better get those drinks,” the waitress says finally as she turns and makes her way to the bar.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Mr. Hottie from class?” Roxie asks. She definitely doesn’t beat around the bush.
“You mean Aaron?” I clarify.
“Well, I definitely don’t mean Les.”
I think about how much I want to reveal to Roxie. I can def initely use an ally but I need to figure out if she’s as ruthless and cunning as I suspect she is.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” I start.
“But you want more,” Roxie finishes my thought.
“I want a lot more,” I admit.
“So what’s the problem?’ Roxie asks.
“His fiancé, Rainy Dey.”
Roxie raises an eyebrow. “How is she a problem?”
I grin because it’s obvious that Roxie is as ruthless and cunning as I suspected. And she’ll be the perfect ally in my scheme to get Aaron.
I tell Roxie everything. How I’ve been in love with Aaron for years. How much our parents want us to be together. Everything I know about his relationship with Rainy.
I completely spill my guts over multiple rounds of Maker’s Mark.
Then I tell her that I want her help in devising a plan to get Aaron and she readily agrees.
“I love the way your mind works,” she says. Her words are a bit slurred after our sixth or seventh round of drinks. I’ve completely lost count. “Ever given any thought to producing reality television?”
I start laughing and I can’t stop. I’ve never even seen a reality show and here I am sitting with a reality show star and apparently one of the biggest reality show producers in the business. It’s surreal. I wonder what my parents would think about it.
When the waitress comes back to our table, I know I’m in trouble because I’m seeing two of her.
“Another round?” she says but it sounds like she’s talking to us from underwater even though we’re still in the bar.
I can feel myself shake my head but my head feels like it’s somehow disconnected from my body.
“I could still drink a few more,” Roxie slurs. “That means I win our little wager.”
When I point at Roxie, my arm feels fake. “Prove it,” I slur.
“Another drink,” Roxie snaps but the waitress looks co ncerned.
“Maybe you’ve had enough,” the waitress replies.
“It’s not over until the fat lady sings,” Roxie belts out.
I laugh. “I don’t think I want to hear you sing.”
“We’ll take the check,” Roxie states.
I’m surprised when the bartender comes back with the check. “Did you both have fun?”
“We had a great time,” I say a little too enthusiastically because the liquor is really starting to hit me.
“Should I call a cab?” he suggests.
“I can drive,” I insist.
The bartender shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”
“I don’t like being told what to do.” I glare at the bartender.
He glares right back at me. “I don’t care. You, Princess, are not getting behind the wheel of a car.”
I gulp. There’s an edge to this guy that actually scares me a bit and I’m not easily shaken. And in a weird way, it’s even a bit of a turn on.
“Why don’t you call that boyfriend of yours to pick you up?” the bartender suggests.
“I already told you I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said.” He sounds unconvinced.
When I glance over at Roxie, her eyes are narrowed. “You have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I insist.
“Why don’t you text the guy who’s not your boyfriend to come and pick you up?” the bartender prods.
“Hell of an idea,” Roxie agrees. “I want to see this guy who’s supposedly not your boyfriend.”
When the bartender and Roxie high-five each other, I heave a sigh.
“Fine, I’ll text him.”
I look at my watch and I’m actually shocked to see it’s only a little after six. It seems much later. But that’s what happens when you start drinking in the early afternoon.
I grab my phone from my purse and text Evan.
Me:
“So, what’s the deal with you and Mr. Hottie from class?” Roxie asks. She definitely doesn’t beat around the bush.
“You mean Aaron?” I clarify.
“Well, I definitely don’t mean Les.”
I think about how much I want to reveal to Roxie. I can def initely use an ally but I need to figure out if she’s as ruthless and cunning as I suspect she is.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” I start.
“But you want more,” Roxie finishes my thought.
“I want a lot more,” I admit.
“So what’s the problem?’ Roxie asks.
“His fiancé, Rainy Dey.”
Roxie raises an eyebrow. “How is she a problem?”
I grin because it’s obvious that Roxie is as ruthless and cunning as I suspected. And she’ll be the perfect ally in my scheme to get Aaron.
I tell Roxie everything. How I’ve been in love with Aaron for years. How much our parents want us to be together. Everything I know about his relationship with Rainy.
I completely spill my guts over multiple rounds of Maker’s Mark.
Then I tell her that I want her help in devising a plan to get Aaron and she readily agrees.
“I love the way your mind works,” she says. Her words are a bit slurred after our sixth or seventh round of drinks. I’ve completely lost count. “Ever given any thought to producing reality television?”
I start laughing and I can’t stop. I’ve never even seen a reality show and here I am sitting with a reality show star and apparently one of the biggest reality show producers in the business. It’s surreal. I wonder what my parents would think about it.
When the waitress comes back to our table, I know I’m in trouble because I’m seeing two of her.
“Another round?” she says but it sounds like she’s talking to us from underwater even though we’re still in the bar.
I can feel myself shake my head but my head feels like it’s somehow disconnected from my body.
“I could still drink a few more,” Roxie slurs. “That means I win our little wager.”
When I point at Roxie, my arm feels fake. “Prove it,” I slur.
“Another drink,” Roxie snaps but the waitress looks co ncerned.
“Maybe you’ve had enough,” the waitress replies.
“It’s not over until the fat lady sings,” Roxie belts out.
I laugh. “I don’t think I want to hear you sing.”
“We’ll take the check,” Roxie states.
I’m surprised when the bartender comes back with the check. “Did you both have fun?”
“We had a great time,” I say a little too enthusiastically because the liquor is really starting to hit me.
“Should I call a cab?” he suggests.
“I can drive,” I insist.
The bartender shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”
“I don’t like being told what to do.” I glare at the bartender.
He glares right back at me. “I don’t care. You, Princess, are not getting behind the wheel of a car.”
I gulp. There’s an edge to this guy that actually scares me a bit and I’m not easily shaken. And in a weird way, it’s even a bit of a turn on.
“Why don’t you call that boyfriend of yours to pick you up?” the bartender suggests.
“I already told you I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said.” He sounds unconvinced.
When I glance over at Roxie, her eyes are narrowed. “You have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I insist.
“Why don’t you text the guy who’s not your boyfriend to come and pick you up?” the bartender prods.
“Hell of an idea,” Roxie agrees. “I want to see this guy who’s supposedly not your boyfriend.”
When the bartender and Roxie high-five each other, I heave a sigh.
“Fine, I’ll text him.”
I look at my watch and I’m actually shocked to see it’s only a little after six. It seems much later. But that’s what happens when you start drinking in the early afternoon.
I grab my phone from my purse and text Evan.
Me:
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