“I don’t,” Jake said flatly, then reconsidered. “I guess there’s a thing with the radio station I’m down here for. They’re auditioning women at a bar tomorrow to be station ambassadors.” The words were out before he could call them back.
Milo perked right up. “Sexystation ambassadors?”
“That’s the idea, yes,” Jake reluctantly confirmed.
Milo grinned. “There’s our plan then. You’re working for the station, so you have some say in the auditions, right? And I’m obviously qualified to be an auxiliary judge. So we kick around here tonight, then tomorrow you give me the five-minute tour of whatever passes for scenery around here, we eat a solid dinner primarily composed of red meats and cheeses, and then we drink our faces off with the pretty ladies of Beautiful Cow. I like it. Who else should we call to join?”
Leave it to Milo to orchestrate a night out in a town he’d never visited before. “The only one I can think of is Robbie, the new station receptionist. I think you two’ll get along.”
“Call him. Let’s do this,” Milo commanded.
As Jake tapped out a message to Robbie, he assured himself that he wouldn’t bump into Mabel tomorrow since she’d undoubtedly be steering clear of the Brick Babe auditions. Plus he was taking concrete steps to help her, and he had the promise of a night out with friends. His weekend suddenly looked a tiny bit less bleak.
Twenty-Three
“Hello!” Mabel called out as she let herself into Dave and Ana’s house. “I’m here for the lasagna!”
“In the kitchen, Garfield!” Ana called back.
After almost a decade of spending every morning with Dave, it was weird having to schedule a dinner in order to hang out. At least Ana knew how to capital-cCook, and spending time with their two adorable kids always made her count her blessings—her “blessings” in this case being her diaper-less, LEGO-free home.
She strolled into the kitchen, brandishing a bottle of Ana’s favorite shiraz and nearly swooned at the scent of tomatoes, garlic, and oregano. “I hope you’re prepared to feed me until I’m dead.”
“I wouldn’t have invited you if I wasn’t,” Ana said.
Her friend looked far more collected than a woman toiling away at the stove should. Not a strand of her shiny black hair was mussed, and she wasn’t covered in sauce or flour or any visual indicators of kitchen endeavors. At this point in dinner-party prep, Mabel was generally sweaty, cursing, and covered in at least five different ingredients.
“Grab a tomato and help Aiden with the salad stuff,” Ana instructed.
The drummer for the Moo Daddies looked up from where he was slicing a cucumber and cheerfully waved his knife at her. “Miss Mae. How’s tricks?”
Mabel grinned. “Well, hey, Adonis! I had no idea you were so handy in the kitchen.”
The sharp blades of Aiden’s cheekbones turned pink. “Come on, you’ve gotta stop calling me that. I will get so much shit if that catches on with the rest of the band.”
Ana looked up from where she was layering the lasagna to chide him. “Language! And Adonis, you must admit that you’re a beautiful man. Let us womenfolk gaze upon you without any backtalk.”
She and Mabel both stopped what they were doing to moonily stare at Aiden until he was red all the way to the tips of his ears and the two women couldn’t contain their laughter any longer. He shook his head and kept slicing.
“Where are Thing One and Thing Two?” Mabel asked as she started on the tomato. “I was hoping to get in a little auntie time tonight.”
Ana held out a glass of wine, which Mabel accepted.
“Dave’s putting them to bed. If we’re very lucky, they’ll sleep through the evening so we can speak as adults.”
“I work in a radio station. I’m deprived of adult talk,” Mabel said. “Tell me things about the world where actual grown-up people work.”
“My job is nothing but staff meetings these days,” Ana said. “Aiden?”
“Don’t look at me.” He shrugged. “I work with incredibly competent craftsmen, but the one thing we don’t do is have deep, meaningful conversations. Mostly we grunt about who took the ladder and what radio station to listen to for the day.”
Mabel gasped and dropped her tomato. “You don’t automatically tune to the Brick?” She and Ana hit him with a double dose of stink eye until he raised his hands to ward them off.
“When it’s my turn to pick, of course! But other dudes have musical preferences too.”
“Adonis, your father owns the construction company. You can be a little prince and demand it,” Mabel reminded him.
He pointed the knife at her. “Just for that, I’m switching over to the Top 40 station next week.”
