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“No, silly. Beckett asked me out and I have nothing to wear.”
She tilts her head to the side. “I gather this isn’t business related?”
I tell her the whole story.
“That’s exactly what you need!” Phoebe says. “You won’t be able to spell Chance’s name by the end of the evening. Same for Slut Mariah.”
“I shouldn’t admit this, but I’m dying to do something crazy,” I tell her. “I’m tired of being so regimented. Slut Mariah used to take pleasure in mocking my disciplined life. That’s what gave her the upper leg. Remember? Chance kept singing her praises for being so fun, bubbly, and lighthearted. I want to be the fun one for once… even if it’s only for one night.”
“Puh-lease!” My best friend rolls her eyes. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to trashy-extension-wearing Mariah. That would be lowering yourself, and I won’t hear of it. She’s not fun. She’s vapid. And easy. Chance wasn’t talking about her personality. He was talking about her vagina—her very well used vagina.” The way Phoebe stretches out the words is hilarious. “Am I right or am I right?”
I explode in laughter at the expression of disgust contorting Phoebe’s face.
“You won’t get an argument from me,” I say. “I really need this night out.”
“I totally agree.”
“I can’t thank Beckett enough. He’s the perfect man for operation ‘forget Chance and his slut’.”
“Speaking of perfect, what about Rhys?” Phoebe asks.
“What about him?”
“Weren’t you considering a ménage with both attractive men?”
“That’s how fake news starts!” I say.
She laughs.
“They’re my clients. Beckett is being a gentleman by not allowing me to wallow in self-pity. That’s it.”
“In other words, Beckett is the chosen one.”
“Are you not listening?”
“Both blue-eyed gods are scorching hot, but I’m willing to bet every dollar to my name Beckett is edgier, more imperious, and more domineering. Turbulent, even.”
Leave it to Phoebe to come up with shit like this.
“Turbulent? This isn’t a flight on his private jet.”
“Perhaps, but I bet he can get you off. HELLO!”
“Why are we friends again?”
“Hear me out. I’m onto something here.” She’s undeterred. She scares me when she’s like this. “You don’t have to sleep with sexy Beckett—although I would fully support you if you did let him dip his cock into your pussy because God knows you need a really good fuck—”
“Seriously, Phoebe?”
“Make sure to landscape before your date—”
“It’s not a date! It’s dinner—”
“Whatever you say. My point being, throw caution to the wind. Live a little! Get crazy with the bad boy!” She stands up. “You know, Livin’ la Vida Loca.” She actually gyrates her hips.
“What is wrong with you? Is it something they put in the water in Australia? Because I swear to God, you have a screw loose.”
She laughs as she sits back down. “Sue me for being excited that my bestie is finally getting some.”
