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“He’s supposed to be working,” I say, perplexed. This could be work. But why not tell me he was out?
“Bust him. Text him. See what he says.” I’d like to think I’m better than Bumble Dean’s Maury Povich idea, but I’m not.
Nanette says, “Don’t do that. If he lies to you, you have to sit here and watch. Just ask him later. Let’s leave or go over there.”
“I’ll text him something stupid, and we’ll both laugh.” Might be fun to get dirty in public. Roleplay a hookup or something.
“Dean, get more drinks,” I command.
“Who’s got cash?”
Nanette rolls her eyes.
“He’s a winner.” I hand him $100. Dean blocks my view of Alex. He seems hammered like this isn’t his first stop.
“Don’t do this,” Nanette pleads.
I squeeze her hand. “I’ll text Mikey.”
TESS: Are you at the office? Are there sponsors in town?
MIKEY: No. Ari’s here. What up?
TESS: Never mind. Sorry to be a nuisance.
MIKEY: Totally fine, Distraction. Call me later.
Nanette scrolls her phone, and my fingers are shaking from the overload of adrenaline. Why didn’t he text he was going out? Was he afraid I’d want to go? Also, if you’re hiding, why come to a bar walking distance to your home? He’s not hiding. He can’t be. At least go to the other end of Abbot Kinney. He’s worked late a lot over the past month. Does he go out drinking to get away from me? I’m going down a hole. I totally understand time with your own people, but why not tell me about it?
Bumble Dean shifts. I see Alex hive five a guy and then take a selfie with a scantily clad chick with super big tits. We’ve had lots of things bubbling lately, and we’ve been ignoring them. Shit. Is this how they surface? He’s leaning on the bar facing the door. It would be a stealthy miracle for me to get to the bathroom or out of this building without him seeing me. My phone is slippery from my palms.
TESS: Thinking about you inside of me. I miss the feel of you. xo
I push send as Bumble Dean returns, and I swallow half my cocktail. This will be funny when he sees me. It will all be nothing. Alex pulls his phone out of his pocket, looks at it, puts it back in his pocket, and orders another beer. They didn’t see me text, but Nanette sees my destroyed face.
“I told you that was a bad idea.”
I say aloud, “Wow. That was so much fucking worse than I thought it could be.” I offered him sex, and he ignored me. I’m numb.
Nanette says, “There’s a reason, don’t worry. Sip your cocktail and continue your evening.”
“I’m going to have to do something or start paying rent on this booth. There’s no way out of here. And if I leave after him, I’d have to Ferris Bueller it home through backyards to beat him back to his house. Shit. I should’ve walked over to him.”
“The adult thing to do,” Nanette says.
Bumble Dean says, “Now that we’ve gone another route. What’s next?”
I need hair bleach and some self-tanner to change my appearance to get out of here. Color contacts. Can I call Pink Dot and get all that shit delivered to the bar?
Bumble Dean has more to say, “Here’s what I’d do, text him again, and ask a question. If he does the same thing, I have a plan.”
I really don’t want to sleep here, and I might be drunk because I’m going to take Bumble Dean’s advice. It’s chilly tonight. I’ll ask about blankets. It’s a lie I can live with.
TESS: Sorry to bother you. I’m freezing, are there extra blankets somewhere?
We’re staring at him, and if any of his friends glance over, we’ll be busted. He pulls his phone out, responds to a text, scrolls, and places it face down on the bar. The floor drops out from beneath me. He texted someone else. My heart is actually breaking. I want him to be a government employee on a secret CIA mission, and these guys are assets he’s trying to secure. But after another round of back slaps and high fives, I face reality, they’re just jackasses like him.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Nanette says.
