside her. How did she miss seeing him? He must have
just entered the cafe. Oh, no, she sighed. What a disaster!

    Aimee and Bill were friends, but nothing more, until several months ago,
when they started going out. No, that's not right, Aimee reminded herself.
They weren't going out. They were just fucking each other. It was a
relationship of convenience, a way to get laid without commitment. No more and
no less.

    It had started at a party. They'd had a couple beers. Aimee was horny, and
one thing led to another. They wound up in bed. It was a good time. Now they
saw each other once or twice a week, with no commitment, just sex. Aimee
enjoyed it. She was conservative, but she liked getting laid. The relationship
had few expectations. Even so, she was aghast seeing Bill because she was
smoking!

    "Aimee, what the hell are you doing?" Bill asked. Without being invited,
he sat down.

    Aimee weakly smiled. "What does it look like? I'm smoking." She cocked her
wrist like Paige, holding her cigarette by the side of her head. She tried to
act cute. It wasn't working.

    "I never knew you smoked," he said. His tone of voice showed disapproval.
So did his expression.

    She didn't know what to say. "I'm thinking of taking it up," she offered
lamely.

    "It's a disgusting habit," Bill replied somberly. "You look ridiculous.
Smoking is bad for you. C'mon, tell the truth. What's going on? Is this a
joke?"

    Aimee explained her plan about Brandi. She told him calmly. But she was
too embarrassed to take a puff with Bill watching, so she finally crushed her
cigarette in the ashtray.

    "I'm shocked," Bill sputtered. "Are you serious? Smoking isn't good for
Brandi or anybody else. What the fuck is the matter? Don't you understand?
Don't you watch TV?"

    Aimee didn't like being lectured. She started to get mad. "You don't
understand," she began. "Brandi's blood sugar is out of control. I'm trying to
solve her problem. You don't know anything about smoking."

    "That's not true. I tried smoking once."

    "You did? When?"

    "I was sixteen," Bill responded.

    Aimee was strangely encouraged. "Did you like it?" she asked.

    "No. It made me sick. I think people who smoke are stupid."

    "Oh?" Aimee replied, irritated by his superior tone. "What if I do start
smoking?"

    Bill paused. "You're going to?" he said. "Shit, I thought this was some
stupid game. Pushing it on Brandi is bad enough. But I can't believe you'd
start smoking, too."

    Aimee's answer surprised both of them. "Helping Brandi is the main idea,"
she said with confidence. "But I've decided I like it, so I'm going to smoke,
too." She gave him a cold smile. "Does that mean you think I'm stupid?"

    Bill shook his head. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. But
smoking is terrible. I don't like it," he said plainly. "I don't like smokers,
either. If you're going to smoke, Aimee, I'm not sure we can continue our
little É understanding."

    With a flair, Aimee shook her head, flipping her hair. When it settled
behind her head, she spoke in a resolute tone. "You mean you won't fuck me
anymore? Is that it?"

    Bill looked startled. But he said nothing.

    "We've had fun," Aimee went on, her blue eyes blazing. "Our relationship
was convenient for us both. We fucked because neither of us likes being alone.
But you don't love me, Bill. Hell, you don't even care about me. I don't give
a shit what you think. I'm good looking, and I'm damn good in bed. If you
won't fuck me because I smoke, it's over."

    Anger entered Bill's voice. "You bitch! You're serious?" he asked. "You're
going to smoke? Really?"

    "Really," Aimee smiled. "And if I'm a bitch, I'm a smoking bitch. Live
with it, or live without it, Bill. I don't care."

    He stood and snorted. "Ruin your life, then," he blurted out. "And your
sister's, too. See if I care!" He turned and walked to the door. Before
leaving, he turned. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

    "I won't," Aimee said with an icy glare. "Go fuck yourself, Bill!"

    After he stomped out, Aimee realized the cafŽ's patrons had heard every
word. Everyone in the room heard the whole exchange. Ignoring them, she stared
at the wall.

    She shook her head and shifted her long blond hair. What an asshole, she
fumed. What gives him the right to lecture me? I'm helping my sister. Where
does he get off giving me shit?

    She was agitated. Then it hit her. Somehow she knew that having another
cigarette would make her feel better. She wanted one, right now.

    Well, why not? She took a Marlboro from the pack. It was long and white.
She sniffed it. It smelled good. She placed it in her lips. She smiled. She
flicked her lighter.

    She inhaled and welcomed smoke into her lungs. "I guess my body does
tolerate nicotine unusually well." The smoke escaped from her nose as she
began a second drag. She inhaled again. "I'm helping Brandi," she sighed.
"Even if it weren't so pleasant, I'd smoke anyway. I'm not quitting because of
that asshole!"

    "More coffee?" asked a voice. Aimee turned. It belonged to the waitress,
an attractive, dark-haired woman. She appeared to be Latin American, probably
in her early 30's. She wasn't particularly talkative before. But now she
seemed quite attentive. "Regular, not decaf, right?"

    "Yes, please. I'd love more coffee," Aimee smiled.

    The waitress began pouring. Aimee realized she had exhaled while she
talked. She'd never done that. It was cool. "That's fine," she said as the
waitress finished freshening her cup.

    "Listen, it's none of my business," whispered the waitress, with a
decidedly Spanish accent. "But I heard you give that guy hell. I came to say,
bravo. Don't let that bastard run your life. If you want to smoke, mi amiga,
then smoke."

    Aimee looked at the badge with the waitress' name on her blue and white
uniform. Her name was Katarina. Her skin color, features and Spanish accent
confirmed her ancestry.

    "Thanks, Katarina. I appreciate that," she smiled, holding her cigarette
cocked in the air. The smoke drifted lazily up to the ceiling. She decided to
ask Katarina something, though it was none of her business, either. "Tell me,
Katarina, do you smoke?"

    Katarina blushed and looked around. The cafŽ was not busy. It was too
early in the evening for the after dinner crowd, and too late for those
stopping for dinner after work.

    "Yes, I do," Katarina whispered, as if fearing a reprimand for admitting
to a customer the existence of her habit. She smiled and patted the pocket of
her apron. Aimee saw a conspicuous rectangular bulge. There was a pack of
cigarettes inside.

    "This is why I was so happy that you gave him hell," Katarina continued,
fondling the cigarettes in her apron pocket. "I used to live with a man who
wanted me to quit smoking. He complained and complained. He said my smoking
was bad for me and bad for the baby. I told him to fuck off, that the baby
didn't care. If I wanted to smoke, I would smoke. He wasn't even the father,
for God's sake! But he wanted to reform me. Stand your ground. Men who want to
change their women are never happy, even when they get what they want. With
them, there's always something more."

    Aimee admired the fire in Katarina's eyes. She was not tall; probably
under five foot three. But she had the heart of a giant.

    "Will you sit down?" Aimee asked. "I don't want to get you in trouble, but
I'd love the company. The restaurant isn't busy." Aimee flashed a smile as she
took a drag on her cigarette. "You could smoke with me," she teased as she
inhaled.

    "Gracias," Katarina replied. "I'd love a cigarette. But I cannot sit with
customers. My break comes at seven thirty. That's in a few minutes." She
nodded her head at the back of the cafŽ. "Our break table is there," she
motioned. "I'd love to talk with you and, of course, smoke with you, too. I
will smoke two or three cigarettes on my break."

    "That would be great," Aimee smiled. "When you're ready, I'll join you."

    Katarina smiled shyly in return. "I'll look forward to it."

    Aimee finished her cigarette. It was pleasant to sit in the quiet cafŽ and
smoke. She felt no adverse effects from the nicotine. She took a sip of coffee
and looked at her watch. It was seven fifteen. She watched Katarina. There
weren't enough customers in the cafŽ to keep both Katarina and the other
waitress fully occupied. Aimee smiled. "My first new friend who's a smoker,"
she mused.

    Shortly after seven thirty Katarina whispered something to the other
waitress and the young man at the cash register. She walked to the back of the
cafŽ and sat down. She caught Aimee's eye. She understood. It was time.

    She grabbed her coffee and walked to Katarina's table. By the time she
arrived, Katarina had removed her cigarettes from her apron pocket. A green
and white hard pack on the table said "Kool 100's." A cork-tipped cigarette
was in Katarina's hungry mouth. She was obviously ready to light up.

    "Thank you for coming," Katarina said politely, with the unlit cigarette
bobbing in her mouth. "I've lost my lighter," she apologized. "May I borrow
yours?"

    "Oh, sure," Aimee smiled casually. It was in her sweater pocket. She
handed it to Katarina. Lending her lighter made her feel like a veteran
smoker.

    Katarina greedily turned the wheel. She held the flame against the tip of
her cigarette. It caught fire and Katarina took a long, deliberate drag,
puffing much harder than Paige did. Katarina followed by sucking the smoke
deep into her lungs. The cigarette rested in her mouth as she handed the
lighter back.

    "Muchas gracias," Katarina finally sighed, reluctantly allowing smoke to
escape. "Ordinarily I'd borrow Kristi's lighter - she's the other waitress.
But I knew you'd have one."

    Aimee glanced at the girl behind the counter. Kristi barely looked old
enough to work, let alone to smoke. "Do all the waitresses here smoke?" Aimee
asked, a bit surprised.

    Katarina smiled. "Si, but of course," she said, finally removing the
cigarette from her lips. "It's almost a prerequisite in the food business.
Every waitress smokes."

    Katarina was older, but attractive. Her fiery Latino beauty was entirely
different from Aimee's northern European look. Katarina's dark hair, piercing
eyes and high strung temperament completed the picture. Aimee liked her
immediately.

    Katarina smiled shyly. "I'm sorry. I don't know your name," she said.

    "Oh, my God," Aimee apologized. "I know yours because of your name badge.
My name is Aimee; Aimee Johnston. I'm pleased to meet you."

    "The pleasure is mine," Katarina smiled, with lips and eyes flashing. Her
cigarette was cocked in the air as she looked across the table. "But aren't
you going to smoke?" Katarina asked. "I hate to smoke alone," she added. Her
eyes blazed with anticipation.

    "Oh, God, yes," Aimee smiled back, a bit embarrassed. "Oh, shit! I left my
cigarettes at my table. Hang on. I'll be right back."

    Before she could get up, Katarina stopped her. "Have one of mine," she
offered. "If you don't mind smoking menthols."

    Aimee looked at the green and white box of Kools. "I'd love to try one,"
she smiled graciously. "Thank you." She picked up the box and removed one of
Katarina's cigarettes.

    She put it between her lips. Hmm, Aimee thought. Paige said her sister
smokes menthols, and that menthol smoke tastes cooler. I guess I'll find out,
she told herself.

    Aimee lit up. With the first puff, she noticed the cork-tipped Kool's
distinctive taste. The menthol smoke hit her mouth like an icy blast. It was
different, but nice.

    "I've never smoked menthols," Aimee said with her lungs full. She pursed
her lips and slowly exhaled into the air. "They're nice."

    "Never?" Katarina asked incredulously. "How long have you been smoking?"

    Aimee had hoped to pose as a seasoned smoker. But there was no point in a
charade. "Actually," she admitted hesitantly, "I just started." She took
another drag. Inhaling the mentholated smoke, she again felt an icy sensation
in her throat and lungs. She smiled as she held it in. Cool was the right
word.

    "Then perhaps I misspoke when I encouraged you to speak harshly to your
boyfriend," Katarina smiled. "If smoking is new for you, maybe he had a right
to be unhappy."

    "Nonsense," Aimee replied, finally exhaling. "He was an asshole, and I
treated him like one. It pisses me off the way he tries to control me. It's
not like we had a serious commitment, but he always tries to change my
behavior to suit him. Well, no more. Goodbye, Bill." She took another drag,
inhaled and blew another cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

    Katarina smiled. She said nothing.

    "You know, these are great," Aimee said. "They're so cool. And they're
stronger than my cigarettes." She smiled. "I like them."

    "These are not lights," Katarina explained. "These Kools have both strong
tobacco flavor and menthol. I think they're wonderful."

    "Yeah, me too," Aimee agreed. The cork-tipped cigarette had a different
look than the all-white Marlboro Lights 100's. But it had an elegance all its
own, she decided.

    Aimee tried to make conversation. "You have a baby, Katarina?" she asked.

    "Oh, yes," came the reply. She took a drag. "She is the light of my life."

    "How old is she? What's her name?"

    Katarina exhaled. Paige always exhaled slowly and deliberately, but
Katarina's exhales were all quick and forceful. It must be her Latin
personality, Aimee decided.

    "Maria is two years old," Katarina began. "My sister Margarita cares for
her while I'm at work and school. It is not ideal, but Margarita helps me. For
that I'm thankful."

    Aimee asked about Katarina's former boyfriend. She asked if Katarina still
smoked around Maria.

    "Si," Katarina answered without apology. "It is my house. I smoke in my
house. So does Margarita." She laughed. "She smokes more than me. Two packs
each day, at least. I told my former boyfriend, Roberto, I would never ask
Margarita to stop smoking around Maria. Margarita does me a big favor watching
little Maria every day."

    "But aren't you worried about second hand smoke?" Aimee asked.

    "No," Katarina laughed. Her eyes began flashing. "People in this country
are so foolish! I am the sixth of seven children. In my family, my parents, my
brothers and my sisters all smoked. It did not hurt me. I am in good health. I
do not believe it will hurt Maria, either."

    Aimee was fascinated. "When did you start?" she asked curiously.

    "At sixteen," Katarina replied proudly. "In my family, the men may smoke
when they turn sixteen. But my oldest sister, Rosa, insisted on the same
privilege. She began smoking on her sixteenth birthday, too, just like my
brothers. Therefore, Margarita and I were also permitted to smoke when we
turned sixteen."

    "Wow," Aimee smiled. "You smoked because of your older sister? Did she
help you?"

    "Si," answered Katarina. "Rosa is three years older. In our culture, the
influence of an older sister is very great. Before my sixteenth birthday, Rosa
took me aside and offered to teach me. I was grateful. From the beginning, I
enjoyed smoking very much."

    Aimee was intrigued. She thought about her relationship with Brandi. "What
happened with your younger sister, Margarita? She smokes, too?"

    "Yes," came the amused reply. "Margarita also loves to smoke. She is two
years younger. Like Rosa did with me, I assisted Margarita in learning to
smoke before her sixteenth birthday."

    "But Margarita had never smoked? I mean, she never smoked before that?"

    "No," Katarina answered. "My father was strict. None of the children broke
his rules without suffering consequences. But it was understood that the older
sisters could prepare the younger ones in all things. Margarita was very
excited. She smoked her first cigarette with me in private two weeks before
her sixteenth birthday. We worked on it every day so that on her birthday she
could smoke with the adults without embarrassment."

    Katarina saw Aimee's amazement. "We feel different about smoking in my
culture. Smoking is not looked upon as such a bad thing. That is why I do not
worry about Maria. Someday she will smoke, too."

    By now, both girls had finished their cigarettes. Katarina looked at her
watch. "I have time for one more," she smiled. "Will you smoke another
cigarette with me?"

    "Sure," Aimee replied. "I'd love to." It was true. Despite the higher tar
and nicotine content of Katarina's cigarettes, Aimee felt good. Katarina
handed her another Kool and she accepted it gladly.

    "What do you do, Katarina, when you're not working?" Aimee asked,
imitating her new friend and cocking her cigarette beside her right ear.

    "I am finishing a degree in computer science at the University," she said
shyly. "I will have my degree in six months."

    "No kidding?" Aimee whistled. "It's great that being a single mom hasn't
stopped you from finishing your education. You must not have time for much
else."

    "Actually, that's not true. My education is important," Katarina said.
"But I also love to party. I make time for things I enjoy. Roberto complained
I was wild. But I believe in enjoying life. I drink and smoke because I enjoy
these things. I like a good time. My parents hope I will marry and settle down
someday. I do not think it will happen. I'm not naturally É how do you say? É
monogamous." She took a quick drag off her cigarette. "If I'm attracted to
someone, I sleep with him. I sleep with whomever I want, whenever I want.
Perhaps you think that's bad. But I believe in doing what feels good. That's
why I smoke. It makes me feel good. I think feeling good is not a bad thing."

    Aimee was fascinated. Her new friend was loyal to family, but independent.
She was conscientious about school and motherhood, but a free spirit.
Katarina's philosophy didn't bother her. In fact, it seemed É exciting. She
admired Katarina's candor. She wasn't afraid of what people thought. She
sighed. "I wish I could be more like you, Katarina," Aimee said.

    Katarina stared at Aimee through the smoky air. "You will be," she said
solemnly. "My sisters tease me about this, but I have intuition. Somehow I
just know things. You will make changes in your life, Aimee Johnston. Perhaps
smoking is one of them. You are becoming more aggressive, more aware of what
you want." She paused for a drag on her cigarette. "No longer will you let the
opinions of others control you." She exhaled forcefully. "Changes will occur
in your sex life, too. For the first time in a long time, you will be truly
happy. Smoking may be part of this. I only hope you will learn to enjoy
smoking as much as my sisters and I do."

    Aimee was flabbergasted. "Thanks, Katarina. I hope you're right."

    Katarina looked at her watch. "I'm right," she said, double-pumping her
rapidly shrinking Kool. "But I must return to my job. Kristi is ready for her
break. She needs a cigarette, too. Or two cigarettes," she added with a
knowing smile. After a last hit, Katarina exhaled a big cloud of smoke into
the air and stood up. She slipped her Kools back into her apron pocket. "Vaya
con Dios, my friend," she said softly. "You will find your way."

   
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Previous part | Next part