Page 17 of The Awful Truth

Sitting up, Antonia tried to whisper but failed miserably. “She should have a fling with Oliver.”

Ted’s head snapped back a bit and he blinked several times, as though a gust of wind had just peppered him with sand. “Oh…do we think that’s a good idea?”

Antonia stared at Oliver and nodded, her movements exaggerated by the booze. “Yes, I think we do. Miguel? What do you say? Should young, sweet, beautiful, hard-working Charlotte here tap that?”

Miguel burst out laughing. “First of all, she wouldn’t tap that. He’d be the one doing the tapping. And second, yes, absolutely she should make our poor Oliver’s week.”

Ted made a tsking sound. “All right, you two. You’re cut off. Neither of them have asked for this.”

“Oh Ted, relax. Char here deserves to have a good time.”

“Not appropriate, Toni,” Ted told her in his ‘I mean business’ voice. “He’s literally right there and can hear you talking about him like he’s a piece of meat to be passed around. Let’s change the subject.”

Antonia pulled a face. “Fine, but I still think it’s a wonderful idea.”

Winslow, whose cheeks had turned ruddy over an hour ago, let out a snort-laugh. “Dr. Dawson, you’re rather fun when you’re drunk.”

Offering him a deep bow, she said, “Why thank you, sir. You as well.”

Miguel narrowed his eyes and scratched his head with his index finger. “Wait. I’m supposed to be doing something, but I forgot what.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh yes, I was planning to pump you two for information about Mr. Bishop. I need to get an edge for when we negotiate my show.” He turned to Charlotte. “I probably shouldn’t have told them that though.”

Charlotte let out a loud laugh and picked up her drink. “No, I think you were supposed to keep that thought to yourself.”

Waving his hand, Miguel said, “Oh screw it. Might as well be honest with you all.” He planted his chin on his fist. “We’re all friends here. Now, what can you tell me about him?”

“He’s a hell of a tough negotiator,” Ted answered at the same time Antonia said, “He’s an overt narcissist.”

“Jesus, Toni,” Ted muttered.

“What? It’s true,” she answered, her words slurred together slightly.

Winslow raised one eyebrow. “Is that your professional diagnosis?”

Antonia shook her head. “I don’t do that anymore. I’m not a real psychiatrist these days. I’m the dowdy half of a circus act.” Snapping her fingers, she said, “Wait! I did make it to the circus after all.”

She and Miguel burst out laughing, then she added, “Only I juggle ridiculous guests who want fifteen seconds of fame for being complete morons.”

Ted glared. “Toni, seriously.”

She waved him off. “Forget I said that. I might be a little tipsy.”

“You might be blackout drunk,” her husband said.

Miguel leaned in and lowered his voice. “Back to Travis. One thing I’ve always wondered was how the hell he landed Mercy Deveraux. I mean, I get that he’s rich, but she could’ve landed a prince. Or someone rich and devastatingly handsome.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say she’s an empath with low self-esteem. Narcissists know exactly how to pull them in,” Antonia said.

“Toni, please don’t diagnose our hosts,” Ted told his wife, giving her a meaningful look.

“I don’t think she’s got low self-esteem at all,” Charlotte said. “I think she knew exactly what she was getting into with him. And if I had to guess, I’d say she’s the one with all the power. I mean, him landing someone like her? He must be thanking his lucky stars every day she agreed to marry him.”

Winslow nodded. “A mismatch if ever there was one.”

“Seriously,” Miguel said. “She’s one of the most beautiful women alive. And she was a rising film star.” Clutching one hand to his chest, he added, “Remember how good she was in Gone Away?”

“God, what a movie that was,” Antonia said. “That was Talbot Sterling’s last film, wasn’t it?”

Miguel let out a sigh. “Oh, Talbot Sterling. If I didn’t already know I was gay, I would have figured it out the first time I saw him on the big screen.”