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“A decoy,” I said. “A fake boyfriend. Your mom will think it’s real and then she won’t bug you anymore and keep trying to fix you up with duds.”
She smacked her head. “Genius. Except the only guys I know are friends of my brothers and none of them will fake date me…or real date me.”
“There’s just one tiny problem.” Jazz smiled and picked up the Bloody Mary. She took a sip. “Oh, that’s spicy. I like it.”
The bartender grinned. “You seem a little spicy yourself.”
“I’m a hot tamale,” Jazz said. “Like the candy.”
“You’re cute,” he said.
“So are you.”
“Hold on a second,” Brielle interrupted. “Can you guys do this another time? We’re in the middle of figuring out a solution tomyproblem. I’mliterallystanding here telling you I can’t find a man.”
“From the sound of it, we did figure out the solution to your problem,” I said. “But there was something else Jazz wanted to add.”
“Sex,” she blurted out and then shot the bartender a wink.
With a roll of her eyes, Brielle grabbed Jazz and dragged her away from the bartender onto the lawn. I followed.
“What about sex?” Brielle asked.
“Well, you need it,” Jazz said.
“What, like right now?” Brielle asked with a grin.
“It wouldn’t hurt. You’ve been uptight lately. No offense. If you get a fake boyfriend, you won’t be having real sex.”
“I don’t need to have sex with my fake boyfriend. I’ve got one of those in my underwear drawer.”
“I know, his name is Big Boy and I hear it almost every night,” Jazz said.
Brielle’s eyes widened. “Wait—do youhearme?”
“The walls are thin, and like I said, you’ve been pretty hard up lately.”
“Me hard up? What about you? You’re not getting any.”
Jazz sobered. “Right, I’m not getting any.”
I watched them verbally spar with each other as I drank my cocktail. “You guys sound like me and Waverly. I mean, not about the Big Boy part, but the sisterly fighting you’re doing.”
Jazz wrapped her arm around Brielle’s neck. “We’re basically sisters. It’s why I can tease her about her dildo.”
“Oh my God, can you please stop?” Brielle demanded, her cheeks nearly as red as her hair. “You’re impossible.”
Jazz looked over her shoulder at the cute bartender. She waved at him. He waved back.
“Go,” Brielle said with a sigh. “I know you want to.”
“Thanks!” Jazz said as she began to head back to the bar.
I looped my arm through Brielle’s and we headed toward the Old Ladies who were sitting on Brooklyn’s brand-new patio furniture. She and Slash had only recently moved into the house, but she’d already made it a home.
“Where’s Doc?” I asked.
“Late.” Mia shook her head and set her phone aside. “Emergency at the clinic. She’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”
