Page 48 of Pity Present
She tips her head to the side before saying, “Cadillac SUV.”
I’m called a pickup, a Hummer, an Audi, and a Jeep before I find myself standing at the bar. “I need something strong,” I tell the bartender.
He hands me a shot glass and a mug of beer. I watched my grandfather drink boilermakers for years, so I do it the same way he did. I drop the shot glass directly into the beer before taking a gulp. Then I tell the bartender, “Thank you.”
I decide to finish my drink and then seek refuge until this stupid game is over. But before I can, Molly walks over to me and laughs. “A faulty starter …”
“I’ve been instructed not to talk to you,” I tell her.
“By whom?” she wants to know.
“By Trina. She doesn’t want me talking to you or Krista.”
“Really, why?” Molly seems truly perplexed.
“Because you told her that I only wanted to be your friend, and she says that’s not why we’re here.”
Molly nods her head in agreement. “She’s right.”
Before I can say anything else, a guy in a suit walks over to Molly and says, “Aston Martin DBS Superleggera—in red.”
“Don’t be pretentious,” I hiss at him.
His face contorts in disgust like he just ate a bad clam. “Dude, I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the lady.”
“You’re being sleazy,” I tell him.
“I was complimenting her.”
“You were insulting her. Molly isn’t a sports car.”
“Really?” Molly has decided to join in, and she doesn’t sound pleased.
“You’re a Rolls Royce,” I tell her. “You’re a classic beauty that will look as beautiful in fifty years as you do now.” That sounded way more seductive than I was going for, but it’s the truth. Molly is pure class.
“Thank you, I guess,” she decides.
I wait for her to tell me what kind of car I’d be, but she doesn’t. Instead, she looks confused as she turns and walks away from me, leaving me feeling like a Tesla without its charger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MOLLY
Blake said I was a Rolls Royce. While I’m totally flattered by the comparison, I’m equally confused by it. I would have thought he would have called me a VW Bug or a Mini Cooper. You know, cute enough but nothing special. That’s how he treats me, anyway.
After walking away from him, I keep going until I’m out of the ballroom. I’m not sure I’m the right kind of person for an event like this. Not only do I not like advertising my single status to the free world, but it all feels so desperate. Which I guess I am. As in, who goes out and buys a fourth new dress when there are two that still have their tags on?
It’s just that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I can capture his attention and not mess up my words, he’d finally see how compatible we are in all areas.
Once I reach the great room, I sit in an overstuffed chair next to the fire. I pull my phone out of my purse and call Ellen. “Hey, sis,” I say as soon as she answers.
“Molly! Are you okay?”Shedoesn’t sound okay. In fact, she sounds like she’s been crying.
Instead of asking her, I say, “I’m good. You sound surprised to hear from me.”
“I am,” she says. “I mean, I’m lucky to talk to you once a week. Three days in a row isn’t exactly normal for us.”
She’s right. I’m not the greatest communicator, but that mostly has to do with the fact that Ellen thinks she knows everything and she’s often too free with her advice. The thing is, I kind of want her guidance now. “I have a question,” I start to say but then stop.
