“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I slowly say. “What else would he be talking about?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Other things happened that day.”
I don’t know what to say. The conversation just took a crazy twist.
Dana drops her feet to the floor. “I won’t tell anyone. You have my promise. You wanna go to lunch? I heard that new Mexican place around the corner is really good.”
“Sure.”
Deflated, I grab my bag from the hook. I still don’t get why Dana even doubts Mr. Mulroney propositioned me. Is it because I’m nothing like the two other women I saw him with? They were both voluptuous, with full faces of makeup and a maturity to them I don’t possess. In contrast, I feel like a shy kid with my sneakers and backpack.
Thinking about it for the first time, it really doesn’t make sense that Mr. Mulroney would be interested in me for even the most casual sex.
But I know what he said.
It doesn’t matter.
I only told Dana about any of this because I wanted her to validate my negative feelings. I’m at least that aware of my behavior. I was hoping she would confirm my suspicion of Mr. Mulroney being a womanizer.
Because, honestly, right now I really need him to be. After the intense moment in his office, the only thing that can save my sanity is the reminder that the man is a class-A jerk.
I follow Dana out the door, mentally running down a list of all the shitty things he’s done. The way he snapped at me after our first exchange in the parking lot. The offer to engage in sex with him. The sneer he seems to wear half of the time.
Once I’ve run out of negative things to list, I’m shit out of luck, because all that’s left are the good things. The way his eyes light up when he smiles. The assertive way he carried the conversation with Mr. Murakami. The surge of pleasure that hit me when our hands touched.
And here I am, back on the same old merry-go-round.
CHAPTER FIVE
“How many times are you going to check your hair?” Crystal asks from where she leans in the bathroom doorway.
I take another bobby pin from the right side and re-pin the hair there, then smooth my bangs down. “I’m not going to answer that.”
“You look fine. You look amazing, actually. You’re the best piece of art I’ve ever produced,” she says, referring to her makeup job on me.
“I don’t feel fine.”
My stomach does another cartwheel, threatening to send the pizza we ordered in for dinner back up.
“I don’t know why,” Eryk says from over Crystal’s shoulder as he walks across the living room. “He’s not that cute.”
“That’s not true,” I snap.
“Relax. It’s not a reflection on you. He’s your ex-boyfriend.”
I’m about to tell him to shut it, but he’s already gone down the hall and into his bedroom.
“Are you nervous?” Crystal asks.
I turn from the mirror to face her. “Kind of. But it’s stupid. Brendan and I haven’t seen each other in a whole year. Everything is different.”
“Of course,” she agrees, her face betraying nothing about what she really thinks.
I lower my voice. “I don’t really want to go to this club.”
Crystal didn’t even blink at my change of subjects and sneaks a look over her shoulder to make sure Eryk isn’t near. “We don’t have to stay all night,” she whispers. “We’ll just see Brian do his thing, then leave.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’ve already seen Brian’s thing.”
She snorts into her hand. “Yeah, but he wasn’t dancing in a cage.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror. “I can use my imagination.”
Giggling, she leans closer and whispers. “Was it hard when you saw it?”
I pretend to gag. “I’m not going to answer that.”
“Ugh. There’s nothing I hate more than a soft penis.”
Shaking my head at her humor, I hit the bathroom lights and head for the front door.
“Eryk!” Crystal calls. “Are you ready?”
He hurries out into the living room, pulling a fresh shirt over his head while he walks. “Ready. Whose car are we taking?”
“Sydney’s,” Crystal automatically says.
“Hey. Why mine?”
“Because mine smells like the bleach that spilled in it last week.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ew. Okay. Let’s go.”
We cram into my little car, and Eryk immediately starts playing with the radio.
“You have to give me directions,” I remind him.
“Chill. I will.”
Parking is hard to find, even on a Wednesday night. We end up in a parking garage a good quarter mile from the club. My heart ferociously pounds while we head down the street, trying to beat its way up and out of my throat.