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I exhale. “Ash was adamant he’d hocked loogies in his burger. I did that simply to prove him wrong.”
Ash shakes his head disapprovingly. “Honestly Emmy, that guy was a geek.”
“You told Ash I was the one who spiked his drink with drowsy cough syrup because I didn’t want him to chaperone me to that party.”
Again, I exhale but much longer this time. “I wanted to go to that party too, but knew you wouldn’t listen to me when the fucking bottle came out. Who plays spin the bottle anymore? Dumbest game ever.”
“Dumb?” She laughs. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. Your first kiss was at sixteen playing that game with that Debbie something-or-other. I can’t believe you were sixteen when you got your first kiss. Talk about frigid.”
Raising my eyebrows, I question her casually pretending it’s not true. “Why would you say that? That’s not true.”
Ash clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. The little fucker had to open his big fucking mouth. When I was younger I was terrified of girls. I only kissed Debbie because of peer pressure and everyone calling me gay.
“Did you know Ash fucked your best friend Riley on your bed during one of your sleepovers?”
Her face pulls back in utter shock. “What? Where the hell was I?”
“You were in the basement with me. I needed waffles and you were trying to find the waffle maker then we got distracted with the fake spider I planted on top of the waffle maker.”
“I nearly died,” she whispers to herself. “And it explains why Riley complained all night that the room was hot in the middle of winter.”
“You didn’t almost die.” I roll my eyes in frustration. “It was fake. And what’s the worst thing a spider can do to you?”
“Kill you,” Emmy and Ash say in unison.
The both of them are petrified of spiders. A reason why Ash hates the thought of traveling to Australia to play the summer games.
“So, this party tonight? Can we come?” I switch the subject, knowing the spider talk doesn’t ease their anxiety.
“I don’t think so,” she answers instantly.
“Why not?” I question, the same time Ash puts on his whiney face.
“I don’t know because it’s a Hollywood party and the cameras are following me around tonight. Trust me, it can get rather annoying.”
What a stupid response. The cameras follow us all the time when we play. The games are all televised being shown nationally and internationally. They film everything down to every move, including when I’d been caught out many times in a heated argument with the referee and sent off for mouthing off.
And then it clicks.
If the cameras are following her, Wesley Rich will be there.
I’ve never met him. I know he comes with a silver spoon in his mouth from the many husbands his mother has screwed and then walked down the aisle with. Of his behavior I’ve seen on television, he’s a fucking jerkoff. Something about his attitude gets under my skin.
When Ash told me that Wesley and Emmy were dating, I was surprised she’d stoop that low. He enjoyed his women and was known to toss them out when he was done.
Apparently, she tamed him.
“Will Wesley be there?”
She keeps her head down, swirling the food on her plate. “Yes.”
“Who cares, Emmy! I’m bored. Plus, I need some head to relieve the tension,” Ash whines.
It catches her attention with a reactive response. “Uh-uh… you’re married. Don’t go screwing things up. We don’t need any more scandal in our lives.”
“What are you talking about? There’s no scandal,” he corrects not knowing about Wesley’s indiscretions. I hadn’t said anything to him, keeping my promise to her intact. “And a hand-job doesn’t count. It’s not cheating.”
I try to keep a straight face but let out a laugh. We’ve had this conversation numerous times and I agreed it doesn’t count.
