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Actually, I’m six minutes early. “Late” to Angus has nothing to do with agreed-upon times and everything to do with when he happened to arrive.
“Sorry,” I say because that’s easier and more effective than arguing or, heaven forbid, pointing to the clock.
Not good enough. Angus jeers, “Getting in your morning snuggles with Sullivan?”
It used to bother me when he’d act like this. But there’s something incredibly powerful in holding a secret of my own. Nothing he says gets to me in quite the same way when I know I hold the trump card.
“Yup,” I say blithely. “Sully loves to spoon.”
Angus’ scowl is perversely thrilling. I’m really starting to love pissing off my boss.
“You’re in bright and early,” I remark. “I guess that means Jessicaisn’ta fan of spooning.”
His face falls in a way that’s kind of tragic. “Not really,” he says in a small voice.
Jessica is so mean to Angus, I could almost pity him—if I didn’t remember what an ass he was to the rest of his girlfriends, not to mention his ex-wives.
Jessica and Angus play the exact same game; she’s just better at it.
Angus asks, “Are you coming to her listening party?”
“What night is it?”
I’m stalling, trying to come up with an excuse why I cannot possibly attend this event. Sullivan might welcome the chance to mock Jessica’s almost-certainly horrific debut album, but I would prefer to stay far away from Angus’ girlfriend until they break up. Which should be any minute now.
“Sunday,” Angus says.
“Ooh, I wish I could, but?—“
“I need you there,” he says flatly. “To make sure everything runs smoothly. Jessica’s really counting on this party to turn heads. Her single hasn’t been doing quite as well on Spotify as she hoped.”
“Oh no…” I say while making a mental note to tell Sully he doesn’t even have to attend this party to enjoy the warbling beauty of Jessica’s “gilded soul.”
“Tell Martinique I need her there by four o’clock to wrangle the caterers.”
“You got it.”
I hustle off to give Martinique the shit news, feeling guilty because that’s exactly the sort of job that would usually be assigned to me.
“It’s fine,” she sighs. “I don’t have any plans this weekend anyway. I broke up with Raymond.”
“Which one was Raymond?”
Martinique has a new boyfriend every other week. I haven’t heard much about this one because we haven’t been chatting as often since I’ve been staying at Sullivan’s place. Mostly because I can’t tell her any of the things I want to tell her.
“He’s the orthodontist,” Martinique says. “And that was the entire problem—he wouldnotstop telling me how pretty I’d be if I fixed my teeth.”
Martinique has the sort of incisors that turn in slightly, and they happen to be fucking adorable. I want to drive to Dr. Raymond’s office and write something nasty across his windows. Something like,How dare you try to improve my flawless friend!But that probably wouldn’t fit—I’m not very good at graffiti. Or writing “Happy Birthday!” in a card without squishing in the last three letters.
“Well, he’s clearly insane.”
Martinique laughs. “I mean, they are crooked.”
“So what? Who wants Chiclet teeth? Your smile is gorgeous!”
Martinique gives me a sideways hug, laying her head on my shoulder. “Can I hire you to follow me around and hype me up?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what Angus already hired me to do.”
