Page 43 of Hash

“What?” Frankie yells back. Her voice is growing nearer as she walks toward the back room.

“Guess who just texted me?”

“I’m going to guess Hash since the finance guy doesn’t have your number yet, which I need to do before Saturday, by the way. Don’t let me forget.” She points at me.

“Fine, but if I have to end up blocking him because he’s a complete creep, you owe me tacos.”

“Done. Now spill.”

“Hash texted and asked if we could move it to Sunday? Isn’t that fucking weird? You don’t think he bugged the place, do you?” I ask as I look around again, trying to see if I can spot any sort of little camera or microphone.

“First of all, if a man like Hash bugged the place and heard you had a date, his ass would be all up in here losing it, not moving the plans he made with you around so you can go date another guy.”

I lean my head to the side as I think about it.

That’s true. Hash would lose his shit, which is why he can’t find out about this.

“Second.” Frankie pulls a second finger back. “This is the universe telling you to go on this date! The stars are aligning!”

“Yeah, but it seems like it’s almost happening a little too easily.” And nothing in my life ever works out like this.

“Or have you thought about the fact that it’s finally your time to be happy?”

“No.” I laugh. “That would be too easy.”

I moved the bouncer into my room so Cormac can play as I search through my clothes.

I can’t figure out if everything I’ve ever owned has always looked like shit or if my style has changed over the last couple of years.

“What about this little black number? You can’t go wrong with a little black dress,” Frankie says as she holds up the dress I wore for my 30th birthday.

“You can if it doesn’t fit anymore. If I even think about moving my shoulders or arms, a nipple will pop out. And that’s not sexy. At a nightclub maybe, but definitely not Bella Vita.”

I’m screwed.

Frankie cringes. “Yeah, that shit isn’t cute in your thirties.”

“I don’t think I have anything,” I declare with my hands on my hips as I stare at all the dresses scattered across my bed.

“It doesn’t have to be a dress. What about these leather leggings with your off the shoulder knit sweater?”

“Do you think that’s dressy enough?” I ask, sounding doubtful.

Now I’m remembering why I never dated. It’s so much work, and for what? Probably an awkward time that has a ten percent chance of actually being something? Hard pass.

“If we accessorize it right. The right jewelry and shoes can take an outfit from day to night like that!” Frankie snaps her fingers.

“I think you’re more excited about this than I am,” I say, unconvinced.

“Try it on,” Frankie demands as she ignores me and shoves the outfit she listed off in my face.

I take it and move into the bathroom.

I have a feeling this is the only way I’ll get her to shut up about it.

“I just gave him your number!” Frankie calls from the bedroom.

Ugh.