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“So, I reminded him that he called me a sociopath. He said that I terrify him.”
Amber pressed her lips together. “Oh dear.”
“What is so damn funny?”
“I don’t know, exactly. You are kind of a handful—in an amazing way. I mean, you decided to face off with your stalker. You juggle men like a circus performer and seem to glide through life unfazed. I don’t know, I kind of sympathize with him.”
I crossed my arms. “It’s irritating that he wants me to fit some kind of feminine mold. I’m fine with who I am.”
She nodded decisively at me. “That’s right. You’re da bomb.”
My mouth quirked up. “Thanks, hot stuff.”
The next day I walked down the driveway and talked to the lingering people waiting to snap my picture. I smiled, dressed in one of my funky dresses with boots and a hat, and posed with Charley—who was killing it in his doggie outfit and bow tie collar—and gave vague answers to their pointed questions. Even made one of them laugh. After they’d clicked their enormous cameras at me and I’d walked up my drive, they left.
The PR company and I had been busy that week and the attention was lessening and fading out. I wasn’t a mystery anymore.
“Forest is barbecuing tonight,” Layla called from the upstairs sofa where she was working on her laptop.
“Antonio too,” I said. “I was shopping for gas firepits today. Wood burning is too smoky.”
“Yay,” she said. “We can roast marshmallows.”
That night, the house finally seemed back to normal. Dillan set up a poker table, and most of us played cards. Kate had a few friends over who got stoned with her and then spent time with her and Antonio inside the steam room, naked.
I’d just stood up from the poker table, twenty dollars poorer, when a call from Amber lit up my phone.
“Hey, shug,” I said, bending over Charley, inside his enclosure, and attaching his leash. “Are you on your date?”
“Oh my God,” Amber said, panting. “I can’t even…”
Charley and I walked toward the side yard. “You okay? What happened?”
“He’s here.”
“Your date? Mr. Sandy everything?”
“No. Yes—crap. I can’t even talk.” She lowered her voiceto a whisper. “I’m hiding in the women’s. It’s super small and awkward in here.”
“Step outside?”
“He’s out there watching the door like a hawk. Wants to talk. Oh, my freaking God, I can’t believe this.”
“Who’s out there?”
“Mario.”
My mouth opened. Probably a good thing she couldn’t see me grinning. “Oh, him.”
“Oh, him? Sally. He catfished me. I don’t know if I want to yell at him or run out the door.”
“Right. Those are your options.”
She was banging on something. “I don’t know what to do.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, I think he really wants to talk to you.”
“Yeah.” She huffed.
