“Cheat.”
“Oh … is it cheating now to look? If that’s the case, then Dexter can sue me for a divorce ten times over.”
They both laugh again.
I take an angry bite of my chicken marsala and quietly chew.
“You seem a little sensitive about the subject, little sister. I thought this was something you wanted, or did you want your replacement to be butt ugly?”
More laughter.
Could I just toss a glass of water in their faces?
“It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. You two are annoying.”
“Yep, we are.”
“Oh crap, that’s Dexter calling me. His meeting finished early. He’s picking me up,” Carla announces.
“What?! We just got here.”
“We did not,” she disputes. “We’ve been here for an hour. Gotta go and get my mandatory five o’clock bedrest.”
“Well it’s just us cool kids now.”
“Yep.”
“You want to go back to work?”
“Nope. There’s literally nothing for me to do if I go back there.”
“You want to get drunk?”
“Hellzyeah!”
Monica and I order a round of cocktails and a round of shots. About two drinks and one shot later the ache I was feeling has dissipated, and in place of it sits a warm glow that I wish I could feel all of the time.
“This must be why people drink,” I say as I start sipping my third rum cocktail. Pinky in the air. Lips feeling a little tingly.
“You feeling no pain, little sister?”
“None at all.”
“Me too. Wait, I gotta tinkle.” Monica giggles. “You stay here.”
Monica leans over when she stands up.
“Whoa.”
“Can you make it, lightweight?” I tease.
“I got it. The bathroom is … over there!”
My phone rings a few moments later.
It’s him.
I think about just letting it ring, but a small part of my brain is still functioning with a little common sense. I still work for him for a few more weeks. I have to answer. I always answer.
