Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(63)

She did a fake little laugh. “There’s no need to be a bitch about it. Would letting me know what’s happening really have killed you?”

“Leave,” said my lovely manager, Ruby. “Right now. Get out.”

The woman switched to incredulous, mouth open wide. “What?”

“Amanda, call the cops.” Ruby stood tall beside me.

“On it, boss.” Amanda snapped open her cell and punched in the numbers, leveling the woman with her evil eye. Amanda, having moved on from being my high school’s sole lesbian, was studying drama. These confrontations were her favorite part of the day. They might have sapped my strength, but Amanda sucked all of her power from them. A dark, malevolent force, to be sure, but it was all hers and she reveled in it. “Yes, we’ve got a fake blonde with a bad tan giving us trouble, officer. I’m pretty certain I saw her at a frat party doing some serious underage drinking last week. I don’t want to say what happened after that but the footage is available on YouTube for your viewing pleasure if you’re over eighteen.”

“No wonder he dropped you. I saw the picture, your ass is wide as f*cking Texas,” the woman sneered and then sped out of the café.

“Do you really have to stir them up?” I asked.

Amanda clucked her tongue. “Please. She started it.”

I’d heard worse than what she’d said. Way worse. Several times now I’d had to change my email address to stop the hate mail from flooding in. I had closed my Facebook account early on.

Still, I checked my butt to be sure. It was a close call, but I was pretty sure Texas was, in fact, wider.

“As far as I can tell you’re living on a diet of breath mints and lattes. Your ass is not a concern.” Amanda had long since forgiven me for the bad kiss back in high school, bless her. I was beyond lucky to have the friends I did. I really don’t know how I’d have made it through the last month without them.

“I eat.”

“Really? Whose jeans are those?”

I started cleaning the coffee machine because it really was getting on closing time. That, and for reasons of subject avoidance. Fact was, getting cheated on and lied to by rock ’n’ roll’s favorite son did make for quite the diet. Definitely not one I’d recommend. My sleep was shot to shit and I was tired all the time. I was depression’s bitch. Inside and out, I didn’t feel like me. The time I’d spent with David, the way it had changed things, was a constant agitation, an itch I couldn’t scratch. Partly because I lacked the power but also because I lacked the will. You could only sing “I Will Survive” so many times before the urge to throttle yourself took over.

“Lauren doesn’t wear these. Said they were the wrong shade of dark wash and that the placement of the back pockets made her look hippy. Apparently pocket placement matters.”

“And you started wearing that skinny cow’s clothes when?”

“Don’t call her that.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Please, she takes it as a compliment.”

True. “Well, I think the jeans are nice. Are you wiping down the tables or would you like me to?”

Amanda just sighed. “Jo and I want to thank you for helping us move last weekend. So we’re taking you out tonight. Drinking and dancing ahoy!”

“Oh.” Alcohol and me already had a bad reputation. “I don’t know.”

“I do.”

“I had plans to—”

“No you don’t. This is why I left it to the last minute to tell you. I knew you’d try to make excuses.” Amanda’s dark eyes brooked no nonsense. “Ruby, I’m taking our girl out for a night on the town.”

“Good idea,” Ruby called out from the kitchen. “Get her out of here. I’ll clean up.”

My practiced pleasant smile fell off my face. “But—”

“It’s the sad eyes,” said Ruby, confiscating my cleaning cloth. “I can’t bear them any longer. Please go out and have some fun.”

“Am I that much of a killjoy?” I asked, suddenly worried. I honestly thought I’d been putting on a good front. Their faces told me otherwise.

“No. You’re a normal twenty-one-year-old going through a break-up. You need to get back out there and reclaim your life.” Ruby was in her early thirties and soon to be wed. “Trust me. I know best. Go.”

“Or,” said Amanda, waggling a finger at me. “You could sit at home watching Walk the Line for the eight hundredth time while listening to your brother and best friend going hard at it in the room next door.”

When she put it like that … “Let’s go.”

*

“I want to be bi,” I announced, because it was important. A girl had to have goals. I pushed back my chair and rose to my feet. “Let’s dance. I love this song.”

“You love any song that’s not by the band who shall not be named.” Amanda laughed, following me through the crowd. Her girlfriend Jo just shook her head, clinging to her hand. Vodka was doubtless as bad an idea as tequila, but I did feel somewhat unwound, looser. It was good to get out and on an empty stomach three drinks went a long way, clearly. I did suspect Amanda had made at least one of them a double. It felt great to dance and laugh and let loose. Out of all of the getting over a break-up tactics I’d attempted, keeping busy worked best. But going out dancing and drinking all dressed up shouldn’t be mocked.