“Adrienne!”
“What?”
“Oh my bejeezus, Adrienne!”
“What?!”
“Don’t play stupid with me.”
“I’m not playing dumb. What’s wrong with you, nutball?”
“What’s wrong is that my best friend is on every gossip blog on the planet and I’m the last to know. Seriously, A, it’s embarrassing. Everyone’s asking me for details and I don’t even have a clue what they’re talking about.”
“Dena, I need you to take a breath and explain yourself.”
“Oh ok, so this is how you’re going to play it? All cool and shit.”
“You’ve known me long enough to know that I don’t play games. Hell, I don’t even know how to play games. So cut the crap and just tell me what you’re accusing me of?”
“I’m accusing you of being a really rotten friend and not giving me all the tea about your dates. I’m the one that hooked it up! How dare you not tell me that Caroline arranged for you to date the quarterback of The New York Nighthawks! You and Jett freaking Caraway are all over social media. ”
“You’re mistaken, best friend.” Her accusation is hilarious. “I’m dating a starving artist named Jason.”
“No, Boo, you’re dating a millionaire named JasonJettCaraway. Woo-hoo!” She exclaims. “You really hit the jackpot with that one, A. Talk about leveling up.”
My stomach churns with disappointment.
What Dena’s saying sounds so ridiculous yet makes complete sense. The constant stares. Jason’s major injury. The out-of-the-way restaurants that gave us the best service I’ve ever seen. The flower bouquets that even I couldn’t afford. The intricate tattoo of a jet plane in flight on his back.
Jett.
He lied to me.
That mother humper lied to me.
“I’ll call you back.”
I hang up on Dena and open all of my social media Apps. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, but I remember what Dena said and type the search term, New York Nighthawks.
And that’s when I see it.
The first thing that comes up on my feed is a picture of Jason and me from last night in front of my apartment building hauling the television set inside. They conveniently cropped the Uber driver, who helped us out of the picture. Under the photograph is a caption that reads:
Jason Jett Caraway and Mystery Woman Moving In Together?
It’s a simple enough click-bait headline, but the story which follows is another matter. It basically suggests that his “affair” with me may be the reason why an entire football team is not winning this season.
Holy crap.
I’m startled out of my daze when the phone rings again and it’s my cousin Carline. She’s a cousin on my father’s side of the family, and the two of us don’t normally chat. In fact, I haven’t seen her since the last Hodges family wedding. The only reason she would be calling me is because she knows something about this and wants to confirm that this picture is the real deal. I ignore the call but notice a new text from her.
Carline: Is that my little cousin making out with a baller from the Nighthawks? WOW! Can you get me tickets to a game and does he have a friend?
If she knows about this headline, my entire family knows, which means that it won’t be long before my mother decides to call and that’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to having. Can you imagine?
Are you dating a football player now, hun?
Oh no, Mom, I just fucked him all night to help eradicate the memories of Troy fucking another woman in my house.
