“Am I the broccoli, or the French fries?” Jo was pretty sure she knew the answer.
Bea ignored that. “You shouldn’t compare yourself to me. I’m offering something entirely different.”
Jo couldn’t help but smile. “What’s that?”
“Fantasy B. You, my dear, are Fantasy A.”
Jo laughed, despite herself. “You’re something else.”
“In this town, I would have to agree.” Bea reached out and touched one fingertip to Jo’s right ear with its four piercings. “But so are you. Are we going to do the bonding thing now?”
Jo shrugged. “I’m working.”
“No, you’re not. You’ve got a date with my brother.”
Jo shushed her and looked around the bar, waiting for people to start throwing questions—or rotten fruit—in their direction. “Shut up, loudmouth.”
Bea looked insulted for a moment. “I didn’t realize it was a big secret. Are you embarrassed?”
Jo’s eyes closed a moment as she gathered patience. Then she reached in her pocket and handed Bea her set of keys. “This one opens my apartment. Go up there and wait for me.”
Bea raised one brow. “Full disclosure—I have to tell you I’m going to snoop.”
“Just stay out of the nightstand drawer.”
“Done.” Bea trotted easily on high heels out the door. Jo waited to see if any slobbering males would follow like little lambs following Mary, but they managed to resist the urge.
After checking with her night bartender, Jo concluded there was nothing holding her back. Damn it. She headed up the stairs to her own apartment.
Instead of rifling through drawers, Bea was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, waiting.
“Thought you were going to search my things.” Jo headed to her kitchen for a bottle of water. She held it up and shook. “Want?”
“Yes, please.” Bea squealed when Jo tossed it her way. “Watch it!”
“Such a girl.”
Bea picked up the water and rolled her eyes. “If I wanted to be insulted, I would have stayed home and hung out with my sister.” She glanced at her watch, a cute silver sparkly thing that caught the light with every twist of her wrist. “If I’m not mistaken, you don’t have much time to get ready.”
“First off, how do you know I’m going out with your brother?” Trace wouldn’t have said anything. Jo knew that much for certain. She took a sip of water and wondered if Bea had as big a mouth as Jo thought she might have.
Bea shook that off with a smirk. “He was being secretive with his computer time. I went back through the computer history, found the name of the restaurant he looked up, and snooped in his phone to see who he was going out with and when.”
“Could have been a friend,” Jo reasoned.
“Hardly. Not a place like that. He’d go to the diner with Red, or here. Not out of town to a nice place like that.” Bea scowled. “Give me a little credit.”
“Which brings me to my second question, why were you so interested in what your brother was up to?”
“Boredom, mostly.” Bea let one foot swing, lightly kicking the coffee table with her toe.
“You could get a job.” Jo smiled slowly, an idea forming in her mind. “You could serve. I’m sure I can find a few shifts a week for you.”
Bea’s face had Jo doubled over in laughter. “God, the look on your face …” she managed to gasp between hiccups.
“Hilarious, I’m sure.” Bea picked at the edge of her top, smoothing it down, then flipping it over again. “I could be useful.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask so why aren’t you?,but she pulled back. Something in Bea’s eyes told her now wasn’t the time for sarcastic truths.
“I just don’t know where I fit in here,” her friend went on, looking around the apartment rather than at Jo. “I don’t belong here, that’s for sure.”
Jo played silent supporter and sat in her armchair.
“But apparently I don’t belong in Hollywood either. So …” Bea let her shirt drop from her hands. “Where?”
Jo shrugged. “I could tell you where I don’t belong. New York, San Fran, Dallas, Salt Lake—”
Bea laughed. “Right, right. I know. My problem, nobody else’s.” She rubbed her hands together, then threw them apart, like she was clearing the space of negative energy. “Time for something more fun. What are you wearing tonight?”
Jo grimaced. “I haven’t gone out in months. Probably a year. Everything I have is totally out of date.”
Bea smirked. “Honey, if it’s from this decade, Trace won’t notice. They’re not much up on haute fashion here. I’m guessing your years of city living have at least given you some sense of style.”