Rusty Nailed (Cocktail, #2)(20)

“Hell, no. Mama’s got a date after we feed you.” She grinned, handing me a bag.

“Mei Fun?”

“Someone’s gonna have some fun tonight, that’s for sure.” She winked, sauntering past me. “Don’t eat all the wontons, you little shit!”

Mimi yelled something back to her, but it was muffled by something in her mouth. My money was on the wonton. I locked the front door, shaking my head as I followed my two friends into my office.

Ten minutes later we were all sprawled across the floor cross-legged, with plates piled high with delicious food. Noodles, panfried shrimp, crispy pot stickers, spicy sautéed vegetables; it was a feast. Chopsticks were passed and we dug in.

“This sure as hell beats the burrito I was going to eat.” I sighed, my mouth full of delicately seasoned noodles.

“Since we knew you were gonna be here late, we thought the least we could do is bring you dinner,” Mimi responded, offering me an egg roll.

Sophia intercepted it, wielding it like a megaphone. “Oh, please, it was so I could tell you all about my new boy toy. You’re impossible to get ahold of, lady, and I needed to dish!”

I grabbed my own egg roll and spoke directly into the megaphone end of it. “So dish.”

Sophia told us all about the new guy she’d met at the gym. Once she decided she was officially moving on and looking for love (read, a date to Jillian’s wedding), she left no stone unturned. And this stone happened to be an insurance salesman. Car, life, you name it, he sold it. Hmmm.

“And let me just tell you, he is F-I-N-E fine. Tall, dark, and handsome, he is seriously sinful,” she gloated. “I’m gonna have the hottest date there.”

“Did she just quote a line from Grease?” Mimi asked me.

“Pretty sure she did. Let’s just hope this guy’s name isn’t Cha Cha,” I replied.

“His name is Barry, and he’s great,” Sophia insisted.

“As in Gibb?” I asked.

“As in White?” Mimi chimed in.

“As in Derry,” Sophia said through clenched teeth.

“Wait a minute, hold up. Stop everything. His name is Barry—” I started.

“—Derry?” Mimi finished.

We collapsed on the floor howling amid chopsticks and soy packets.

“Silence, whores, silence. Besides, Reynolds, you dated a guy named James motherf*cking Brown,” Sophia snapped back.

“I sure did. That’s fantastic compared to Barry Derry,” I cried, wiping tears from my eyes. Which was a terrible idea, as I still had hot mustard on my fingertips. “Shit!”

“Serves you right,” Sophia said, handing me a stack of napkins.

Mimi was still chortling, muttering something about him being hairy, and I gave her an elbow to the ribs.

Through my mustard haze I saw that Sophia was putting on a brave face, but this wedding wasn’t going to be easy for her. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Neil either. I had a recurring fantasy where I accosted him by the cake stand and make him choke on fondant. I smiled encouragingly. “I’m sure he’s great, sweetie. We can’t wait to meet him.”

We were all quiet for a moment.

Mimi cleared her throat, ready to change the subject. “When is Simon getting back?”

“Thursday night,” I answered, then remembered my news. “Hey, I forgot to tell you! Guess who’s house-sitting over in Sausalito?”

They both shrieked; we all loved Jillian’s house. Especially the hillevator.

“That’s gonna be so much fun. What did Simon say?” Mimi asked.

“Simon says it’ll be boring out there, but Caroline says too bad. That house is a f*cking rock star—who wouldn’t want to stay out there? Plus it’s so close to the Claremont, it’ll be nice to have a home base over there. And I don’t think we’re going to spend every night there, just some.”

“Look at you two, playing house. Isn’t that sweet,” Sophia remarked, earning a glare from Mimi. “All I’m saying is what you guys have now is great. Together but not. Separate but equal. It gets all f*cked up when you start buying furniture together.”

“Says the girl who moved in with Neil not even six months into the relationship,” Mimi pointed out.

“Says the girl who is no longer with Neil,” Sophia responded, waving her chopsticks in the air.

“But that’s not why you broke up. Living together had nothing to do with it. You two had the best time living together—don’t try and tell me you didn’t.”

“Sure, we had a great time. But it was too soon. Separate but equal—all I’m saying,” she said, picking a bamboo shoot from her cleavage.

This was getting into sticky territory. And I don’t just mean the cleavage.

“Okay, well, thanks for the advice, kids, but Simon and I aren’t moving in together. We’re house-sitting. And taking advantage of a killer house in which we will have the sexy times. So there,” I finished.

The stack of paperwork on my desk was calling my name and I sighed, nabbed one more shrimp, then started closing up containers. The girls followed suit, making me keep the leftovers so I’d have something for lunch tomorrow. “You guys didn’t have to do this, but I’m glad you did.”