God, he was infuriating.
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
Like I said before, I’M FINE.
The nickname is ridiculous and offensive, and the substitution is even worse—which only proves that you are, in fact, an asshole.
To: Lola Sexton
From: Reed Luca
Putting the word “fine” in shouty capitals is a bit ironic, don’t you think?
Just tell me you’re not badly injured. You might think I’m an asshole, but I do actually want to know that you’re okay.
And offensive? Please enlighten me on how the nickname Roller Skates is offensive. I am extremely curious to hear your thoughts on this.
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
In the spirit of being nice, I actually am fine. Just a little banged up, but thanks for asking.
And Roller Skates is offensive because you are cruelly reminding me of my little public display of clumsy.
To: Lola Sexton
From: Reed Luca
That’s not why I chose the nickname. I only mentioned the substitution because you so vehemently opposed this one.
Goddammit. He did that on purpose. He wanted me to ask him why he chose the nickname. That’s why he said that. It’s baiting material.
Just don’t respond.
Don’t. Respond.
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
Why’d you choose it?
I was pathetic.
To: Lola Sexton
From: Reed Luca
Because I like your roller skates. You’re fucking adorable in them.
How in the hell was I supposed to respond to that?
And, why did I like those last five words so much?
I really was pathetic.
But my response didn’t matter, because a minute later, he sent another email.
To: Lola Sexton
From: Reed Luca
Before I write my column for the week, would you like to hear my thoughts on yours?
Oh, yeah, sure thing, buddy. That sounds absolutely lovely.
Like I wanted to hear his ridiculous point of view on why my column this week pissed him off and all of the reasons why he completely disagreed with it. It sounded about as enticing as a reenactment of my crash and burn outside the grocery store with him and Simone as witnesses.
Did he think I was some sort of masochist?
Thanks, but no thanks.
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
As amazing as that sounds, I’m going to have to pass. I have plans for the evening and need to start getting ready.
To: Lola Sexton
From: Reed Luca
Big date? More research for your column with unsuspecting men?
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
More like dinner, drinks, and dancing with a few girlfriends.
Not that it’s any of your business.
To: Lola Sexton
From: Reed Luca
Well, have fun, Roller Skates.
Try to stay on your feet.
Ugh. Roller Skates. He didn’t give up. I hated how much I admired his persistence.
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
Thanks. I hope you have a wonderful (read as horrible) night.
:)
Four hours later, I had successfully made some notes for next week’s column, taken a shower—which, when your life revolves around writing from home, is a big deal—and fixed my hair and makeup. I had forgone my normal uniform of tanks and jean shorts and settled for something a little more appropriate for a night on the town.
Mostly, I had on my favorite pair of sparkly Louboutins, which meant that the rest of my outfit didn’t fucking matter because yeah, Louboutins.
I only had one pair, and even though I had maxed out a credit card to purchase them, when I looked down at these pretty babies on my feet, I couldn’t have cared less about finances and credit scores. They were sparkly and shiny and worth the financial burden.
“I fucking love those shoes, Lola,” Abby called over the club music, staring down at my feet. “Seriously, how much did you pay for those?”
“Too much,” I responded and took a sip from my glass of wine.
Abby grinned.
“Let’s take a shot and then head up to the third floor and dance our asses off,” Jen exclaimed, and before I could offer a rebuttal to that plan, she was headed in the direction of the bar.
Abby cheered her approval, and I bit back my groan. I wasn’t opposed to dancing, but tonight, my ass was real fucking against it. That was the thing about injuring your tailbone, it took a good week before things like dancing and running and sitting felt normal again.
Five minutes later, Jen slid a shot in front of me and held hers up in the air. “What are we cheers-ing to tonight?”
“What about that guy Lola hates?” Abby tossed out with a smirk.
My eyes narrowed in her direction. “Why in the hell would we cheers to him?”
Abby just shrugged in response.
“How about…to us?” Jen asked and I nodded.
“That’s a better plan.”