“Sure,” Eli answered politely.
I had no idea if he genuinely liked these two or if he was just being polite, but I could barely restrain my cat claws. I focused on finishing my second drink and scrolling through my phone to see if I needed to download the Uber app to get home.
“I can’t stand these bitches,” Kara grumbled in my ear.
“Me either,” I agreed.
“Where’s your hubby?” The obnoxious voice grated on my nerves until I realized Andrea was talking to me. Then it went from grating to stabbing and I wanted to flee.
I lifted my chin and met her calculating gaze. “Me?” I asked pointlessly.
I tried not to hate Andrea just because she had perfect hair that fell in shiny, curled waves to her shoulders and a tiny nose and porcelain skin. She looked like a Barbie doll. Even her boobs were over proportioned.
I glanced down at my chest and tried not to wince. Boobs were not a legitimate reason to hate someone.
Right?
Sure. Right.
No, she had way worse qualities than perfect looks. Her personality was absolutely unforgivable.
“We’re not together anymore,” I answered lamely. “You know that.”
She canted her head at me and laughed. “Do I?”
I cleared my throat and willed a waiter to come over by the sheer power of my desperate need for another drink.
Andrea let the awkward silence drag on for a few more painful moments before she cemented her place in hell and said, “That’s too bad, Kate. He was a catch.”
“Let’s get more drinks!” Kara shouted.
Thank god for best friends.
I stood up so quickly, I almost knocked my chair backward. Kara caught it with her panther-like reflexes and then we escaped to the bar.
“Shots!” she shouted at the bartender. “We need shots!”
“Of what?” He raised his eyebrows at us, amused curiosity dancing in his expression.
“Something strong,” Kara threw back.
“Something painful!” I added.
The young bartender’s face lit with laughter. “You got it.” He looked between us and clarified, “Two?”
“Two,” I answered immediately. I saw Kara’s eyes flicker back to the table and there was no way in hell I would let her take shots back to Andrea to prove just how pathetic I was. No doubt, she already knew. I didn’t need to advertise this shit.
The bartender poured two tiny glasses of gasoline, I mean, cheap tequila and handed them over. For a half second, I deliberated asking for a lime, but I couldn’t waste any more time. I picked up the clear liquid and slammed it down, sputtering through the worst of the burn.
“Oh, god,” I groaned.
“I might puke,” Kara winced. “I’m not kidding. That was really bad.”
“Another!” I shouted at the bartender.
He looked at me like I was absolutely crazy, the good fun draining away, replaced with concern. I wagged my finger between Kara and me and looked at him expectantly.
“Alright,” he mumbled. This time he pulled out something a little smoother and handed us limes to go with them.
Kara and I slammed the second set of shots and bit down on our limes to ease the fire.
“I hate mean girls,” Kara hissed after we’d acclimated to the new burn of alcohol.
“I hate divorce.”
She laid her hand on my shoulder sympathetically, but there was nothing else to say.
The rest of the night went on like that. Eli and Kent came over to talk to us after a while and we laughed over another round of tequila shots. Worse karaoke and more gossip continued, but mostly there was relaxing.
I avoided Andrea and Meg as often as I could and let Eli entertain me with his funny stories and witty sarcasm.
I wasn’t used to a man’s focus. And I really wasn’t used to a man like Eli, a man that paid attention to what I said. A man that paid attention to me.