Disaster Girl by Michelle Dayton

Author:Michelle Dayton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance
ISBN: 9781953647818
Publisher: Tule Publishing Group, LLC
Published: 2021-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

I called Micki and convinced her to join me for a double feature at a movie theater on Saturday afternoon. I didn’t want to be alone, but I didn’t want to talk either. Which is why I love Micki; she knows when to pry and she knows when to just buy a mega-sized popcorn and chill. We saw some space adventure that got a lot of laughs from the crowd and some action movie with race cars. After it ended, the only thing I remembered about it was that a ton of stuff blew up, and I appreciated how the roaring soundtrack made it impossible to think about anything else.

When we left the theater, the rain had finally stopped and the early night was crisp and cool. Micki checked her watch and whistled. “I have just enough time to go home and change before work. You coming in tonight?”

I shook my head. “I’m probably going to hang with Kat.” Not true. I’d gotten a text from Kat earlier saying she was going to spend the night packing. We’d have our normal brunch date in the morning.

Very uncharacteristically, I just didn’t want to go out. I was already picturing my favorite pair of pajamas. Micki eyed me sympathetically. “Come to Fizz if you change your mind. I’m experimenting with a new bourbon cocktail. You can help me name it.”

It was a solid enticement. Every year she held a contest to name a new concoction and, much to my chagrin, I had never won. Winning was on my current bucket list. “Tempting.” I smiled weakly. “But have a good night if I don’t see you.”

She gave me a shoulder squeeze as her Lyft pulled up. “Cheer up, Tess. We still have lots of time to stop the FSG.” I waved at her, bemused, as she climbed into the car and it pulled away. I hadn’t thought about the FSG all day. I’d been moping about a very different man.

In my apartment building, Roz strolled out of her unit just as I cleared the stairs, wearing a killer red suit and matching heels. She caught sight of me and did a slow twirl. “On a scale of one to ten, how gorgeous do I look?”

Easy answer. “An eleven, at the very least.” Once a month Roz enjoyed dressing up on a Saturday night and treating herself to an outing at a gay martini bar up in Andersonville. I went with her sometimes, and it was always a hoot. But even that didn’t sound fun tonight.

She took a long look at my sourpuss face. “Bad bikini wax? Yeast infection?”

From Roz, this was a fairly pedestrian conversation-starter. Still, “Jesus, Roz. No!”

When I didn’t immediately counter with a question about menopause or senility, her expression went from expectant to mildly sympathetic. “Lawyer hasn’t gotten the video off the site yet?”

Roz had been on a business trip in New York this week and I hadn’t updated her. “Ah, no. And she doesn’t think she will.” I summarized my meeting with Natasha Long.

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