“What are you scowling about?” he says.
“Nothing,” I say.
“You haven’t laughed at a single joke.”
I gesture at the stage. “That dude isn’t funny.”
“Why the shitty mood?” Now he’s the one scowling. “I thought the comedy club would cheer you up.”
“I’m fucking cheery, all right? Look.” I point at the new drink that just landed in front of me.
He leans closer. “You still hung up on that girl? Snickers?”
“Skittles,” I say dryly, opting not to mention the Parental Unit drama because he’s probably just as sick of it as I am.
I already told Nate what happened with Skittles…minus the fifty-dollar part. I don’t need my best friend giving me shit for the rest of my life. He’d probably put it on my gravestone.
“Snickers is better,” he says. “It’s got peanuts.”
“Unlike you, I don’t date nuts.”
“You should. They’re crazy in bed.”
“So is Skittles. She screamed like Chewbacca getting his legs waxed.”
Nate laughs. “You sure they weren’t screams of disappointment?”
“She was sleeping with me, not you.” But my heart isn’t in the banter. I down my drink. The liquor heats my insides…and the irritation simmering in my gut. TJ said he’d find the girl for me. I’m entitled to a follow-up.
I stand up and pull out my phone to text him. But before I can send anything, someone with arms like a squid wraps herself around me.
“Court!”
Ah, crap. You can’t mistake that voice—it’s perkier than a chipmunk on helium. Freakin’ Tiffany. My ex, whom I parted with amicably, not because I like her, but because I didn’t want to deal with the neediness and drama that would’ve ensued otherwise.
I turn and see the bottle-red hair, the stylish handbag. “I got a second interview with Blackwood Energy!” she squeals. “I’m going out there next week for it!”
“Great!” I say with a fake smile. Maybe she’ll fetch coffee for Dad and leave me alone.
“I told your dad I was a really close friend of yours, and he was so nice to me.”
Ugh. I need another drink.
“He asked me about you! I swear, he said he’d love to hire me to be your assistant. Wouldn’t that be cool?” Her eyes are entirely too shiny. She even flutters her eyelashes.
“It would, but I won’t be there, so maybe you should look for another position.”
“But why, Court? It’ll be great. You can work for your daddy, and I can work for you. You know how hard it is to get a job?”
“I can guess.” She’s proof that God is fair. He gave her the body of Jezebel after a stupendous boob job and the intellect of a lobotomized amoeba. I can see why Dad thought she could tempt me, but it’s not going to work. The girl can’t even sneeze without someone’s help, and she treats me like a black AmEx card.
“I gotta go,” I say, and walk away, not caring that I’m being rude. I no longer have any patience for people who only want to use me.
Outside, I text TJ, demanding to know Skittles’ real name.
A few minutes later, he replies. Forget her.
Excuse you, TJ, but I didn’t ask you to advise me on my personal life. Why? I pause for a second, then add, You couldn’t figure out who she is?