I snorted, like the lady I wasn't. "He's probably a hundred times worse. Star quarterback for the Lowball Bay Humpbacks. Darling of the tabloids and bikini models everywhere."
I wouldn't criticise any woman for making a living, no matter what she did, but whenever photos appeared of him online, he was with a hot, half naked woman.
Not that I looked. No way. Okay, but only sometimes, and it wasprobablyfor work.
The guy I remembered, I once thought he had some substance. He seemed genuinely eager to learn. In reality, he needed to pass English or he would have been kicked off the team. The chances were, what I thought was eagerness was desperation and I was too blind to see it.
"That still hurts, huh?" she asked softly. "This is why I have cats."
I smiled. Grace wasn't Grace without a few stray cat hairs somewhere on her, even in an evening dress.
"I travel too much for a pet," I said. "Besides, I can't even keep a cactus alive." I nodded toward the windowsill where the poor plant had sat before I eventually tossed it.
"I still don't know how you killed a plastic cactus," Grace said.
"I have skills," I said ironically. I didn't know either, but the thing definitely wilted. "My love life is just as lucky."
"If Hawk Florence is a cactus, then you dodged a bullet there." Grace wriggled as though the insides of her thighs were uncomfortable. “Last thing you need is a limp prick.”
I laughed so loud, it would have been heard through the entire apartment building.
I clapped a hand over my mouth, then lowered it and grimaced at the smear of lipstick on my palm. That was me, all class. No wonder I rarely wore makeup; it would end up everywhere.
I washed my hands and reapplied my lipstick.
"How do I look?" I smiled brilliantly, and batted my eyelashes.
"Like you're ready to knock off his socks and shoes and leave him to walk home on his bare-ass feet," Grace replied, as only a best friend can. "He'll shoot his load in his pants the moment he sees you."
"I was going for 'crawling home on hands and knees,' but that will do," I joked.
Okay, half-joked. I wanted him to look at me. Reallylookat me, like he hadn't in high school.
Was that petty? After all, I was doing well for myself. I worked in theNational Dailymagazine's headquarters here in Lowball Bay. I owned the part of my apartment the bank didn't own, which was approximately a fingertip of space in the bathroom. Maybe the whole toilet.
I didn't need to impress any guy.
Except this one.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Grace picked up the lipstick tube and slipped it into my bag.
"In case I get tongue-tied?" I asked. "What's the worst that could happen?" All right, I might march in and declare myself to be the proud owner of a toilet. I'm pretty sure even I wouldn't be that awkward.
Maybe.
"Tongue-tied, panty-tied—" Grace gave me a meaningful look, one side of her mouth pulled up, along with one eyebrow.
I blushed and cleared my throat. "That's not going to happen. I have more pride than that, you know."
"Uh-huh." She looked me up and down and raised her perfectly threaded eyebrows.
Okay, she had a point. I usually interviewed people while wearing a sensible skirt, sensible blouse and, of course, sensible shoes. My name might as well have been Rebecca Sensible Anderson.
Well, not today. Today I was out to raise more eyebrows than Grace's.
"Just be careful, okay?" she said. "I don't want you getting hurt again. There's only so much ice cream in Victoria."
I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at her. She helped me through all of my crises, breakups, moves, new jobs, dead plants. Even the time our old dog was hit by a car and had to run everywhere on three legs. Poor old Rusty was long gone now, but Grace still stuck around.
