She had no reason to hurt me.
A muffled giggle and then a snort sounded. “How long until you’re ready? Wanker’s ready for some dancing and kicking butt tonight.”
My eyebrows pinched together. It was hard to think of a six feet three Wanker—constantly shoving his glasses back on and pinching the top of his nose—as a disco-fighting machine. But Erica was raring to go.
She had spewed the entire subway ride home about Susan: how she always got what she wanted, how she slept with the supervisor for the job, how she must’ve given him a blowjob if she hadn’t spread her legs. Erica kept going, but I’d been in my own Kian daze.
I wasn’t surprised that she was drinking already or that she got Wanker worked up with her. What she did, he did. He was there to support her, no matter what, just like she was with me.
Okay. Time to let go of the past. I was Jo now. Not Jordan. “Ten minutes,” I answered, hugging the towel tighter around myself. I needed that long to shake all the old baggage off me.
“Okay.” She began edging backward, away from my door. “I called a cab. I say, screw it, let’s go all out and pay for our own transportation. Forget public transportation for the night. Susan’s celebrating, so I’m going to celebrate tonight, too. The cab will be here in twenty.” She stopped a little bit away. Her voice was a little quieter. “Hey, I know I was raging, but you were quieter than normal on the way home. Is everything okay?”
“No, no,” I called out. “I’m fine. Honestly. My exam was harder than I had studied for, that’s all. I don’t think I’ll get an A on it.”
“Really?” She coughed, and the slight slur she’d had two seconds earlier was gone. “Oh, Jo, I’m so sorry. I’ll have a glass ready for you. It’s a perfect night for both of us to drown our sorrows, huh?” A wry chuckle left her. “Not for Wanker. I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s getting laid tonight, but it’s not going to be by me, so once he figures that out, he’ll be joining in with the depressed boozing tonight.”
Her voice trailed off as she left my bedroom, and once I heard that door close, a deep breath left me. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the door.
“Get your shit together, Jo,” I whispered to myself.
That was enough. No more Kian. No more thoughts about him or that night. No more thoughts about Edmund either. I never wanted thoughts about my foster father, even on a good day.
A slight panic buzzed in me as I knew what kind of media storm could be coming my way, but I pushed all of that down, way down, in me.
I changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I didn’t want attention.
I never did, but tonight was less than normal for me. Going to the mirror, I brushed my hair back so it grazed the tops of my shoulders. My hands lingered as I tucked the strands behind my ears.
I was the same girl as then but different. I used so much makeup back then, dressing up for my boyfriend. That was another rule, and the only one I continued to break from my foster father. Edmund said, “No makeup.” My teenage hormones replied, “Screw that,” so I scrubbed my face before going home every day. I liked makeup back then. I liked how it made me look older, not so pathetic. I was prettier. I was more sophisticated.
I barely used any now.
I applied just a little bit of soft pink lipstick and reapplied my mascara. That was it, some mascara and lipstick. I was good to go. Same girl but different.
Erica shoved open the door and stood there with her hands on her hips. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were glazed over. “Cab’s here, Jo Mama.”
Definitely drunk.
I nodded and straightened my shirt, then grabbed some cash and my ID. “I’m ready.”
She didn’t move. Instead, she smiled and waved her hand up and down. “You look nice.”
I looked plain and forgettable, how I preferred it, but I reared back and looked at her. Erica didn’t dress up, not for anything, but she had a dress on.
“Damn, Erica. Is Wanker still alive?” I pretended to rub my eyes.
“What?”
I gestured to her, doing a Vanna White flourish with my wrist. “Do I need to call the ambulance? Did the sight of you stop his heart?”
“Shut up.”
I fought against my grin. “You’re hot, woman. You’re wearing a dress.”
And it was one that hugged her form. She was close to five feet four and usually dressed in shirts with sarcastic quotes over tattered jeans. All of that was gone, and Erica was transformed. Her boobs showed. She had an ass. Her stomach was flat, and she even had hips.
“Oh, this?” Her nose wrinkled, and she smoothed her hand down the front, picking at some lint on the bottom. “Ugh. Whatever. I’m sinking to Susan’s level. Don’t hate me. She’s going to be dressed to the nines, so I have to, too. So, yeah.” She waved a hand at herself. “Sexiness ensued for the night. I already can’t wait till we get back, and I can put my pajamas on. Looking good sucks major balls.”
She flounced from my room and called over her shoulder as I followed her, “We’re going, Wanker.” She grabbed her purse on the way out.
He stood from the couch, and his hand checked his zipper when he chugged the rest of his wine. His entire face and neck were beet-red. That meant one thing. Sexiness ensued had indeed ensued him.
I felt a flicker of pride for my roommate, but then Wanker was out the door, and they were halfway down the hallway, so I didn’t have time to savor the proud moment. I hurried to catch up, and the cab took off the second I shut the car door behind me.
When we got to Sids, I asked Erica, “You sure you want to go in there?” The line to get in was around the corner.
Erica shoved up her glasses. “I did an article for them. Time to call in a favor.”
Wanker mirrored her action, pushing up his glasses.
The favor worked. The bouncer waved her in, and when we went through, he said, “Go have fun.”
Erica pulled me behind her, moving into the bar. Sids was packed. It was standing-room only. Hip-hop music blared from a deejay on the second floor. As Erica dragged me, I recognized other students from our college. I was right. Most of the people here were Hillcrest students.
Kian was supposed to go to Hillcrest, but then he’d gone to prison instead.
No. No thoughts of him.
I shook my head to clear it and ran into Erica.
“Hey.” I frowned at her, but she wasn’t paying attention.
She was enraptured by something on the opposite side of the bar. I didn’t need to take a guess. It must’ve been Susan. I started to look, figuring I should get this over with. Jake had said he and Tara had broken up, but I knew Tara would still be all over him. Every time he said they were broken up, I would see them cuddling on a couch at a party a day later.
Erica clutched at my arm and pointed. “You see him?”
Him.
My heart lurched for a second. She couldn’t mean…that would make no sense.
I looked…and saw someone else. It wasn’t Kian.
“Oh. Jake. Yeah.” I frowned, feeling a flutter in the bottom of my throat. I was being ridiculous, thinking she’d meant him.
“I don’t get it.” She shook her head and shoved her glasses back up her nose. “They broke up, but he’s here, celebrating with Susan? I didn’t even think Susan liked him. At the paper, she’s always complaining about Tara’s relationship with him. I’m surprised that hasn’t gotten back to Tara yet.”
Her eyes got big then, and I could see the ideas filling her head.
“No, Erica. Don’t say a word. You don’t want to step into that. Trust me.”
“Not Jake and Tara. Susan and Tara,” she clarified. “Susan talks so much crap about Tara’s relationship with Jake. If Tara knew—”