Page 91 of Dirty Like Jude
Dirty, DJ Summer, New Year’s Eve. Best party intown.
Not a Dirty show. Not a DJ Summer show. It was a double bill, and it was gonna sell out innanoseconds.
All I had to do was get the word out to the rightpeople.
As soon as we were done, Jessa was waiting to yank me up to her and Brody’sbedroom.
“Nicky’s asleep,” she informed me, “but he often wakes up about an hour after going down for more milk. So let’s dothis.”
No sooner had she shut and locked the bedroom door behind us than she had Katy Perry rocking on her iPhone, “I Kissed a Girl,” and cranked it through her BlueToothspeaker.
I raised an eyebrow. “Is there something I shouldknow?”
“It’s to keep Brody away,” she said, heading into the walk-in closet. “Katy Perry scares him. If my Girl Time playlist is rocking, he’s afraid we’re talking about our periods orsomething.”
“Are we talking about ourperiods?”
“No. I’m probably not having one for like the next two yearsanyway.”
“Huh?”
“While breastfeeding,” she said. “It probably won’t comeback.”
“Oh.” I put on a forced, pleasant-neutral smile and said, “How interesting.” Which had become my stock response for all the shit she told me about motherhood that freaked meout.
I lay on my stomach on her bed, playing on my phone and sipping my wine, checking messages and all my social media accounts while she set to work digging through her lingerie drawers. She’d put Nick to sleep in his little bassinet, which was down in the party room with Brody, and while Jessa and I had our “girl time,” Brody was on babyduty.
She’d already asked me to babysit tomorrow night, to come over and hang with Nick while she and Brody went on their little date. Two hours; she’d promised me that was the longest it would be, because apparently neither Nicky or her boobs could stand to be apart from each other any longer thanthat.
“I need you to tell me which one I should wear,” she said as she started pulling lingerie and laying it out on the bed around me. “I feel like I’ve already forgotten how this allworks.”
“It’s easy. Whichever one makes you feel mostbangable.”
She started peeling off her clothes in the walk-in closet and I went back to my phone. Taze, the little shit, had blocked me on Instagram. Unfortunate that I noticed that, but I did. It was the only social media account he kept; his account was private, and he mostly posted pictures of his motorcycle, but I’d still followedhim.
Now, he was just gone from thelist.
“I’m not even sure these are gonna fit my milk boobs…” Jessa was wiggling into a black lace teddy, struggling to arrange her bloated boobs into thecups.
“All the better,” I said. “Here’s the thing you’ve never seemed to grasp about men, my dear friend. Brody is not gonna complain if your boobs are fallingout.”
“Right,” she said, like she was trying to commit that little tip to memory for futureuse.
“What are you so nervous about? Brody’s seen your boobsbefore.”
Jessa walked out of the closet, and all she needed was a glittering runway and a fan to blow her hairback.
“Damn, girl. You still gotit.”
I expected her to smile, or laugh, or tell me to shutup.
“I’m proposing to him,” she blurtedinstead.
I stared at her. “What?”
“Yeah.” She gigglednervously.
“Holy… shit.” I got up and flew to her, giving her a hug. She clung to me. I couldfeelhow excited she was. How…nervous.
