“I’m not defending him.” Andy shifted her eyes as if just realizing that she had indeed been defending her boss. “I just think there are two sides to every story.”
Not this story. Jay stared at Andy until the other girl dropped her eyes. She popped a cracker in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed the whole thing.
Lacy prodded her on. “So did you call him on it?”
Jay followed her cracker with a swallow of wine. “What do you think? I mean, I’m at a freaking loss here. Do I tell him that I feel he was being rude, or do I allow him to play the manly card and order me around a little?”
“My guess is, your feminist ass wanted to call him out, but you didn’t want to reflect badly on my big, dumb sister. Am I right?”
Jay touched her nose again with the bingo sign. “Pretty much nailed it.”
Lacy plucked a few victorious strings and laughed. “Did he order your food for you, too?”
“Um, yes. He very thoughtfully chose a large garden salad with grilled chicken for me. Oil and vinegar on the side. He himself enjoyed a prime rib and a lobster tail. Medium well. Like an asshole. You’re gonna spend that much money on a piece of meat and then have them cook all the flavor out?” Jaylene’s eyes flashed.
Andy looked up from her scribbling. “Some people just don’t like bloody meat, Jay. And look at you. You’re teeny tiny. He probably figured you lived on vegetables.” She lowered her eyes. “Besides, some women would think that a man taking care of her is sweet.”
Archaic was more like it. “Andy, seriously. What is this about? Do you have a thing for this guy?”
“No! I told you—I have a decent amount of investment in him getting future dates.”
“It seems the lady doth protest too much.” Jay smirked.
Lacy grinned. “I know, right?”
Andy’s jaw dropped. “Lacy! You know how I feel about the asshat.”
Her sister shrugged.
“So you admit he’s an asshat.” Jay found a certain amount of satisfaction with that, at least.
“Like I said, his social skills need finesse. But there’s someone for everyone. Even the asshats. I just have to find someone to take this one.” Andy ran a hand through her long auburn curls. “So, could you please just tell me what happened next?”
A part of Jay wanted to argue with Andy, not just because she doubted that there was a match for Blake Donovan, but because she also questioned whether there might really be a match for her.
But that was a mess of a conversation that she didn’t want to start. Not when she had to work at seven in the morning. “Fine.” After another sip of wine, she continued on with the telling of her horrid date. “I was beside myself trying to come up with conversation with the man. We have practically no shared interests. He works out in a gym, by the way. No rough-terrain running. Which is lame, but anyhoo.” She watched as Andy noted that. “So I turned to the one and only thing any red-blooded Bostonian can discuss in the summer—I asked him what he thought about the Sox’s chances for the Series this year.”
“Totes what I would have done!” Lacy contributed from the corner where she did appear to be writing an actual song based on Jay’s date.
“He smirked. He smirked at me.”
“Hmm.” Andy didn’t seem surprised by this.
Jaylene sat forward in her seat. “And he said, ‘I just bet you’re a fan.’ Naturally, that pissed me off. Maybe even more than him not understanding that to keep this teeny tiny bod, as you call it, I require more than rabbit food for the miles I run a day. So I was like ‘What does that mean?’ with my sweetest smile. And he said, ‘It’s pretty obvious I’m not your type.’”
“Well, he’s right. You aren’t. I’m sorry, Jay.” Andy capped off the drinks, emptying the bottle.
“Andrea Dawson, I am not his type. And I haven’t the slightest clue why you thought that I might be, but I can tell you that he was convinced from the get-go that he wasn’t my type because of his false assumption that I am into women. I am loud and proud about my feelings on equal pay for equal work. I protested in the streets for marriage equality. But for some rich asshole to tell me what my sexual preferences are—that’s just such a typical chauvinistic viewpoint.”
“Blake, um, sort of prides himself on his intuition. No one has the heart to tell him he is wrong in everything but business. He just gets so … childlike and excited when he thinks he’s nailed someone. It’s cute,” Andy said, a half smile on her face.
“Well, I didn’t find it cute at all. So I’m a girl who drinks beer and enjoys sports. Why can’t that just be something that a blue-collar girl, born and raised in Massachusetts, might enjoy? Oh, no, this patriarchal alpha male immediately assumes that instead of being someone who could challenge and equal him, I must be someone who wishes to be him. Like a penis somehow equals success.”