Turning to smile at Beau, I motioned with my eyes for her to move over to the side of the bar away from Chris. The bar was shaped like a horseshoe with him sitting on the top section of it, and I wanted her to move to the side far away from him. When Carly walked up though, Beau grinned at me and shook her head.
“Well, well. If that isn’t the face of a woman who’s been banging her brains out, I don’t know what is,” she snorted, knowing full well she was poking the bear.
How is this my life?
“Ugh, what a slut,” Carly sneered, leaning into Chris’s side and almost falling when he leaned away from her.
“You won’t know what that feels like, sweetie,” Beau replied. “Seeing as how you bang everything, they never have to put any effort into making you come, do they?”
“Fuck you, Silver,” Carly hissed back. “Your mama gave you and your sister stripper names for a reason, maybe take the fucking hint and go do that.”
I froze, anger starting to take over. Both Beau and Vivi had been the target of a lot of shit for their names and the fact that it was Carly saying that? God no.
Before I could answer, Beau snorted and rolled her eyes. “Nah, she gave them to us because she didn’t want to give us common ones,” she told her, stressing the word common as she looked the woman up and down, leaving her in no doubt what she meant.
“I will tear your face off and shove it up your ass,” Carly growled, raising her hand.
“Do that, and I’ll bar you,” I warned, getting an irritated look from Beau who hadn’t wanted me involved in the argument. She was fiercely protective, and I loved her for it, but seriously?
At that moment, the ugliest smirk took over Carly’s face (and that was saying something). “Mmm, Lily James. I see you’re getting fat,” she sneered looking me up and down and then pointedly looking at my stomach.
My eyes almost got stuck in the back of my head when I rolled them. Jesus Christ this woman was a cliché!
Sighing, I leaned on the top of the bar, resting my chin on my hand. “Yup, you caught me, Carly. One too many burgers, waffles and Babe Ruth bars.”
Seeing she hadn’t upset me, she went in for what she probably thought was the kill. “And how’s your baby daddy? Hmm? Doing good is he?”
Lifting up so I was standing straight, I shrugged and made a point of rubbing my bump. “Nah, not so much. He was looking absolutely exhausted when I saw him earlier today, and his text an hour ago said he was dragging ass.” When her eyes lit up, I pressed forward. “If he didn’t insist on loving me every hour, he might be ok. Then again,” I added, looking to the side thoughtfully, “he owes me a new bed seeing as how he broke mine this morning.”
It was petty, I was lowering myself to her level, it was the cliché I’d just accused her of being, but fucking seriously – I was a pregnant woman and my hormones were in control. Normally, I’d have walked away and flipped her the bird, but she’d just insulted my best friend, and she’d called me fat before bringing Tate into it. I would have ignored the fat jibe, but he was a good man and Beau was a beautiful person, that’s why I sank down to her levels.
I was fighting a cliché with a cliché, and to those who judged, let them stand in my shoes while they were having to adjust to wearing jeans with an extendable elasticized waist because their stomach had outgrown their normal ones while someone attacked the people they loved. So clichés be damned!
For a second, it looked like she was going to try to slap me across the bar, but then she grinned and slowly reached into her purse. For a second, images of her pulling out a gun or something flashed through my head, but instead she pulled out her cell and opened it up. “Funny thing, on Thursday night I met my friend for a drink at Ringo’s. You might have been there seeing as how you own a dive bar and it’s more upper class, but you’ve probably heard of it. Anyway, while we there, in walked Tate and his family, and we had a great time together. You know, drinking, laughing, having fun, and shit like that.” Placing the cell onto the bar in front of me, she pushed it over with the tip of a nail.
For a moment, all I could do was look at the nails in question. They were those long ones with the pointed end that looked like something one of the baddies in a Disney cartoon would have.