Bad Girl Reputation (Avalon Bay #2)(49)

“I wasn’t,” she assures me. Then she rolls her eyes. “And even if I was, you’re the last person who should judge. Your love life is a series of bad decisions.”

“Ouch.” I grin. “But true.”

As we laugh, Alana flags down a server and orders a beer. Friday nights are half-price pitchers at the Rip Tide, a deal I would’ve taken full advantage of not so long ago. But I’m drinking a virgin mai tai, which is damn good if I’m being honest. Who knew the taste of virgin cocktails would start growing on me.

“What’s the holdup?” she asks, nodding toward the empty stage. “Weren’t they supposed to go on at nine?”

“Technical difficulties.” About ten minutes ago, one of Jordy’s bandmates came up to the mic to make a vague announcement. Naturally, I’d texted Jordy for more details, and he admitted their steel drum player showed up with a hangover and has been puking backstage since his arrival.

“Technical difficulties?” Alana says knowingly.

“Yeah, as in, Juan is technically having difficulties not projectile-vomiting all the J?gerbombs he inhaled last night.”

She gives a loud snicker, before smoothing out her rumpled hair. “Sorry I look like a scrub. I came straight from the club. I was caddying today and it was so windy. I didn’t have an elastic, so my hair was blowing all over the place.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “I didn’t know you were working at the country club again. What happened to the receptionist gig at the Avalon Bee?”

“I’m doing both.” She rubs her temples, visibly tired. “I’m saving up for a new car because old Betsy’s engine is finally threatening to give out for good. So I called my old boss at The Manor and she gave me a few shifts a week over there. I might be landing a better gig, though—some lady at the club approached me about possibly working as her au pair for the rest of the summer. I guess their current one just up and quit.”

“An au pair? You realize that’s just a fancy word for nanny, right? Also, you hate kids,” I remind her, then snicker at the thought of Alana wrangling a bunch of screaming kids into a minivan. She’d kill them in two days, tops.

“Nah, I can tolerate kids. What I can’t tolerate is caddying for one more pompous jackass. I swear, the group today had four of them and they all took turns offering to buy me expensive shit in exchange for sex.” She snorts. “One said he’d settle for a handy in the bathroom, which was sweet of him.”

“Gross.” I take a sip of my drink. “Speaking of career changes, I had a job interview today with Mackenzie.”

“Yeah? How’d that go?”

“Good, I think. She said she’ll be in touch once she’s done interviewing all the candidates.”

After our server drops off Alana’s beer, she clinks her bottle against my glass. “Cheers, babe. Glad you’re home.”

“Glad to be home.”

“Did you end up reaching Heidi? Her phone kept going to voicemail when I called.”

A sigh slips out. “She’s hanging out with my brother tonight. I think they’re watching a movie at his place with Kellan serving as third wheel.”

“Kinky.”

“Please don’t ever say the word kinky when we’re discussing two of my brothers. Thank you.”

Alana snorts. “I can’t believe she’s still dating Jay. No offense, but Heidi eats guys like him for breakfast.”

“I know, right? But hey, it seems to be working. I guess opposites really do attract.”

We both wince when the screech of microphone feedback pierces through the low murmur of voices in the dive bar. Goodbye, eardrums. Turning to the stage, I see the keyboardist adjusting his mic, while Jordy settles on a stool with his guitar. The other band members take the stage, including a very pale Juan, who staggers toward his drum.

Alana cackles. “Ten bucks says he turns green and runs off the stage after three songs.”

“I say he only lasts two.”

“Deal.”

We’re both wrong. Halfway through the first song—a pretty good Bob Marley cover—poor Juan gags, slaps a hand over his mouth, and practically dives backstage. Laughter breaks out in the bar, along with several loud whistles and some applause.

“Looks like we got a bird down,” Mase, the smooth-voiced lead singer, drawls into the mic. “But don’t you worry, my little pelicans, we’re gonna keep chirping without him.”

Did I mention Jordy’s band is called Three Little Birds? Without fail, every one of their sets involves an obscene amount of bird references and incredibly unfunny fowl puns.

“Hey, girlies,” says a familiar voice, and then our friend Lauren sidles up to us. She leans down to smack a kiss on my cheek. “We still on for lunch next week?” she asks me.

“Absolutely. It’s been ages since we had a proper catch-up.” We’ve known Ren since grade school, but she’s been joined at the hip with Wyatt these past few years. She’s one of those chicks who disappears when she has a boyfriend and then comes slinking back whenever they’re on a break. Or over for good, which seems to be the case this time.

Still, Ren’s good people. She’s hilarious and always has your back.

Which is why I’m slightly confused by Alana’s reaction to our friend. After a lackluster hello, Alana busies herself by studying the label on her bottle, as if she’s never actually read the ingredients in a Corona before and must know what they are. Right now.