Just the guys? Just the guys? No, that was not okay. Why? So all the desperate women could give them congratulatory body rubs? “Oh, yeah, of course,” I said, feeling more than a little deflated.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. Far be it from me to get in the way of your male bonding.” As long as it didn’t turn into female bonding.
“See ya after, at home. Thanks for coming to watch. And G?”
Even though my stomach twisted, I still answered, “Yeah?”
“Wear that jersey to bed. Only that jersey.”
His words were meant to be sexy. All I felt was mildly to moderately ill. “Okay. Bye, Beau.”
Then I hung up.
I felt like crying. And truth be told, if I was at home, I’d be crying into a huge Coffee Crisp bar.
Instead, I had an hour drive to get back home before I could let loose.
Three-fourteen in the morning.That was when he came stumbling through the door. Actually, that was when he and Trey came stumbling through the door. Laughing, drunk, and high on life.
“Gee,” Trey said, as he helped an overly impaired Beau to the couch. “You missed a great party.” Beau crashed on the cushions, still laughing.
“I see that,” I said, looking them both over. Trey’s shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. And what looked like—yeah, red lipstick—oh, and at least two shades of pink—on the collar.
Next, my gaze shot to Beau as my stomach began to roil. Yeah. Same shades of lipstick not only on his collar, but also on his neck and face.
I’d never felt so sick before.
“How’re my doggies?” Trey said, stumbling over to where the puppies were currently sleeping.
“Leave,” I said in a stern voice. It came out harsher than I’d intended. Not that I cared.
Trey looked over at me, his movements jerky and exaggerated. “What’s up? Uncle Trey just wants to say a hello to his puppies.”
“You’re not welcome here anymore. Please, leave,” I said, more controlled, even though I’d wanted to say worse.
“Come on, G, don’t be such a killjoy,” he said, holding onto the back of a chair for support.
“Geneviève, what will it hurt if he stays for one more drink?” Beau slurred in a disgustingly drunk voice.
That was when I completely lost it. “Get the fuck out of my apartment! Are you deaf? I said, leave,” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I stomped toward the door. I swung it open. Trey stood there, dumbfounded.
“I call the cops in exactly ten seconds. Your choice, asshole,” I muttered, trying my best to dial down the rage I felt deep inside.
He looked back at Beau. “Go, man. We’ll talk tomorrow,” Beau said, the only smart decision he’d apparently made in the last five hours.
Trey nodded, then proceeded to the door. “G, look, I—we—”
“Get—the—fuck—out!” I hollered so loud he took a step back. His face sobered enough to register not only shock, but real regret.
I could not have cared less.
He finally walked out.
I slammed the door harder than I’d ever slammed one before.
“Geneviève, I—”