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“I’m not.”
There was a longer pause.
“You actually sound pretty happy.”
“…I am.”
No pause at all:
“Did you hook up with somebody new?!”
I groaned and tried to obfuscate. “Why do you just automatically assume that? People aren’t all like
you
, you know. They can be happy without having sex.”
“Did you or did you not hook up with somebody new?!”
Long pause on my end this time.
“…yes.”
“I KNEW IT! You little slut! Okay, we totally have to go have drinks so I can get me a drama fix. I get off at work at 6, we’ll go get hammered and you have to tell me EVERYTHING.”
“I would, but I’m not in New York.”
“Whaaaaa? Where are you, then?”
“…um… South Dakota…?”
“What the HELL?! Did you go off and marry a country boy, you crazy bitch?”
“NO.”
“No to the marrying, or no to the country boy?”
“No to both.”
“Then who the hell is in South Dakota?”
I winced. “…um… Ryan…?”
“OH MY GOD, YOU DIDN’T!”
she shrieked.
“What’re you trying to do, collect the whole set?!”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen!”
“What, it just happened by accident?”
“…kind of…”
“What does THAT mean? You tripped and fell on his dick while he was whacking off?”
“I’m hanging up on you.”
“Not until you tell me why you’re in South Dakota, you’re not.”
“He has a ranch up here.”
“A ranch, huh? Is it a STUD ranch, by any chance?”
“Ha ha,” I said without laughing.
“Stud ranch or not, what the hell are you doing there? Well, I mean, besides getting laid.”
I ignored her. “Ryan knew what was going on between me and Derek, so he invited me up here.”
“Wait – what?! Derek got in a car wreck, and you go and bone the bassist?!”
“NO!” I shouted, then realized something. “Wait – you don’t know about what happened in Vegas, do you?”
“NO, because you never tell me ANYTHING!”
I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining about Vegas, finding the woman in Derek’s hotel room, going back to New York, coming to South Dakota, Derek showing up during the rainstorm, the deal with the Deadwood chief of police, and everything that had happened with Ryan.
“Holy shit… and I thought MY life was complicated.”
“This is serious, Shanna.”
“Yeah, seriously HOT. Damn, Gina, I TOLD you you were hogging all the rock stars.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to!”
“Mm-hmmmm,”
she said, not sounding convinced at all.
“So when are you coming back to New York?”
I sighed unhappily. “In about a week. Ryan’s got to go back to Athens to record with the band.”
“If there’s a band LEFT when he gets there.”
My stomach twisted with guilt. “Don’t start.”
“Seriously, before they break up, get them to write a song about you. Like Eric Clapton did with George Harrison’s wife. Yeah. You can out-Layla
Layla.
”
“Not funny.”
“Not ‘Lola’ – that’s a dude dressed like a chick. You don’t want a song about you like that.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Seriously, though, Kaitlyn… take care of yourself. I know this is… well, it’s going to be rough.”
I was touched. “Thank you, Shanna.”
“Breaking up a band always is.”
“Shanna!”
“Be sure to get laid as much as possible before he go-goes!”
“That’s a group, not a song.”
“Not the Go-Go’s, dummy – I’m talking about the song by George Michael. I don’t think you have a shot with HIM, he’s gay now. Though the way you’re going, it sounds like you might give it a try anyway, just to rack up some more names.”
“I’m hanging up for real now.”
“Think of me when you’re doing him! Ryan, not George Michael. Especially since you stole him from me freshman year! Shit, you stole EVERYBODY from me freshman year – ”
“Goodbye, Shanna.”
When I hung up on her, she was still laughing.
