“Last April,” Tad says. “We met atan event where he was working for another celebrity…”
“Who is that?” Debra interrupts.
“He’s not allowed to say. Confidentialitystuff. We were at one of my friends’ birthday parties, and we started chatting.We exchanged numbers.”
“So did you fuck on the firstdate?” The way Debra says it, effortlessly, without even blushing, isimpressive. Although, she’s never been the kind of girl to blush. She’s the kindof girl who gives zero fucks.
Tad laughs a charming laugh. “No. Wedidn’t actually mess around until…what was it, puddin’?”
He sayspuddin’condescendingly, clearly trying to get at me.
“Was it the fifth date?” Tad asks.
“Yeah, we had dinner at the Howlin New York. Me and my little Nefertiti.”
Tad smirks, though I can tell bythe way his lip twitches that he’s trying to fight it to keep from appearingamused.
“It sounds like you two are mad ateach other right now,” Debra says. “What’s going on? Bryce, did one of you stayout a little too late? Maybe party too hard with one too many cute guys?”
I’m surprised by Debra’s line ofquestioning, though I can tell she’s just staying in character as she launchesher own passive-aggressive attack against us.
“It’s just been a few nights sinceI’ve gotten any, if you know what I mean,” Tad says, “so I’m a little bitter.”
Why would he say this in front ofDebra? What the fuck is wrong with him?
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you toskip a few nights,” I say.
“Here we go again. ’Cause I’m sucha fucking man-whore who sleeps around with everyone. If I’m such a man-whore, Idon’t see what’s keeping me from hopping on Grindr and looking for the firstavailable trick I can find.”
“If that’s what you want to do,then do it.”
“Whatever. Fuck you. I don’t knowwhat the fuck I saw in you. You clearly aren’t different from anyone else I’veever met. You think you fucking know me and have a right to judge me, but youdon’t. You just believe all that shit you’ve read and make your goddamnassumptions about who I am and what I do. And I have enough of that everyfucking day, so if you’re done with me, then you just need to be a man and sayit.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Throughout our fake interviewfight, I’ve lost track of everything. He made me so mad that I even forgotDebra was in the room, and I turn to her to catch her reaction.
She glances between us.
“Okay,” she says, removing herglasses. She relaxes the hand with her glasses on her crossed legs. “Let mestart by defining what I mean bypicking at each other.”
***
“I think this looks sharp on you,” Darren says, holding a long-sleeved,button-up shirt against my chest.
I trust his fashion sense a hellof a lot more than my own, so when Tad brought us to this boutique designershop to try on new outfits, I eagerly allowed him to take responsibility for myinterview look.
Tad steps out of the changing roomand assesses himself in a rectangular mirror on the opposite wall. He spinsaround, tossing his head either way to look over his shoulders, his long blondbangs shifting with the movement. He looks great in the salmon-coloredbutton-up, but he doesn’t look satisfied with it.
“It’ll need to be hemmed,” he saysto the female shopping associate who’s been assisting him since we arrived.He’s tried on at least a dozen shirts and pants. It’s a more irritating side ofhim. Has he always been like this? Was I blind to it because we were fucking?Or is he hamming it up just to grate on my nerves?
“What do you boys think?” he asks,though he’s looking at Darren, not me.
“That looks great,” Darren says.“I love it.”
“It’s not really me,” Tad says. Heheads back into the changing room.
Darren hands me a stack of shirtsto try on, and we go through several. As I step out of the changing room, Inotice he’s holding a powder-blue button-up, eyeing it with interest.
