All four sat at the dining room table holding cards and placing bids. Avery glanced every now and then over the tops of her cards at Dylan, who sat directly across from her. They were playing Spades, and she was on Mark’s team. Dylan had this weird rule about card playing: couples couldn’t be partners, so Mark was reluctantly paired with Avery while Cadence teamed up with Dylan.
Dylan grinned at Avery, then took a swig of his beer. Cadence watched with amusement. Mark was skeptical of his friend’s intentions. He wouldn’t necessarily call Dylan a player though he went through women like tissues. It was really that no one could meet his ridiculously high standards. Or maybe that was just his excuse to stay uncommitted. He didn’t sleep with all of them. He didn’t sleep with many of them, actually, because they didn’t meet his standards. And he was terrified of STDs.
Mark chuckled.
“What’s funny?” Avery asked. “Please don’t tell me your hand sucks.”
He shook his head. “Nah. We’re winning this round. Just follow my lead.”
“You’re such a cocky asshole when you play cards,” Dylan piped up. “And you’re not even good at it.”
Cadence giggled.
“Mr. Connelly, maybe since I’m spending the night, you can let Cadence and me drink a little.” Avery smiled sweetly.
“Keep calling me ‘Mr. Connelly’ and you can forget about it,” he replied.
“What?” she cried indignantly. “It’s funny. And anyway, you were a teacher at my school. I can’t just call you by your first name. That’s, like, totally disrespectful.”
“I call him by his first name,” Cadence pointed out.
“You’re also fucking him,” Avery said.
“Oh my God, Avery!” Cadence cried.
“What? Just sayin’,” Avery huffed. She winked at Dylan who burst out laughing.
Mark sighed patiently. “Avery, play a card.”
“Oh, it’s my turn?” she asked, reaching for Dylan’s beer. She took a swig and threw down an eight of clubs. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?”
Dylan shook his head. “All yours.”
The double entendre wasn’t lost on Cadence or Mark. They eyed each other, passing the unspoken message, “What do we do now?”
“Do you like your job, Dylan?” Avery asked.
“Of course I do. I own my own business. I’m my own boss,” he said. He breathed in deeply, letting his chest swell, making sure she could see.
Oh, she saw, and she flirted back by biting into her lower lip, pretending that she was concentrating on her next play.
She pouted when Dylan trumped her king of hearts.
“Nothing personal, babe,” he said, pulling the cards towards him.
She finished off his beer. “I’ll get you the next time.”
“Dear God,” Cadence mumbled. “Just get it over with already. But not in our room. Go to the guestroom.”
Avery burst out laughing.
“Cadence!” Mark said.
“Have you not been listening to this conversation?” she asked him.
He opened his mouth to reply when Cadence’s phone rang. Avery’s house phone number showed up.
“Avery! What am I supposed to do?!” Cadence cried.
“Answer it and act like Marybeth.”
“I can’t do that! You know I can’t! I’ll ruin all of it!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Give it to me,” Avery snapped, grabbing Cadence’s cell phone.
“Don’t! Oh my God, just don’t!”
“I’ll take it from here,” Dylan said, calmly plucking the phone from Avery’s hand. He placed his finger over his mouth and pressed the answer key. “This is Marybeth’s phone. May I ask who’s calling?”
Cadence and Avery held their breath.
“This is her father, actually. She left her cell phone downstairs. The girls are upstairs watching a movie. Uh huh. Oh, yes. Hello, Mrs. Fisher. Marybeth told me about you . . .”
Mark listened, intrigued.
“. . . She’s a lovely girl. Mmhmm . . .”
Dylan chuckled at something Mrs. Fisher said. It was so insincere that Avery had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
“. . . I hear you on that one!” Dylan said. “It’s hard to find good influences these days . . .”
Mark rolled his eyes.
“. . . Well, I’m glad you called to check up on her. Sounds great. Okay. Have a splendid night, Mrs. Fisher.”
Dylan hung up and tossed the phone to Cadence.
“Done,” he said. “Who wants another beer?”
Avery stared at him with newfound respect. “Me,” she breathed. “I’d like another.”
“Cadence?” he asked.
“I haven’t had any,” she replied.
Dylan looked at her confused. “Yeah, I’m asking if you want one.”
“Well, you asked who wanted another.”
Mark smirked.
Dylan thought for a moment. “Look it. Do you want a beer or not?”
Cadence automatically looked at Mark. Avery saw and pounced on it.
“What? You need Mr. Connelly’s permission to drink?”
“No.” Cadence bristled. She didn’t think she was asking permission. She thought it had more to do with Gracie and her vague recollection of the frat party. Gracie said it was her choice, but Cadence didn’t believe her. Everything about that night was wrong, and she never wanted to feel that vulnerable again when she drank. She realized right then that it wasn’t a matter of asking for permission to drink. She was asking Mark, “Will you take care of me?” if she did.
Mark understood and ignored Avery. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.
Cadence turned to Dylan and nodded.
Avery sat grinning. “You’re a good man, Mr. Connelly.”