“Yeah, they’re awesome.”
She screeches the chorus from Red Card Riot’s monster rock hit, “Shaynee.”
“Great song,” I say.
“Have you met them?” she asks.
“No, the guys in the band didn’t come out with us in New York. I think they had some groupies to ‘meet and greet.’”
“I’m sure they did. They’re huge right now—your friend Reed must be thrilled.”
“Yeah. He’s always had quite the knack for spotting talent. A bit of a Midas touch.”
She takes a sip of her drink and then levels me with an unflinching gaze. “So do you plan to see her again?”
“Okay, here we go.”
“I told you I’d get to it.”
“And you did.”
She pauses. “So do you plan to see her?”
“No.” I snort. “Never. Like I said. It was completely meaningless.”
She chews the inside of her mouth.
“Do you plan to see Mr. Baseball again?” I ask, my heart pounding.
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“He wants to seeyouagain, though, right?”
She nods.
“You’re not gonna say yes when he asks?”
“He’s already asked twice. And I’ve already said no both times.” She presses her lips together. “I told him very clearly it wasn’t gonna work out. I was nice about it, but clear.”
I make a caveman sound.
“What does that grunt mean?”
“It means I’m plotting his murder in my head.”
“Why? He didn’t do anything wrong.”
I grunt again.
She smiles. “You’rejealous?”
“Of course, I’m jealous. Fuck yeah, I am.”
“But I just told you I’m not gonna see him again.”
