Okay, ranking the five worst days of my life.
Day five: when my family carried through with Dream’s intervention, one of the results of which was, instead of her just being consistently annoyed with me, for some reason, this turned the full force of her vitriol on me.
Day four: yesterday with the one-two punch of Raye and the Angels doing business without me, and Knox’s and my most recent blowout.
Day three: when Raye and her dad learned all that had gone down with Macy. Although it was closure, the news was never going to be good. And it wasn’t. Watching my bestie, her dad and her stepmom go through finally putting Macy to rest was agony.
Day two: getting the phone call when I learned Knox got shot, but this was only at number two because he was going to be all right.
And the overall winner: Knox and me breaking up.
All of that said, I was pretty sure this day fit in there somewhere, I just couldn’t figure out where, but I was thinking it was a tie with day four.
It wasn’t about Raye getting the girls to give me space. I’d asked for that, I couldn’t bitch about it.
Not to mention, I got a lot of we’re sorry looks, mingled with we’re worried looks, mingled with you need to talk to us looks.
After having decided—around one o’clock in the morning, when I’d petered out on crying jag number three, and before crying jag number four hit—that my twenty-four-hour grudge would be doubled, I ignored them all.
But I was me, and I knew me.
I had to stew. I had to let my feelings run amuck.
Then I could get a handle on it, assess the situation and deal with it after the feelings had burned themselves out, and I could handle it like a grown-up.
And now we were at karaoke.
The whole crew was across the room at their conglomeration of tables. All the Hottie Squad (save Cody and Jeff, who I knew from their absence were manning the control room, or on dates), the Angels, Tito, Tex and Nancy (sadly, we wouldn’t hear the dulcet tones of Titus, because I knew he was invited, but he hadn’t showed).
And there I was, across the space with Dream and Byron.
This was case in point why I let my feelings run amuck so all the illogical, emotion-fueled bullshit could run its course.
Because even though it was me who warned them to back off, and it was me who agreed to do whatever-it-was-I was currently doing with my sister and Byron, I still felt like I’d been singled out.
Adrift from my people.
Lost.
Then again, Raye had sided with Cap and Knox, and my bitches had gone about business without me, so it wasn’t that irrational I was feeling cast out.
Dream and Byron were sitting beside each other, me around the table from them, and at first, this was a little awkward, for all three of us.
But as the affliction of hearing people with very little talent massacre good songs (also shitty ones) and the AAHS wandered in—forming their big crew that did not include me, but did include Knox—Dream and Byron noticed, they scooted their chairs closer together, bent their heads to each other, and started whispering while frequently casting glances in my direction.
As for my part, I drank.
Around about song seven, Dream scooted her chair over to me.
I turned from watching a guy destroying Kenny Loggins’s kickass “Danger Zone,” something I was thinking should be classified as a felony, to my sister, catching Byron across the table, watching me with concern on his face.
Oh yeah.
The dude thought of me as a little sister.
“What the hell is going on?” Dream whispered in my ear.
“Don’t worry about it. Have your date,” I said to the stage. I felt her stiffen at me blowing her off and hastened to add, “I’ll tell you later.”
