“Thanks, Joel.” I traded the empty glass for the full one. “What’s his problem, anyway?”
Lina snorted and sipped again. “What’s anyone’s problem? Baggage. People meet, sparks fly, then they spend all their time trying to hide who they really are so they can stay attractive. Then we’re surprised when it doesn’t work out.”
She had a point.
“If everyone just introduced themselves with their baggage, imagine how much time we’d save. Hi, I’m Lina. I have daddy issues and a jealous streak combined with a temper that means you should never cross me. Also, I’ve been known to eat an entire tray of brownies in one sitting and I never fold laundry.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Your turn,” she said.
“Hi, Lina. I’m Naomi and I keep falling for guys who don’t see a future with me. But I keep hoping the future I’m envisioning for the both of us will be good enough to keep them around. Also, I hate my twin sister, and it makes me feel like a bad person. Oh, and Knox Morgan ruined orgasms for me for the rest of my life.”
It was Lina’s turn to laugh. Another scotch appeared in front of her. “This guy knows what’s up,” she said, pointing to our bartender friend.
“Two ladies come into this place talking about the same man, and Imma keep the drinks coming,” he assured us.
“Joel, you’re a true gentleman,” Lina said.
The front door burst open, and Sloane appeared. She was makeup-free and wearing knockoff Uggs, leggings, and an oversize Virginia Tech football jersey. Her hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder.
“You must be the new trollop,” Sloane said.
“And you must be the cavalry coming to save Princess Naomi from the She Beast,” Lina guessed.
I snorted into my wine. “Sloane, this is Lina. Lina is the original Knox ex-girlfriend. Sloane is an overprotective librarian with great hair.” I pointed down the bar. “And that’s Joel our silver fox bartender.”
Sloane took the stool next to me, and before her butt had gotten comfortable, Joel appeared. “You date the same guy too?” he asked.
She rested her chin in her hand. “No, Joel, I did not. I’m just here for moral support.”
“You wanna drink while you morally support?”
“Sure do. How’s your Bloody Mary?”
“Spicy as fuck.”
“I’ll take a Bloody Mary and a round of Fireball.”
Joel saluted and wandered off to make the drinks.
One of the men at the pool table closest to us ambled over. He had impressive spikes on the shoulders of his vest and a Fu Manchu to write home about. “Buy you bitches a drink?”
We swiveled on our stools as one.
“No, thank you,” I said.
“Fuck off,” Lina replied with a mean smile.
“If you think referring to us as ‘bitches’ is going to get you invited into the conversation, let alone one of our beds, you’re about to be deeply disappointed,” Sloane said.
“Move along, Reaper,” Joel told him without looking up from the quart of vodka he was pouring into Sloane’s glass.
My phone buzzed on the bar, and I glanced down.
Knox: That wasn’t what it looked like. I’m not seeing Lina.
Knox: Not that it’s any of your business.