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“Motherfucker!” Anna exclaimed after Sallina—who was just a little bit drunk—filled her in on all that had happened between her and Sly since the dinner party at Anna’s house.
After a hellacious day in the office—which she blamed on Sylvester and her jerk-off bosses—Sally texted a Hail Mary, demanding Anna and their new novitiate girlfriend, Maeve, come to her house for takeout Thai food and box wine. She needed to unwind in style, which required vino, veritas, and vile language.
Next to Anna on the overstuffed couch was Maeve, who looked equal parts horrified and intrigued.
“Not such good things about your boss, huh?” Sally sneered, immediately feeling bad about putting the hurt in Maeve’s wide blue eyes. “Ugh. Sorry, sweetie. I get angry drunk…when I’m drunk.”
“Yeah, and sometimes she gets British, too,” Anna interjected, wickedness dancing in her smile. “Wanker. Rot. Pissed. Moronic git.”
Maeve giggled at Anna’s poor imitation of Sally’s poor imitation of a British accent. “Sounds like you loves need some lessons,” Maeve offered, her accent so right on Sally swore the woman was British Royalty.
Gawping at the brightly blushing but smirking woman, Sally blurted, “Holy shit, Anna! Did you hear her?”
Anna nodded crazily. “I did.”
“You have to teach us your ways, oh great one,” Sally pleaded, her hands steepling under her chin in supplication.
Maeve smiled big, nearly blinding Sally with how bright and glorious it was. Damn. Maeve was a diamond disguised by boxy clothes and a quiet, shy personality. Sally wondered what else the woman was hiding.
The shrillness of Anna’s cell ringing made Sally start, blinking at Anna, who swore and reached for the phone on the side table.
“It’s Blaze.” She answered the call. “Hey, babe…. Uh-huh, we’re all here. Umm….” Her gaze flicked to Sally before returning to her lap. “I’ll call you when I need a ride.”
Stashing her phone in her hoodie pocket, Anna offered Sally a sheepish grin. “Sorry ‘bout that. Scorching Hot Blaze was just being nosy.”
Maeve arched an eyebrow? “You call your boyfriend Scorching Hot Blaze?”
Sally snickered. “Not her—all the other ladies in Jackson Key called him that, but it stuck, and now she uses it when she’s being pissy…or….” Sally’s gaze shot to Anna, who was doing an excellent impression of a turtle.
“What’s going on?” she asked, pinning Anna with her best “I’ll fuck you up” scowl. “Tonight was about booze, bibimbap, and bitching—you better not have invited your big dick to come ruin things.”
Anna spluttered. “Big dick? What the hell, Sally.”
Sally raised her hand and then pointed a finger at Anna, glaring. “Don’t try to change the subject, woman! Tell me what’s going on. And for the record, Sly’s dick is HUGE.”
Maeve choked on her wine. Anna looked to Maeve, probably calculating her chances of using the woman as a human shield against Sally’s verbal attacks, but Maeve shook her head before taking another, slower sip of grocery store wine.
Finally realizing she was losing the battle of wills—as she usually did with Sally—Anna huffed and crossed her arms. “Fine. Blaze called because he wanted to know if you were here and sober because he said Sly wanted to know if you were home.”
“Sly couldn’t call me himself and ask me that? My phone’s on and charged. And where the hell else would I be, the ass.”
Anna shrugged. “I have no idea what that man is thinking, but I’m assuming he wanted to know your level of inebriation because he wants to talk to you…without risking blood loss.”
“Those things are not unrelated,” Sally admitted, grinning evilly. So…Sly wanted to know if she was home, which meant he was either on his way or planning to stop by in the morning. Would she be home in the morning? She couldn’t make it that easy on him. She could crash with Anna…or sucker Maeve into letting her boss’s girlfriend sleep on her couch—
No. She needed to get some shit off her chest, and he needed to listen. She was tired of coming second to that scheming bitch.
“He’s coming here? Tonight?” she finally asked, watching Anna for any tells that she wasn’t spilling all the beans.
“From what I surmised, yes.”
She looked down at herself. Wine-stained sweatshirt, fraying yoga pants, bare feet, day-old makeup, and hair pulled up into a sloppy bun. She looked a mess.
Completely comfortable in her skin, Sally had never hidden her true self from Sly. From period Sallina to post-work Sallina to lazy Sunday Sallina, Sylvester had seen them all. And he hadn’t been scared away.
Still, she wasn’t precisely as sober as she should be when she was about to have a conversation with Sly, one she assumed was a piggyback on the one they should have had that night after the beach.
Maeve stood, grabbing her purse from the floor. “I should probably get going. I don’t think I want to be here when my boss arrives to…err…see his girlfriend.”
