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I pick up my phone and find a message from him. I’ve since saved his number in my contacts with a title befitting the man in question.
Stalker Boy:
Thank you.
That’s it?Thank you?What the hell is he thanking me for? And what on earth do I say to that?
I have no ideawhatto say to that, so I don’t say anything at all. Instead, I type out a message to Shar.
Me:
We’re getting white girl wasted today. Prepare yourself for a night of fun! We are going out and we are letting our hair down!!!
Shar:
Sounds like a plan. I’ll come to yours around five. Pre-drinks are a MUST.
I smile. I knew I could rely on my best friend to give me the distraction I needed.
* * *
We’re a few drinks in,sitting in a bar on Chapel Street. “Here’s to bad decisions that lead to good times,” I scream over the pumping music while holding up my vodka soda.
Shar clinks her glass with mine. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around, LuLu. You always come up with the best ideas.” Her head tips back and she laughs, the sound loud. Carefree.
“You know what I hate about men?” I blurt out.
“They stink?” Shar offers.
“No, Dominic McKinley, that is what I hate about men,” I say.
“Really? What is it that you hate about him?” she asks.
“Everything, his perfect face, those perfect pecs, and the drawings up his arms that I want to lick. Argh, he’s so awful, Shar. Like seriously the worst human ever.” I screw up my face at all his annoyingly perfect perfectness.
“Sounds like he’s a dream. Maybe give him my number.” She lifts her eyebrows up and down, and I frown at her.
“He’s also a stalker, like an obsessed psychopath.” I sigh dramatically.
“Wait… what do you mean? Are you scared that he’ll do something to you, Lucy? Because we can get a restraining order or something.” Shar straightens her back, immediately on the offensive. Like she’s ready and willing to fight for me.
“What? No, he’d never hurt me. He just wants toconsumeme.” I laugh.
What does that even mean? How does one consume another?
“Well, gee, that’s reassuring,” Shar says.
“We need more drinks. And more dancing,” I announce while jumping to my feet. I wiggle my finger at Shar, gesturing for her to follow my lead.
After a lot more drinks and much more dancing, we stumble out of the bar arm in arm. I point up the road. “Tim should be just up here.” I was sober enough a few hours ago to schedule my driver to pick us up.
Once we’re both in the back of the car, Tim turns his head to face us. “Where to, Miss Lucy?” he asks.
“Linlithgow Road, Toorak,” I tell him, a devious plan just coming to mind. This might be the best idea I’ve ever had. Or the worst. Either way, I’m all in.
“Wait, that’s not your address, LuLu,” Shar states the obvious.
“I know. We’re going on a little McKinley adventure,” I tell her.
