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“Not long.” I drink my own beer, mostly to loosen the film sticking to my tongue from the shot.
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a journalist.”
“Sexy. I’m a nurse. I can’t believe I have a Friday off. I think Jackson invites me because someone always gets hurt at his parties. I’ve put broken noses back into place. I’ve dressed wounds. A few years ago, Billy went out for a pass and ran into Mrs. Mart’s cast-iron planter. He damn near tore his ear off. That was messy.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“You’re not from Little Town, are you?” she asks, slang for the neighborhood we’re in.
“Bexley.”
“I could’ve guessed. Your outfit is definitely not from Target.” She touches my arm. “I did not mean that as an insult by the way. You look like you come from money. I didn’t mean you don’t work hard for what you have.” She winces. “I didn’t mean that as an insult, either. Ignore me.”
Dammit. Now I like her.
“It’s okay. I know what you meant.” I think back on Barrett telling me about his trailer-park childhood. Little Town is a far cry from a trailer park, but it’s equally a far cry from the country-club area where I grew up.
“I feel like a snob sitting here by myself,” I confess.
“I saw you sitting alone, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone.” She waggles her empty shot glass. “This was an excuse to approach you. It’s hard to mingle with a bunch of people you don’t know.”
“Thank you.” I’m struck by how kind it was of her to think of me.
A shout precedes Barrett lifting another guy onto his shoulder. A third guy musses Barrett’s hair in celebration.
“Looks like your guy won,” Stacie tells me. “Be prepared. All that testosterone has to go somewhere. He’s going to want some tonight.” At my stunned reaction, she blurts, “I never had sex with Barrett by the way. I was talking about Bo. He was a big guy. Insatiable appetite for sex.”
She continues, talking about a college game during which she and Bo sneaked off to have sex in the woods. I listen, entertained, but mostly relieved. It’s good to know that Stacie never had Barrett in her bed.
But it’s better knowing I’ll have him in mine tonight.
Chapter 23
Barrett
By the time we break up street ball in favor of water and food, I find Catarina sitting on the porch swing next to Stacie, several empty plastic shot glasses scattered at her feet. They’re looking chummy and are both snort-laughing.
“Hey, Fox,” Catarina says, her smile loose and wonky. “Have you had one of Jackson’s shots?”
She had trouble with the transition from one s to the next, hinting that she’s had several of Jackson’s shots.
“I have indeed. Enough to know that one is too many.” I peg Stacie with a meaningful look. “How many has she had?”
Stacie gives me a sloppy shrug. “Four or five?”
Ah, hell.
“Okay, Kitty Cat. Let’s get you out of here.” I bend and take her hands. “Do you feel sick yet?”
“Not at all!” She stands, wobbles, and I lock an arm around her waist to support her.
“You mean not yet.” I hate to break it to her, but she’s not going to feel this good in an hour.
Jackson climbs his porch steps, takes one look at Catarina, and says, “Uh-oh.”
“I’m told she’s had four or five of your shots.”
