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“Why not?”
“I dunno. She’s just…”
“Different,” I say, wondering what Bridget would be like in bed.
“Bro, you’re not seriously interested?”
I look through the glass doors and see Amy and Bridget returning. Maybe it’s because I’m bored, but my answer to JD is a yes.
* * *
Kimberly’s pissed at me.I can tell by the way she stares and frowns at me, her passive-aggressive way of telling me I need to ask her what’s wrong and make amends. She’s so busy being angry at me, she hasn’t picked on Bridget so far.
“You’ve got to try big game hunting,” Eric is saying to JD as we stand on the deck after the event has wound down. “Five years ago, my dad and I got to accompany the president on his visit with the leader of Mongolia. I shot myself an argali sheep. It was so awesome!”
Bridget frowns. “You get a thrill shooting defenseless animals?”
“They’re not defenseless. Have you seen their horns?”
“I assume you fired from a safe distance away.”
“That’s only ’cause the Nosler M48 gives you amazing range.”
“Aren’t argali sheep on the endangered species list?”
Eric bristles.
Not backing down, Bridget continues, “And did the taxpayers end up paying for this hunting trip?”
Everyone around us looks too stunned and uncomfortable for words. I’m kind of amused.
JD tries to come to Eric’s defense. “Are you one of those please-don’t-shoot-Bambi anti-hunters?”
“I didn’t know ‘anti-hunters’ was a thing,” Bridget replies, “but if you’re asking if I’m someone who opposes killing endangered animals on the taxpayer’s dime, then yes, I am.”
Amy gives Bridget a please stop look.
Kimberly wakes from her coma of anger and redirects toward Bridget. “But you’re in support of wearing sweaters that look like dead animals?”
Bridget gives Kimberly an oh, please look and opens her mouth.
But I take her by the elbow. “I forgot to show you the view from the kitchen.”
She stumbles a little as I pull her into the house. “Really?”
“I could ask the same to you,” I reply, not releasing her until we’re in the kitchen.
“I was just speaking my mind. Men get praised all the time for straight-talking, but when women do it, we’re considered bitchy.”
“Did I say you were being a bitch?”
She pouted her lips for a second, reminding me of a second cousin's nine-year-old daughter, but then Bridget lifts her chin and crosses her arms. “Why’d you drag me in here then?”
“For multiple reasons, one of them being that you and Kimberly looked like you were about to tear each other’s hair out.”
“She started it.”
“Yeah, she did, but you can still be the mature one.”
