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I unabashedly go for it. “You weren’t?”
She leans in, a secret between friends. “No way. I had to end it.”
“You ended it?” I polish off my mimosa.
“I did,” she says and scans around us. “Better to be on the outside.”
A waiter walks by with an empty tray and I place my glass on it. “Another?” he asks.
“No thanks.”
“Not that it’s easy to get on the inside,” she adds. She scoffs at some secret thought. “I’ll take another, please,” she says to him as he walks off.
He nods his understanding.
“I mean…” She pulls a wisp of hair out of her lip gloss. “I’m pretty sure it would involve a sacrifice to Satan.” She laughs at her own joke.
I just stand there, making sense of it all.
So, apparently Jake does have the capability of more than a one-night stand because he dated this woman. She regretfully ended it because of his nightmarish family, not that I can blame her. But she must not be that scared of them if she’s attending the brunch.
And if she’s secretly wanting to run into him again.
“Especially watch out for the sister,” she adds.
I tug on the hem of my too casual, olive green jacket. Tell me about it. And I nod a reluctant thanks. Joanna’s one to talk, though. She also has no problem trying to scare off a new girlfriend. A wolf in silk clothing.
Ugh. I’m at a standstill. Do I continue to play the role of Jake’s girlfriend and pretend to be irritated, like any girlfriend would when confronted with this Bad News Barbie? Do I indulge the journalist in me and see if she’s buzzing on champagne just enough to tell me more? Or do I just bail because she’s giving me the worst vibes…
Before I can decide, a voice behind me interrupts. “Scarlett…”
Farrah.
Her soft, porcelain arm loops into mine, and she looks to Joanna. “Excuse us,” she says, feigning her condolences. “I need to speak with her.” She then tugs me to take a walk toward the pool. It’s less crowded there.
As I allow Farrah to steal me away, my lips part to form the words “Nice to meet you, Joanna,” but I can’t quite get it out. It wasn’t nice to meet her.
When we’re out of ear shot, Farrah leans into me. Or, I guess, leans down, seeing that she’s way taller than me, which isn’t hard to achieve since I’m only five foot six. She’s the Gandalf to my Bilbo. “I couldn’t in good conscience watch you get ear-fucked by that woman and do nothing.”
I’m momentarily stunned by her use of ear-fucked, and a little in love, to be honest. “Thank you,” I say and sigh-laugh. “She’s—”
“A total nightmare,” Farrah supplies.
“Did you know her when they dated?”
“Who dated?”
“Jake and Joanna.”
She pauses, pulling me to a stop and has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. “She told you that?” she says from behind her fingers.
“Yeah.” Oh God. Did she lie? I’m usually pretty good at picking up on those things. I guess all the fillers and bleach and camouflage distracted me.
Her hand falls, the movement making her wispy skirt flutter. “They never dated,” she says flatly, humor glinting in her eyes, and she tugs me toward the pool again. “He avoids her at all costs.”
“So…she’s a stalker.”
“Exactly.”
