The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob(9)

“I’m calling Lila, asshole. Her Uncle Guido owes me a few favors.”

“Man, this sucks,” Cash says from somewhere to my left. “You guys are having fun, and all I can see is the carpet. Hello? Hell-ooo? Anyone there? Don’t leave me in the dark. I’m dying. I’m dyyyyy-innnnng.”

I snatch the phone. “Quit being a melodramatic dickwad.”

“Levi! You need a date. Tell me what you want. Short? Curvy? Natural hair or dyed? Conversationalist or not?”

“I don’t need a fucking dating service.” Maybe I do need a dating service.

“Turn the phone. I can’t see Beck and Tripp wrestling. Man, they haven’t done this since—ouch. Whoa. Wyatt’s been pumping iron.”

Wyatt’s between them, with Tripp’s phone tucked into his pocket and Lila’s voice ringing through so it sounds like Wyatt’s dick is talking like a woman. “Tripp? What’s up? Everything okay?”

“My mother’s dating!” Tripp hollers.

“Oh, honey…this isn’t the end of the world,” Wyatt’s dick says.

Fine, it’s Lila. Wyatt’s dick can’t talk, and I wouldn’t want to talk to it if it could.

I’m amusing myself, okay? It’s how I handle denial. And I’m deep in denial over so very much today.

“No women during poker night.” Beck dives for Wyatt’s crotch.

And Wyatt might have muscles, but Beck has freaky-long arms, and— “Whoa. Didn’t need to see that,” Cash says. “Anybody getting this on video?”

Tripp’s phone goes flying.

He and Beck and Wyatt are all wrestling on the ground and don’t notice when I grab it.

“Lila, sorry, no girls at poker night. I’m hanging up.”

“Is Tripp okay?”

I tilt my head and watch the grunting match on the floor. “Yep.”

“If he comes home bruised, I’m sending Uncle Guido after all of you.”

“If you know who my mother’s dating and haven’t said a word, I’m hiring a hacker and announcing the Fireballs are doing away with their new mascot.”

She gasps.

Tripp rolls out of the wrestling match on the floor and lunges for me. “The fuck you will. She got death threats over the mascot competition, and now all those people see she knew what she was doing all along, and we gave them a winning fucking team for the first time in decades, and do you think a single one of them apologized and took back the threats? No. Jesus. You’re acting just like you did when you dated Violet.”

I go stone-cold still.

Beck and Wyatt freeze.

Cash sucks in an audible breath, and Lila whispers a soft, “Whoa.”

I glare at Tripp.

He glares right back.

“Oh, shit, dude.” Beck climbs to his feet. “Are you secretly dating Violet again?”

Jesus. Do a reputation favor for a woman who gets caught “cheating” on you when you’re feeling like shit for having a temporary career crisis, and no one can ever let it go.

Mostly because they had no idea it was all just for show.

That was the deal.

“Fuck you all. I’m out.”

I know. I know.

Don’t turn your back on your best friends when you’re down.

But you know what sucks?

Being confused and wanting something I’ve never wanted for the first time in my life, and knowing I can’t have it.

Not the way I want it today.

I don’t want to go to Tripp’s wedding solo. I don’t want to wake up alone at the holidays. I’d like to get back to my place in New York and open the door knowing there’s someone waiting who missed me while I was gone. I want to know I can pick up the phone no matter where I am in the world and call someone who’d answer at all hours of the day or night and listen to me talk about stupid shit like my mic malfunctioning mid-song during a concert.

Is it wrong to want to be first to someone?

Tripp’s in love.

Beck’s in love.

Wyatt’s in love.

Fuck.

Even my mother’s apparently in love.

Maybe I should get a dog.





Four





From Levi Wilson’s fan mail…





Hi Levi,

I feel like a total dork writing this to you today, because I haven’t written a letter to a celebrity in over twenty years—so, you know, when I was a toddler, because there’s no way I was a teenager writing fan letters twenty years ago—but I needed to say thank you for…well, for a lot of things.

I’ll leave it at thank you for being so patient and kind with my son and me at Penny for Your Thoughts this afternoon, and to apologize for not helping you with the yodeling pickle you came in to get.

Okay, actually, as a single mom of three, I can’t leave it at thank you.

I really hope the yodeling pickles were for your crew and not your family. Not that I stalk your family, but it’s virtually impossible to live in Copper Valley and NOT know about your family, especially with your brother getting involved with the Fireballs this year, and his family being all over the news recently with the team finally having a great season and all the drama over the new mascot and everything. They’re adorable.