Girl Crush(39)



“It looked like a perfect medium. What was wrong with it?” I asked as I stuffed chicken into my mouth, chewing so fast I didn’t taste anything.

She leaned in with a devious grin on her face. “Oh, it was perfectly cooked. But if you complain enough, the meal gets comped.”

“Heather, that’s horrible. What if that girl has to pay for that food?” My mouth hung open with a chewed glob still sitting on my tongue.

“Giselle, sweetie, close your mouth. Trust me, I worked as a waitress for years. Neither of those are things she could help. She won’t eat the cost.” She waved me off like my concern was preposterous. “Plus, restaurants gouge their customers. They likely only have a couple dollars in the whole thing.”

I finished the bite I’d been gnawing on and swallowed hard. “Do you do this often?”

“Once a week or so. But never at the same restaurant twice. They’d catch on.”

She reached over to the sweetener and grabbed the entire stash to toss into her purse—I assumed with the mints. Either this girl was cheap as hell, or a hoarder, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. When the waitress cleared our dinner plates, Heather ordered dessert. I refused any and wondered if she planned to eat it or stash it for another time. She ate every bite while I sipped the last of my wine, watching her in awe-struck wonder for her Academy Award-winning performance.

I’d been rendered speechless. The moment I saw a figure out of the corner of my eye standing at our table, I assumed it was the manager who’d come to grovel at Heather’s feet. But when I turned my head, there stood none other than my ex-husband and the girl he’d left me for dripping from his arm. I took a deep breath, hoping my exasperation would send him packing, but he stood there, waiting for an acknowledgment of some sort.

Sadly, Heather gave it to him. “Hey,” she piped up.

Chris nodded at her before addressing me. “Fancy seeing you here, Giselle. Who’s your friend?”

I raced to get the words out, but Heather beat me to it, shoving her hand in his direction. “Heather. Giselle’s date. And you are?”

“Your date?” His voice boomed through the restaurant loudly enough that people turned to stare. “You’ve resorted to chasing pussy? What happened, you burn through the entire population of eligible men in this town?”

This couldn’t get any worse.

As he and his girlfriend decided to keep walking, I overheard her say, “She’s a hag, Chris. Why were you ever with someone so old?”

The manager showed up, but it could have been to deal with Heather or my unruly ex-husband who’d chosen to cause a scene and leave. I was at the end of my rope. But instead of addressing me, he spoke to the bright-eyed girl across the table. Heather had been right. He comped the entire meal while she played victim to their “horrible service by the kitchen and bar.” It was a good thing he hadn’t looked to me. I wouldn’t have been able to lie to the man. As it was, I didn’t think I could stand another ten minutes in her presence to get her home.

Before he left, I insisted my food be put on a separate bill. I refused to steal from these people or walk out without leaving the girl who’d spent two hours serving us a tip. Heather demonstrated her disapproval but wisely didn’t speak against me while we were still inside.

She tried to take my hand as we exited, but I stuffed it into my pocket to avoid contact. Once in the car, she wrongfully assumed it was safe territory to question me.

“Why didn’t you take the free meal, Giselle?” Her concern left me feeling a strange void I’d never experienced.

“That’s just not my thing. I don’t buy things I can’t afford. I don’t scam people. I don’t steal. My laundry list of faults is a mile long, but none of those things are on it. And I don’t hang out with people who think any of what just happened is acceptable. Had you driven, I would have called a friend and left.” I wasn’t trying to be mean, but there was no point in beating around the bush. “Look, Heather. I just don’t think this is going to work. Not just me and you, but for me and any woman.”

I dropped her off at her house and drove home. I’d officially given up on dating all around; not just men, not just women—everyone. I no longer had faith in the human race and committed myself to a life of celibacy with the battery-operated boyfriend of my choice. Till death do us part…I was making a vow to Energizer.



*

The next few days were spent in isolation. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Ronnie about my latest fail and couldn’t move on without talking about it. My entire clan was now comprised of full-blown sugar-hole lovers, none of who would understand. The only other person I talked to these days was Collier. I’d tried to let the whole panty debacle go but couldn’t seem to rid my mind of the dating fails. Three glasses of wine in, I took the plunge.

Me: You busy?

Collier: Just working. You?

Me: At home getting cozy with a bottle of vino.

Collier: You guys good friends?

Me: Far better than I wish we were.

Collier: You okay?

I wasn’t, but admitting that would open up a whole can of worms I wasn’t sure I was prepared to eat.

Me: Yeah.

Several minutes passed between texts. I typed out a message, then erased it, then typed another one, erased. Overthinking things wasn’t my specialty, which was what landed me here in the first place. Had I bothered to consider anything Ronnie had said, I never would have tried dating women, but I hadn’t listened and ended up with my ass on my shoulders, and my ex’s girlfriend’s insult lingering in the forefront of my mind.

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