Rude.
But technically accurate, and I would’ve probably been a reasonable twenty as opposed to my own mother’s sixteen.
Mortification threatened to fell me, but if I could discover my partner’s infidelity by touching a stranger’s boob and walk out of my own bedroom with my head held high, then I could handle a prick like Soft Hands.
“Oh, I’m not jealous,” I said as I sauntered back to my stool and then motioned for another Malbec. “I’m sure at least one other person in your vicinity could back me up on the conversation you were having because you, much like your cologne, are loud.”
He stiffened, then turned to face me, his expressions contorting. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“Funny, I was minding my own business, but your disgusting phone call made it very ... challenging. Then you made me a part of your business when you singled me out just now.”
He blinked twice as if surprised I had the ovarian fortitude to give as good as I got. Finally, he said through his teeth, “Well, it’s not too late to butt out.”
I looked at my watch, then back up at him. “Hmm. I think we’ve used at least ten of your fifty minutes, so you might want to head on over to your buddy’s house for the game.”
He started, his eyes widening at the proof I’d overheard his conversation. My presence hadn’t registered for him earlier. It had been as though I was invisible, and I guess I was to him.
“Speaking of,” I said, before taking a sip of the wine Havisham placed in front of me, “I think your future calculations should probably include more foreplay. Maybe some cuddling afterward. Or do you reserve that behavior just for Chelsea?”
If his face got any redder, he might explode. He looked from my bathroom buddy to me and then got up from the bar muttering, “Saggy-ass bitch.”
He made it all the way to the door before Havisham growled, “Stop. You haven’t paid your bill.”
“I’ll take care of that,” my new friend said sweetly, her voice echoing through the still-stunned bar. “I wouldn’t want to owe him one single thing. Oh, and Tanner?”
He turned, his eyes hopeful.
“I was born at Kennestone. I’m just as American as you are.”
He took a step backward, stumbled, and then turned to rush out of the bar. I faced Daisy as she jabbed a thumb in my direction. “I’ll pay for her drink, too. It’s the least I can do.”
“Well, thanks,” I said as I extended my hand. “I’m Stella Stark.”
“Daisy Salcedo,” my bathroom buddy said as she shook my hand.
“Salcedo, what do you want to drink?” Havisham asked.
“Uh, I’ll have a Strongbow.” She turned to me. “Does she call everyone by their last names?”
“Only the people she likes.”
We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. I told myself not to let the man-child’s insults get to me, but they were a little too close to some of the things Ken had said. He’d told me I was getting too old for the honey-trap cases, that no guy would want to cheat with me. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time because I didn’t like those sorts of cases, the ones where women—or usually some well-meaning family member—wanted to see if a man would hit on another woman or be susceptible to her charms.
Don’t get me wrong, it was fun to flirt, and sometimes I got to wear a tiny button camera, but it always felt pretty sleazy, and no one was ever happy with the results either way.
“You know,” Salcedo said, “you’re pretty good at putting people in their place.”
“Thanks. Too bad I can’t make a career out of it, because I could use the money.”
Chapter 4
A week later, movers left me with the chemical scent of new carpet mixed with the mustiness of an old building under new paint and the oppressive beige of my new apartment. After months of squatting in my nana’s basement, I’d finally saved up enough money for my own place. I surveyed my domain: a tiny table with four mismatched chairs, a love seat Nana didn’t want anymore, and a coffee table as scarred as my heart.
I walked down the hall to the main bedroom, where the movers had set up the double bed and dresser from my childhood. A glance into the closet, and I realized I’d used only one side of the closet for my clothes, as if waiting for Ken to use the other one.
Well, that simply wouldn’t do.
I moved a few of my blouses and dresses to the other side of the closet. One of the perks of being single had to be taking up as much space as I wanted to.
