out.
“Didn’t remember me,” I say.
“How do you know?” Jill asks, scanning the phone book.
“He said, ‘Nice to meet you,’ ” I say.
“So?” Jill says.
“Tonight. He said that tonight,” I say.
“That’d be the first clue,” Lisa says.
“Not for nothing, but I was playing the odds. And you? We haven’t seen or heard from you in days,” Jill says to Lisa as she dials the phone.
Lisa just smiles.
Jill doesn’t miss a beat. “I need details, pictures if you’ve got them, video would be better. Let’s just . . . you know what? I’m just going to, I need you to show me on this cucumber—oh, hello? Yes, I’d like to order some pizzas?”
“A part of me intentionally kept it from her just to see her squirm,” Lisa says, taking another swig from her beer. I smile.
“You can go fuck yourself—oh, no, not you, sir, I mean, no, you’re lovely, I was talking to my friend,” Jill says into the phone.
“He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” Lisa says, gazing at Grady. I smile; shit, I’m almost teary eyed. Lisa continues. “I honestly never thought I’d be this happy.”
“I love that,” I say with a wide smile. Once again, I’m moderately intimidated by Lisa and what I want to do is ooze all over her, hugging her and cuddling her up against my face like a puppy on Christmas morning. I imagine that would result in my getting shivved, so I decide on the breezy “I love that.”
“No, no delivery. We’ll come pick them up,” Jill says, motioning to me to ask if that’s still okay. I nod. It’ll be good to get out of this haunted house of my failed betrothals. Jill signs off with the man I’ll have to apologize profusely to later regarding the “go fuck yourself” incident. She gets right down to business.
“So you guys are dating?!” Jill asks Lisa.
“He’s great—you know, good in the sack, good job—”
“Good in the sack? You’ve slept with him?” Jill asks, horrified.
“Yeah, sure,” Lisa says.
Jill is silent.
Judging.
I crane my neck to see where everyone is. “Everyone” meaning Sam. And kinda Grady. I imagine the next few minutes are going to get a tad messy. They’re both out by the smoker. From the looks of them, their mannerisms going back and forth between stifled laughter, arms tightly crossed across chests and conciliatory pats on Martin’s back, they’re quite involved in what they’re doing. Involved enough not to hear or be a part of what is sure to be a revealing conversation . . . if Jill has anything to do with it.
Jill blurts, “Grady is a southern gentleman! How could you sleep with him so quickly? You’re now the . . . you’re now the girl he—”
“A southern gentleman? Jesus, he is actually from this century,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. I pop a grape in my mouth from a platter yet to be set out.
“They do things differently down there. It’s very clear who they . . . you just shouldn’t have—”
Lisa cuts in. “He wasn’t a southern gentleman when we had sex in the alleyway right outside of Lucky Baldwin’s.”
“Had sex? Are you—”
“You’re so busy defending his honor that you’ve forgotten it takes two,” Lisa says, opening the fridge for another beer.
“Yeah, but he’s not . . . he doesn’t . . .”
“ Jill . . . ,” I say.
“But now you’re just the girl he has sex with rather than the girl he marries,” Jill says, stepping closer to Lisa. To implore Lisa, beg Lisa. Pray . For . Lisa .
I fear for Jill’s safety in these milliseconds.
“Whether I want to be the girl Grady has sex with or the girl he marries is a choice I get to make, not him. Or do you not know that?” Lisa says, opening up her beer with a bottle opener on her key ring.
“Wait, what?” Jill asks.
“I get to choose what happens next.”
Jill is quiet, her mouth opening and closing like a dying fish’s. She shakes her head every once in a while, with a little huffing sound. Another grape. Another
“Didn’t remember me,” I say.
“How do you know?” Jill asks, scanning the phone book.
“He said, ‘Nice to meet you,’ ” I say.
“So?” Jill says.
“Tonight. He said that tonight,” I say.
“That’d be the first clue,” Lisa says.
“Not for nothing, but I was playing the odds. And you? We haven’t seen or heard from you in days,” Jill says to Lisa as she dials the phone.
Lisa just smiles.
Jill doesn’t miss a beat. “I need details, pictures if you’ve got them, video would be better. Let’s just . . . you know what? I’m just going to, I need you to show me on this cucumber—oh, hello? Yes, I’d like to order some pizzas?”
“A part of me intentionally kept it from her just to see her squirm,” Lisa says, taking another swig from her beer. I smile.
“You can go fuck yourself—oh, no, not you, sir, I mean, no, you’re lovely, I was talking to my friend,” Jill says into the phone.
“He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” Lisa says, gazing at Grady. I smile; shit, I’m almost teary eyed. Lisa continues. “I honestly never thought I’d be this happy.”
“I love that,” I say with a wide smile. Once again, I’m moderately intimidated by Lisa and what I want to do is ooze all over her, hugging her and cuddling her up against my face like a puppy on Christmas morning. I imagine that would result in my getting shivved, so I decide on the breezy “I love that.”
“No, no delivery. We’ll come pick them up,” Jill says, motioning to me to ask if that’s still okay. I nod. It’ll be good to get out of this haunted house of my failed betrothals. Jill signs off with the man I’ll have to apologize profusely to later regarding the “go fuck yourself” incident. She gets right down to business.
“So you guys are dating?!” Jill asks Lisa.
“He’s great—you know, good in the sack, good job—”
“Good in the sack? You’ve slept with him?” Jill asks, horrified.
“Yeah, sure,” Lisa says.
Jill is silent.
Judging.
I crane my neck to see where everyone is. “Everyone” meaning Sam. And kinda Grady. I imagine the next few minutes are going to get a tad messy. They’re both out by the smoker. From the looks of them, their mannerisms going back and forth between stifled laughter, arms tightly crossed across chests and conciliatory pats on Martin’s back, they’re quite involved in what they’re doing. Involved enough not to hear or be a part of what is sure to be a revealing conversation . . . if Jill has anything to do with it.
Jill blurts, “Grady is a southern gentleman! How could you sleep with him so quickly? You’re now the . . . you’re now the girl he—”
“A southern gentleman? Jesus, he is actually from this century,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. I pop a grape in my mouth from a platter yet to be set out.
“They do things differently down there. It’s very clear who they . . . you just shouldn’t have—”
Lisa cuts in. “He wasn’t a southern gentleman when we had sex in the alleyway right outside of Lucky Baldwin’s.”
“Had sex? Are you—”
“You’re so busy defending his honor that you’ve forgotten it takes two,” Lisa says, opening the fridge for another beer.
“Yeah, but he’s not . . . he doesn’t . . .”
“ Jill . . . ,” I say.
“But now you’re just the girl he has sex with rather than the girl he marries,” Jill says, stepping closer to Lisa. To implore Lisa, beg Lisa. Pray . For . Lisa .
I fear for Jill’s safety in these milliseconds.
“Whether I want to be the girl Grady has sex with or the girl he marries is a choice I get to make, not him. Or do you not know that?” Lisa says, opening up her beer with a bottle opener on her key ring.
“Wait, what?” Jill asks.
“I get to choose what happens next.”
Jill is quiet, her mouth opening and closing like a dying fish’s. She shakes her head every once in a while, with a little huffing sound. Another grape. Another
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