Page 136 of Hot Mess
“I didn’t shut him down!” I hissed back.
“You sent him home, alone, without any pussy. What would you call it?”
I came out of the stall and gave her aShut-your-facelook. “Seriously, Dani. No one wants to hear it.”
“I do,” said some random girl at the sinks, and her friend laughed.
I put my head down and washed my hands.
Daniella loomed over me. “He’s a gorgeous rock star. You think he’s gonna ask you twice?”
“Maybe. If he really wants me.”
“Oh, get over yourself. You’re making him chase you? Why? He already hired you to redecorate his place. He sat through brunch with me. He stalked you here tonight. What more do you need?”
I dried my hands, ignoring her, then took a look at my face. I looked drunk, and like I’d just had my world rocked. But at least my makeup wasn’t smeared. I smoothed my hair and put on some more lipstick. I’d kissed it all off on Ashley’s neck.
“You make ittoohard for him, he’s gonna give up,” my sister pressed. Then she plucked the lipstick from my hand and started putting it on her lips.
“Why do you care?” I asked her.
“Are you serious right now?”
“What is up your butt tonight?”
“Why would you blow him off?”
We glared at each other in the mirror. God, we both looked so drunk. Fortunately, so did every other girl in the room. Half of whom were listening to this right now.
I took a deep breath. “I told you, he’s my client—”
“Bullshit! For like another few days. What else have you got?”
“You, for one.”
“Me? What the hell does this have to do with me? And do not say Alaska.”
“Why not? You know we have a rule about men.”
“About ex-boyfriends. Ashley Player was never my boyfriend.”
“Would youshut up?” Did she really have to drop his name, right now? Who knew if any of these girls knew him or something?
“You girls are better than a soap opera,” the girl next to us said. “I mean that as a compliment.”
“Yeah,” Dani said, grabbing my arm. “Her boyfriend came back from the dead and I fucked him. Tune in next week for the rest.” Then she yanked me into the hall outside the washroom, where we continued our stupid drunken squabble.
“Can you keep your voice down?” I yanked out of her grasp. “And don’t say his name. He’s famous. Have some tact.”
“Me? I saw him hand-screwing you like half an hour ago, right in the bar.”
Oh, God. Shesawthat?
“He asked you tomarryhim,” I hissed.
Yep. We were really doing this.
Too. Many. Shooters.
