“I got it!” I holler, red-faced. I don’t know who any of those people are, but I know how the gossip line works, and how fast a juicy bit of news burns through it.
“Sorry. I know it sucks. If it’s any consolation, nobody knows about you two.”
I groan. “I’m not worried about me—I’m worried about him! What will this do to his business? Will people treat him differently? How’s he going to feel, knowing everyone’s judging him and talking behind his back?”
“Probably the same way he’s felt for the last few years while they’ve been doing it.”
I groan again, miserable at the thought of Theo being subjected to stares and whispers.
Suzanne pats my arm. “Believe it or not, everyone’s pulling for him. Maybe this will turn out to be a good thing. He’s needed to get help for a long time.”
I stew in silence for several minutes, until Suzanne asks tentatively, “So, um, did you ever go to his house?”
I exhale in a gust. “God, I feel like such a jerk for doing that. I hope he doesn’t have security cameras. The last thing the poor man needs is the woman he’s having random booty calls with creeping around his property like a total lunatic.”
I fail to mention all the drive-bys, but Suzanne makes me feel bad enough for the one visit I admit to by saying, “Yeah. Let’s hope he’s never seen the movie Fatal Attraction.”
I say sourly, “Thanks.”
“About those booty calls—”
“No.”
“No, you’re not talking about them, or no, there haven’t been any more than the two you weren’t talking about in the first place?”
“Both.”
She sighs. “Bummer.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Any idea when you’ll see him again?”
“No.”
“What does he say about it when you ask him?”
“I don’t ask him. He isn’t responding to emails, and his phone is turned off. Plus, I sort of set up this don’t ask, don’t tell situation regarding our relationship.” When she stares at me cockeyed, it’s my turn to sigh. “These things always sound better inside my head than they do out loud.”
Suzanne is beginning to look disturbed. “So…what? You just have to wait for him to show up?”
“Basically.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, we can’t have that! You’re not some ditzy Disney princess, wasting all your pretty years pining for your knight in shining denim!” She thinks for a moment. “What if you sent him a letter at Acadia?”
“Is that what you’d do?”
She scoffs. “Oh hell, no, honey, I’d already have broken into the damn place and chewed through his underwear.”
“Of course you would.” I pull into the parking lot at Booger’s, stop in front of a valet stand, and we head inside.
Booger’s is packed. It’s wall-to-wall zombies and witches, ghosts and pirates, fairies and vampires. A few Star Wars and Marvel comics characters round out the mix. Everyone is laughing and mingling, crowding the dance floor, guzzling drinks. Suzanne drags me through the crush to a table on the far side of the room, near the temporary bar that’s been erected in one corner to handle the overflow of guests. It’s manned by a guy dressed as the Joker in a bright purple suit. I want to give him my wig.
I also want to leave.
It’s too packed, too loud, and my social anxiety is kicking in with a vengeance. Why the hell did I agree to this? I hate parties.
“Oh no,” says Suzanne, examining my expression. “You’re not going anywhere, girlfriend. Sit your ass down in that chair and pretend to enjoy yourself. I’m gonna get a drink—what do you want?”
“Ginger ale.”
She pushes me into a chair and heads off to the Joker, trailing wisps of gauze like snow. The instant she leaves, a man lowers himself into the chair opposite mine.
It’s Craig.
He’s the only other person in the place in normal clothes, in his case, tan slacks and a black cashmere sweater. His hair is perfect. His smile is perfect. His eyes are as hungry as a crocodile’s.
I grit my teeth in disbelief at how much the universe loves to fuck with me. “What’re you doing here?”
“You’ve been avoiding my calls.”
“So true. Funny how I wouldn’t want to talk to a lying, philandering dick.”
If he’s surprised by my hostility, he doesn’t show it. “How am I a liar?”
“Go away.”
“Or a philanderer?”
“Are you hearing impaired? I said go away.”
A muscle flexes in his jaw. “At least give me the courtesy of an explanation. When I dropped you at your place after we had dinner, I thought everything was great. I thought we had a real connection.”