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"Man, that is so low," Luke said, shaking his head and staring at Leo and Jacqui. "I can't believe you would tap my bitch like this."
"Dude, you have a girlfriend," Leo said in his defense.
Bitch? Jacqui was no one's bitch. What was this, some bad audition tape for a rap video? Who did these guys think they were? Eminem and Dr. Dre? More like Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer.
"You! You lied to me!" she said to Luke. "You had girlfriend the whole time!"
"Listen, mamasita. What I do in the States is my business. I showed you a good time, didn't I?" Luke said scornfully. He'd had Jacqui's number since they met. All pretty girls had zero self- esteem. Jacqui was just like every Upper East Side ice princess who pretended to be all that, but melted at a well-phrased compliment.
Jacqui couldn't believe she had ever fallen in love with such a
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cretin. Or that she had fallen for his whole aw-shucks, nice-guy act.
"Goddamn, Leo, I can't believe you got on my bitch!" Luke said, scowling and folding his arms across his chest, assuming the confrontational pose he had seen Snoop throw down on the BET
"I didn't. The bitch wasn't taken," Leo said, stepping back and waving his arms.
"Bitch? What? Listen, you," Jacqui said, turning to Leo. "I'm only with you to make him jealous."
"See. You're being played, man. That is cold. That's cold," Luke said, smirking.
Leo turned purple and turned to Jacqui. "What?!"
Jacqui shrugged. Jesus, what did he think he was, some kind of stud? Of course she was only with him to lick her wounds and get even with the so-called love of her life.
It was a whole sloppy-second mess, a complete emotional disaster. But somehow, by the end of the argument, Luke and Leo were slapping each other on the back, calling each other homie and laughing about the whole thing. Dating and dumping the same girl--it was something the two jerks could relate to. It was just like something out of a Bad Boy video, and they thought that was pretty cool. She just provided them with a summer's worth of gross locker room anecdotes, and they couldn't be happier.
But for once it looked like Jacqui was going to have to sleep in the cottage. Alone.
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mara can't Keep her clothes on
2 A.M. Almost everyone had left for another party, and the only people left were on the back patio by the pool having another kind of party altogether... a more intimate one, shall we say. The table held several empty bottles of liquor, dozens of cocktail glasses, and ashtrays filled to the brim with cigarette butts, and the group exuded a jovial camaraderie as if it were perfectly normal that they were more than half naked. They didn't call it strip poker for nothing.
Mara peeked at her hand. A pair of queens. Not bad. Her dad had taught all three of his kids his favorite game, and Mara always thought of herself as a bit of a pro. No daughter of George "Texas No Limit Hold'Em" Waters was going to lose to a bunch of overprivileged softies from East Hampton.
Nonetheless, she was down to her pink Chantelle bra and matching low-rise underwear.
She looked across the table, where Ryan was busy examining his cards, frowning.
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The dealer flipped the next card: an ace. "And that's the river," he crowed.
"Well, I'm out," Ryan's friend Corey decided, putting down his cards in disgust.
"Me too," another friend agreed.
Around the table everyone took a pass, forfeiting an item of clothing in the process.
"I'm in," Ryan declared.
Mara looked at the ace, looked at her high pair. She scanned the other four community cards--all trash. There is no way he can beat me. He has nothing! Nothing! He's totally bluffing! Ryan was the worst player of the night--he was the only one down to his boxer shorts. Well, besides her.
Mara smiled to herself. This was going to be fun.
