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"I didn’t forget," Savannah said with a huff. "But you’re definitely crazy. It’s six AM and you’re calling me like it’s eleven."
"What else was I supposed to do?"
"Wait until the sun had risen?" Savannah responded dryly as she toweled her hair dry, the reason, I assumed, why she had the call on speaker with Jen of all people. I knew her because I spent a lot of time at Finn’s place, and Jen did as well because she was best friends with Aoife.
How the hell did she know Savannah too?
Their personalities didn’t gel at all. At least, I didn’t think they would.
"Like he did? My lawyer said we should discuss things, have an informal meeting. See if I can work on him to lessen the suit."
"And you listened? Shouldn’t you avoid him until the day of the court case?"
"Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t afford what he wants, and he’s rich. Don’t rich people always win in court?" She huffed. "You’d know. You’re rich."
Savannah rolled her eyes. "You know I’m the one who got fired, don’t you?"
"For thwacking that prick’s prick," Jen retorted, but she was snickering. "There’s a difference. I notice the studio didn’t take you to court. Just tried to wipe it under the carpet. Fuckers. If I’d have done what you did, they’d have had my ass in front of the Supreme Court."
"Not sure you’re that important, Jen," Savannah consoled with a laugh.
"Oh, you bet your ass I am."
"You’re not apologetic enough to meet with Damian," Savannah pointed out a second later. "How the hell can you work on him to lessen the settlement if you’re not sorry for what you did?"
Crap, I remembered now. During my detox, Finn had been whining about Jen because she’d keyed her boyfriend’s Ferrari.
Evidently, the court case had yet to take place...
Because I didn’t need this shit show in my life, I stepped over to the dresser where Savannah had placed her phone, and murmured, "Jen, if you have him come to The 68 bar in The Sharpe, I’ll sit in and adjudicate."
Silence fell at my words, and Savannah scowled at me, then shoved me in the side. "What the hell?" she mouthed.
"Aidan?" Jen queried, her voice confused. "Is that you? What are you doing at Savannah’s?" She paused. "Oh, my God. You’re there at six AM. Are you two fucking?"
"You know each other?" Savannah questioned, brow puckered even more.
"You stay scowling, the wind’ll change, and you’ll be stuck like that forever." When she harrumphed, I shot her a wink. "Trust me. It’s not bullshit. Why do you think Brennan looks the way he does?"
She snickered, which fuck me, had my heart leaping in my chest.
I’d think it was a heart attack, but men like me didn’t die of cardiac arrest. We endured horrendously violent passings.
The only consolation was that the most brutal of those endings would occur at my father’s hands, and I highly doubted he’d ever kill me that way.
At least, I hoped I’d never be the target of that insane wrath.
A man had to have goals, didn’t he?
Eyes twinkling, she mumbled, "I guess I don’t have to introduce my favorite people to one another."
"Favorite people? Girl, how much have you been holding out on me? Aidan’s miserable ass is no one’s favorite person."
"I can hear you, Jen," I told her wryly.
"Good. I want you to hear me. It’s been a while since I saw you at Finn and Aoife’s but your grouchy ass made Aoife cry."
"Aoife’s always crying at the minute," I discounted, but I wriggled my shoulders with discomfort. "I just said the cookies were too sugary! Jesus, you’d think I was accusing her of homicide."
