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I really don’t want to ask her for any help with this. I don’t need her seeing how much I’ve made, and that doesn’t include the cash a few randos have slipped me today. Evan, my dad’s childhood friend, gave me thirty dollars on two twenty-ounce beers earlier. He’s been giving me creepy vibes since high school, but I did take his money with a big smile.
“I have a lot more for you, gorgeous!” he responded when he placed his callous hand on my shoulder. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I batted my lashes instead.
Angela delivers the flatbread pizzas herself.
“Thank you, Angie!” Millie beams. I thank her too.
“You are smiling from ear to ear. What’s got you in a good mood?” Millie asks. I glance up and see the delight on Angela’s face.
She shrugs playfully.
“What?” Millie shakes a bunch of parmesan on the flatbread without asking me if I even wanted any.
“Oh, nothing,” Angie says, but it’s the kind of “Oh, nothing” that begs for more attention.
I smirk. “Well, you’re going to have to tell us now.”
“Your dad is trying to arrange a date with me and his friend Freddy.” She beams as I want to scream.
I fight my gaze from glaring and decide to look shocked instead.
“Really? He’s hot!” Millie declares.
“Oh, wow. You have to tell us all the details.” I muster. And to remember that Freddy told me he had no interest in other women while he was here.
“Well…your dad asked if giving Freddy my number is okay. I said sure, and then Freddy reached out to me tonight.”
I really want to run to the restroom and cry. Instead, I place a bright smile on my face before I release my tears through laughter. I hold my mouth, knowing my face is turning bright red.
“What’s wrong, Sadie? Something I should know?” Angela asks jokingly as if my laughter is from surprise and happy disbelief rather than pain and damn-near heartbreak.
I know he wants our relationship hidden, which makes perfect sense in this small-minded town, but I didn’t think he had room or desire for anyone else. My heart races, and it feels like my blood is cold.
“No. Freddy’s a really great guy. I just know he’s going through a lot right now. I’m surprised he has room for—”
“Look at her! Angela is a freaking knockout. Of course, he wants a date with her.” Millie rumbles with laughter, and I only want to elbow her.
“Absolutely!” I feel compelled to say. “He’s a great guy. I just know he’s dealing with a lot. At least that’s what my dad says.”
Because, of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that we’ve made love in over a dozen different positions since he’s been at Dartmouth Motel. I’ve been Freddy’s sounding board as much as he’s been mine lately when talking about his son, ex-wife drama, and all my desires about big city life. We have been more best friends than he has been with my dad lately. I even know that he saw my dad earlier today at bowling.
Ugh. Little does anyone know except for Flora. Flora knows something. I hope what she told me last time about Freddy’s feelings still rings true.
“What did he say?” Millie asks.
Angela gives me a closed-mouth smile. “Your dad said the same thing about him. He’s fighting for his kid, huh?”
I nod, placing my eyes back on my paperwork. I try to keep most of my attention there, but it’s hard when Angela starts talking about what Freddy sent her.
“Well, he says he finds me attractive and wants to take me out sometime soon.”
Swallowing stress is hard for me. I scribble my tip-out total and slide my paperwork to Angela. She stands behind the bar with her managerial keys on her wrist. Skimming her over, I have to admit Angela is a pretty woman. Just particularly put together. I can imagine her having an exceptionally organized closet. She’s got that classic librarian demeanor, the docile femininity many men like. She’s not Freddy’s vibe, as far as I can see. But knowing men, her being pretty would typically be enough. Unlike me, she’s naturally obedient without any streak of rebellion. She also wears a full face of “natural” makeup. I don’t think she’s up to the crazy sexcapades that Freddy has put my body through. I’m sure she’d flip out if she saw his wild side. Or, who knows, she could be worse than us. I hope not.
“You like guys with lots of tattoos?” I have to ask.
Angela gives me a mini shrug. “I’ve always looked at tattoos as a sign of the bad-boy type, but that’s probably outdated.”
“But are you attracted to them?”
