I close my eyes for a long moment, gearing up to say the most pussy-whipped thing I’ve ever said about a woman in my entire life. “I felt like I wasreunitingwith Samantha rather than meeting her for the first time. I felt like she was my long-lost love from another life.”
Kat’s face morphs into an expression of pure compassion. “Wow.” She pauses. “Thatdoessound like something Dax would say.” She hastily pulls out her phone. “In fact, I’m gonna text that little gem to Daxy right now. Fifty bucks says it goes straight into his next song.”
“I’m not taking that bet. I’m done betting on anything ever again.”
Kat begins tapping out her text.
“Make sure to tell him to thank me when he wins the Grammy for Best Song.”
“Goes without saying.”
Jonas’ voice wafts through the air, drawing my attention to the game being played across the room. “Eight ball off the rail, ricochet off the two and into the side pocket.”
“This, I gotta see,” I murmur. I stand to watch Jonas take his complicated shot, just in time to see him sink it. It’s a feat that prompts Jonas’ new wife to throw her arms around his victorious neck and pepper his entire face with kisses.
“I hate playing against you, Jonas,” Josh grumbles, followed by a long string of expletives.
“Then stop playing against me,” Jonas shoots back.
“So, hey, Ryan,” Kat says.
I look down at her in her lounge chair.
“Am I forgiven or are paybacks gonna be a bitch?”
I pat her head. “There’s nothing to forgive, Jizz Master Flash,” I say. “Like I said, I’m the one who fucked up tonight. I have no one to blame for the fiasco of tonight but myself.”
“Hey, Ryan, you want next game?” Josh asks from across the room. “Hopefully, you’ll have more luck beating Jonas than I just had.”
“Nah,” I say. “I’ll just watch the slaughter from here.” I sit back down in my chair. “I’m too busy wallowing in self-pity to concentrate on pool.”
“So tell us the rest of the story, Ryan,” Sarah says. “You never told us what happened after Samantha bolted.”
“Nothing. That’s what’s causing my soul-searing pain. Samantha bolted when Olivia started calling me a ‘cheater’ and Samantha a ‘cunt,’ and by the time I made it outside after ever-so-politely telling Olivia to please fuck off, Samantha and her friend were already gone.” I swig my drink. “And you wanna hear the cherry on top of the shit-show-sundae? I never got Samantha’s phone number or last name, which means this incredible woman is out there somewhere, this woman I could totally imagine being the mother of my future babies, and she’s thinking I’m a lying, cheating scumbag-asshole, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”
Everyone expresses some variation of sympathy for my situation.
“Hmm,” Sarah says, her brow furrowed. But she doesn’t continue.
“Oh, Sarah Cruz,” Josh says. “I know that ‘hmm.’ Are you thinking smart-girl thoughts over there?”
“Maybe,” Sarah replies. She addresses me. “Did Samantha pay for her own drinks tonight, by any chance?”
I look at her quizzically. “No, I paid.”
“Dang it. Well, I mean, I’m glad you’re a chivalrous guy and all, but in this one instance, it would have been helpful if you were a cheap bastard. I was just thinking if Samantha had used her credit card to pay for a drink, maybe you could go down to The Pine Box and sweet-talk the bartender into telling you her last name from her credit card receipt.”
“Boom,” Josh says. “And that’s why we call her SarahFuckingCruz.”
“First time in my life I’m bummed not to be a cheap bastard,” I mutter.
“I like the way you’re thinking, though,” Jonas says to Sarah. “Maybe you’re onto something.”
“Probably not,” Sarah says, waving at the air dismissively. “Odds are high the bartender wouldn’t have given Ryan her last name, anyway—in this day and age, there’s too big a risk Ryan might turn out to be some kind of stalker-creeper.”
“Yeah, but let’s keep going with this line of thinking,” Jonas says. “Let’s help Ryan find her.” He looks pointedly at his brother. “Josh, why not bring in the big guns to help a brother out?”
At that, Sarah and Kat erupt with enthusiasm for Jonas’ idea, whatever it is.
