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“I can hear you.” And the other two hundred people in the background. “Elvie, where are you?”
“I can’t hear you. Gwen?”
“Go somewhere else, Elvie. It’s too loud. If you can’t hear me, it’s too loud there.”
The line goes dead.
I take a deep, slow breath. My head throbs. Holy fucking hell. He dropped me. Elvie— He does this to his parents sometimes! It’s the faux dropped call. I invented that, at least in our world. I used to use it when my crazy Aunt Maurine would call, when we were sophomores.
Holy fucking shit.
I’m so distraught, I sit down and pee, without re-realizing there’s no toilet paper.
“ARGHHHH!”
So what to wipe with? I massage my temples. Sometimes there’s a hand towel on the counter… Nope. Not right now. Ugh. I could use a sock. Ewwww. Gross! I spot Jamie’s makeup bag. Hells yes! She sometimes has a little pack of Kleenex in her makeup bag, to blot her liquid eyeliner. I lunge up off the toilet, grab the bag, and—SCORE!
I finish taking care of business. By the time I step into Jamie’s room, I’m haunted anew by what just happened with Elvie. What the hell is going on with him? Is he seeing another girl? Or is he just drunk and surrounded by fan girls and doesn’t want to risk one of them saying something that would piss me off?
I wander into two other guest rooms, looking for toilet paper, then go upstairs to the home theater. I find Jamie by herself.
“Just you?” I ask, as I walk nearer to her.
“Oh.” She turns to me. “Yeah, Nic left right after you did. Apparently there’s some—” she drops her volume— “family drama. His mom or dad went somewhere. Something. He left in his car instead of walking next door. Which I know,” she rolls her eyes, “because I watched him from the window like a stalker.”
I smile. “See this scarf? I’m sniffing it.”
“Ohh, what does it smell like?” She leans closer, and I hold it up.
“Nope. All mine.” I inhale. “It’s man-smell.”
“Sweat and dirty laundry?” She arches a flawlessly plucked eyebrow.
“No.” I swat her. “You’re so unromantic. Man-smell like…pheromones.”
Jamie, the bitch, throws her head back and actually howls. Like a wolf. At a full moon.
“Pheromones!” She points her flawless, red, bitch nail at me as if I’m naked on stage at a middle school play.
I wrap the scarf more tightly around my neck and cross my arms. “They’re real, you know. I didn’t make them up. This man has excellent pheromones. I can tell.”
“And what’s his name again?”
I blink and cast my gaze up to the ceiling. “I’m not telling,” I say peevishly. And then I feel embarrassed, because maybe I really am insane, and I also don’t want to fall into talking about what happened with Elvie, so I change the subject fast. “I feel like we may be out of toilet paper? Is that even possible with—”
“We are. I wiped with the hand cloth earlier.”
“I looked for that.”
“I stashed it underneath the sink. Nic was in my room.”
“Sexxxy.”
She fans her face. “I know, right?”
“So is he coming back?”
“He said he was, yeah.”
