I walk back into the main ballroom and lean up against the wall, watching the middle-aged, half-gagged, designer-clad guests trying to get their groove on.
My sister Alexandra walks up and leans back against the wall beside me. “Interesting show. Much better than anything WWF’s come out with recently.”
I scowl. “Not now, Lex.”
She shrugs. “Okay. Just happened to see you floating up shit’s creek and thought I’d throw you a paddle. But if you’re not interested…”
She lets the offer hang.
Until I turn my attention to her. “What?”
She sighs. “You’re new to this whole thing, so I’m going to give you some advice. Relationships only work when both parties put the other person’s feelings before their own. Without that? Things tend to implode rather quickly. Let’s take Matthew and Delores, for instance. It’s obvious she doesn’t like you very much, but she doesn’t let that come between them. How do you think he would feel if she told Matthew she didn’t want him talking to you anymore?”
I’m already shaking my head. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Not to you. But to Kate, it’s exactly the same thing.”
I clench my fists, frustrated. “So what are you saying? I have to invite the guy over to my place for a freaking slumber party? Do each other’s nails?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t have to be friends with him. You just have to suck it up and accept the fact that Kate is.”
I fold my arms and look around the room, purposely not acknowledging her counsel.
She shrugs. “Or don’t. Ignore everything I’m saying, let your insecurities get the better of you, and completely disregard Kate’s feelings on the matter.” She pats my shoulder. “Let me know how that works out for you.”
Then she walks away. While I stand there. Pouting—yes, I’m aware.
I scan the room and find Kate, talking to Delores. She smiles at something her friend says, but her eyes don’t. It’s fake. A cover.
Fuck.
And then I spot Warren, sitting at the bar. I look back and forth between the two. Then I let out a big breath and walk over. I nod to the bartender. “Whiskey. Double.”
Eating shit? Doesn’t taste very good. I’m going to need something to wash it down.
An hour later, I’ve learned three things about Billy Warren:
1) He loves music.
2) He’s really into his new truck.
3) He can’t hold his liquor for shit.
Douchebag is a total lightweight. Which, for me, is a good thing—a drunk guy is usually an honest guy.
“…custom leather seats as soft as a baby’s ass…”
Blah blah blah. I’ve tuned him out for a while now. It’s the only way I’ve been able to stop myself from getting as trashed as he is. But warm-up time is over now. Might as well get right to the point.
“So listen, Billy, I need you to level with me—man to man. You looking to hook up with Kate again, or what?”
His face wrinkles. “Nah, man…me and Kate…that’s like so yesterday. We were done way before we were done. Water over the bridge.”
“Under.”
“Exactly. Started too young. I mean, I love the girl, always will. Not like…in a sister kind of way exactly, cause we’ve done it…”
So don’t need to hear this right now.
“…but almost. Her and Delores, they’re like my inner sanctum. For a long time it was just the three of us against the world, you know what I’m sayin’?”
I digest this information while he takes a drag of his beer.
Then he leans forward and his voice drops low, like he’s got a secret to tell. “She’s happy, you know. Kate. These last few months, she’s sounded really happy. More than she ever was with me, that’s for damn sure. Dee Dee says so, too.”
He fingers the label on his beer bottle. “But you know how it is—the higher you climb, the farther you fall—and it’s not like you’re the sticking type. So when I think about how bad you’re gonna hurt her? Pretty much makes me want to put a fucking bullet between your eyes.”
Now that, I can respect.
I slap him on the back. Maybe a little harder than I needed to. “Tell you what, Billy—the day I hurt her? I’ll buy you the gun.”
His drunken eyes regard me suspiciously. Then he holds out his hand. And I shake it firmly.
Why are you so surprised? I can be mature. Sometimes. Besides, just because I’ve decided not to punch him in the face the next time I see him doesn’t mean I’m going to give Kate all of his goddamn messages.
What do I look like? A saint?
Out of nowhere the lovely woman in question appears beside me, standing between our bar stools. “What’s going on? What is this?”
I open my mouth to explain, but Warren beats me to it. “Relax, Katie. Me and Evans…just buryin’ the old hammer.”
“Hatchet.”
“That, too.”
Her eyes flicker back and forth between us. I smile calmly. Reassuringly.
She’s not convinced. “So, what? You two get into a fight, have a few beers, and now you’re all buddy buddy? You gonna go outside and pee on the wall together, too?”
Warren holds up his hand. “Let’s not get crazy. It’s not like we’re gonna hang out and play foosball or something. But if Evans here ever needs an extra hand with an assisted suicide?” He taps his chest. “I’m your guy.”
I raise my glass. “Well said.”
He downs a shot and stands up. “And on that note, I’m gonna head over to that little hottie on the dance floor who’s been givin’ me the eye all night. Tell Aunt Amelia not to wait up. And hey, Evans-- you should watch your back. This shin-dig is my cousin’s deal, and we messed it up. Dee Dee’s not gonna let that slide.”
I nod. “Thanks for the warning.”
After he’s gone, there’s a moment of silence. And Kate looks sideways at me. “What’s your game, Drew?”
I look surprised. Innocent. “Game? Me? No game. I just…like you more than I hate him. Simple, really.”
She nods slowly, the corners of her mouth turning up in a half smile. “And you couldn’t have had this little revelation before you announced my talent for fellatio to our family and friends?”