“Or given you a disease,” Suzanne adds. “You know how those sailors are.”
I throw my head into my palm at the realization my blabbermouth sister told all of Cedar Ridge about my Italian rendezvous. At least they don’t have their facts straight.
“Are you kidding me? I saw his photo. I would have fucked him up and down the coast and then some. Use me, please, Mr. Asher!” No sooner are the words out of Jessica’s mouth than my head pops up, my eyes dart out of my head, and my stomach drops so low I may never be able to retrieve it.
“Asher?” Crystal asks and Lisa immediately follows with a similar look of confusion.
My head slowly rotates toward the girls and I’m met with looks of exasperation. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Leah raises her hand. At first, I think she’s about to vomit and I’m quickly realizing she is . . . with words. “I should have known better when I saw him going at it. It was so damn hot. I was like, damn, there’s a man who knows how to work a woman. That’s what my sister needs!” Leah says, pointing her finger out into the open air like she’s making a monumental statement.
I have no idea what she is talking about. But Leah continues her tirade. “He had a body like Abercrombie but, like, way nicer. He was Kama Sutra all over that boat.”
Her words are sloppy but I’ve heard her say them before. She told me this about someone once. My body goes rigid as I think about what Leah is saying.
Or is it what she’s not saying that has me worried?
When we were in Italy, we saw a man and a woman having sex on Asher’s boat. Leah watched them long after I went to sleep. When I thought the boat was Devon’s, I assumed he was also the man we saw having sex on the boat. Leah said it wasn’t.
“Are you saying the man you saw having sex on the yacht, the day we arrived in Italy—Leah, did you know that was Asher?” I ask, even though I should be shutting this conversation down. My words are very controlled for being a mix of nerves and hurt.
“Of course not, of course not.” Leah waves me off. “Neither of us knew who he was. We’d never heard of him.”
I sink back into my seat, relieved my sister hadn’t handed me over willingly to someone she knew was lying.
“But when I saw him in person, I knew the guy giving us a tour was the same one giving some bow-chica-wow-wow,” Leah says with a thrusting motion, then continues, with the finger pointing in the air like she’s making a declaration. “And I said to myself, ‘Self, there is a hot as hell man here who only has eyes for your sister. And she’s been so sad. She needs something to help her forget how sad she is. Even if it’s just a flirt or maybe a little something else . . . she needs to feel beautiful. And this guy . . . this guy is going to do it for her.’ But did he fix her? Noooooo. He used her. And, therefore, he will forever be known as the Asshole.” Leah falls back into her cushion.
The Ohio girls are all shaking their heads, pissed for me that I was used. It’s not until Kimberly looks at me with pity in her eyes that I nearly lose it.
“You’re telling me that instead of warning me that he could be a player, you made it so I was trapped with him?”
“Uh-huh,” Leah says, her eyes starting to slope down a bit.
“And when he asked me on a date, you didn’t think it was important to tell me about the connection? You didn’t think I might get used or, more importantly, get my heart broken?”
“Emm-hmmm” is all Leah can muster.
Now I understand why Leah was so upset when we learned who Asher really was. She wasn’t upset for me. She was upset at herself.
I don’t know if I actually believe what is happening right now. I have a right to be royally pissed, right? I’m not overreacting. Am I?