“But now John’s hurt, thinking you threw him over for Other-John,” Fern said softly.
“Because I think your John has feelings for you, too,” Monica said just as softly.
“Oh. Wow. That’s…” Despite all the fantasies I’d had about John, that was one dream I’d never dreamed. It would have been too soul-crushing to wake up from it.
I swallowed hard and set down my empty glass on the floor beside the couch. I stood up and, strangely, felt a little wobbly. “John still should have talked to me and not assumed.”
Fern nodded. Both of her. I blinked to clear my vision.
“So I’m gonna kish… I mean,kick, his ass.”
“You should,” Monica agreed happily. “Go find him and do that.”
I frowned. “But I don’t know where he is.”
Fern rolled his eyes. “Your John is a creature of habit. You know exactly where he’ll be.”
There was a commotion at the door, and then Mrs. Graziella from downstairs bustled in, carrying a delicious-smelling lasagna and looking put out. “Good Lord. Sorry I’m late, girls. Dante wouldn’t let me leave until he’d shown me a car video on the YouTubes.” She sighed as she put her casserole dish on the kitchen counter. “But I’m here! So let’s figure out a plan to help… Teagan!” she exclaimed, noticing me for the first time.
“You’re late, Mrs. G.,” Monica said. “We’ve already gottenthrough the mischief, and Teagan’s drunk most of the margaritas, and now we’re at the point where Teagan is ready to confess his undying love to John. Tonight.”
“Wait.” I paused, and the room swayed, so I steadied myself with a hand on Fern’s head. “I am?”
“You are,” Fern confirmed, slapping my hand away. “You’re heading to BarZ.”
“Because your John isyourJohn,” Monica said firmly. “And he needs to know that you don’t want any others.”
“Oh.” When she put it like that, it suddenly made so much sense. “Yes, he hecking does! It is right and just! I should write him a poem. Or, like, an original song!”
“Maybe not a song, sweetie.” Monica wrinkled her nose.
Fern grimaced. “Definitely not a song.”
“Oooh, my granddaughter Nicki works at BarZ!” Mrs. Graziella exclaimed. “Hang on half a sec.”
Mrs. Graziella removed an enormous phone from her bra and tapped on it with bejeweled fingernails. “Nickiisworking tonight, and she confirms Johnisat the bar.”
“Ha! It’s a sign,” Monica crowed.
Mrs. Graziella pursed her lips. “She also says John’s flirting with a cute guy who’s been buying him gin and tonics.” She looked up at me. “She thinks he’s from out of town.”
“The fuck you say!” I exclaimed, a little too loudly. I pulled at my hair band, releasing it from its topknot.
“Easy, killer,” Fern began. “We don’t know for sure?—”
“How dare he be flirting with some imported interloper on the night when I am to sing the song of my undying love to him!” I yelled. “This is outrageous. I am marching down there?—”
I took a wobbly step away from the couch, and Mrs. Graziella grabbed my elbow to steady me. “Or maybe you’ll catch a taxi,” she suggested.
“—and I am taking what is mine.John is mine.”
“Sweet Jesus.” Fern sighed and rolled her eyes. “Maybe don’t lead with that line, m’kay?”
Monica grabbed my shoulders and drew me into an impulsive hug. “Don’t listen to a word she says,” she whispered. “You shoulddefinitelylead with that.”
It tookme a little longer than I would have liked to get to the bar, since Fern had pointed out that I was wearing boxer shorts and fuzzy socks, and this attire might be frowned upon, even at a casual spot like our local hangout. By the time they’d sent me on my way in a pair of tight jeans and my favorite blue crop top, I was already sober again.
Well, okay, more like sober-ish.
