I make another attempt to have a conversation with my date. “Are you from around here?”
“Yeah, I went to Eisenhower. Go Cardinals.”
“Me too. What year did you graduate?”
“Class of 2008.”
“Me too.” I stare at him, but he doesn’t look familiar. Of course, there were four-hundred students in our graduating class. I couldn’t possibly know everyone. “Huh. I don’t remember you.”
“But I remember you,” he sneers.
I tilt my head and study him. Still, no bells are ringing. “Jog my memory. Did we have a class together? Were you on the football team?”
He chuckles, but he is not amused. “No, little Miss Perfect Cheerleader, I was not on the football team.”
Let the record show, I wasn’t a cheerleader, I was on the pompom squad. Somehow, I don’t think Brian cares about the distinction. I wring my hands. What can I say to him?
“Well, high school was a long time ago. How have you been since?” Lame, Violet. Lame.
“I’ve obviously been doing well.” His hand brushes his expensive-looking suit. “I’m a partner in my firm where I make very good money.”
I smile. “How wonderful. Do you enjoy your work?”
He ignores my question. “And what about you, Violet? I thought you’d be married and pushing out kids for Luke, the football god, by now.”
I wish. Whoa. Hold up. No, I do not wish. Luke is not to be trusted. When the going gets tough, he doesn’t get going. Nope. He yells and makes false accusations and then flees like his ass is on fire.
Luke and I were high school sweethearts. I had the biggest crush on him all through freshman and sophomore year. I also had braces and acne. My early teenage years were not pretty. Between sophomore and junior year, the braces came off and the acne cleared up. Suddenly, boys who had been ignoring me for two years noticed me. Including Luke.
He asked me to the homecoming dance in my junior year and from that moment on we were inseparable. I went to college in the city but came home every weekend while Luke went to the local community college for a degree in automotive technology. And then he was sent to Iraq with his National Guard unit and everything went to hell.
“Oh, wait. You must not be with Luke anymore since your grandmother set us up on this blind date.” He grins. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Is this guy bothering you?” Speak of the devil and he will appear.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t need you to rescue me.”
Brian looks back and forth between us and then a spark of recognition lights up his face. “Luke Bauer,” he sneers. “I’d shake your hand but—” He looks at Luke’s obvious working hands with clear disgust.
“Who is this prick?” Luke asks me.
“It’s none of your concern. You can leave us alone now.”
Brian laughs. “Oh, this is priceless. Prom Queen and Prom King don’t get along anymore. Oh, boo hoo.”
Luke grabs Brian’s arm and pulls him out of the booth. “Come on. You’re done here.”
I block Luke from moving. “Stop it. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Yeah, Lukey-pie.” Brian has the audacity to flutter his eyelashes. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Is he drunk?”
I shrug. “Probably. He did two shots of tequila. I don’t know what else he’s had.”
I hear a stampede and look past Luke to see Grandma, Shelby, and Frankie barreling towards me. Oh, great. As if the night hasn’t been humiliating enough already.
“What’s wrong with you, Brian?” Grandma glares at him with her hands on her hips. “You seemed perfectly pleasant when we met at the pharmacy.”
“That was before I knew you were setting me up with her.” He points to me. “The stuck-up princess.”
Shelby laughs, and I glare at her. She probably agrees with Brian. “Oh, come on. This shit is funny. Grandma set you up with your high school nemesis.”
“Until five minutes ago, I didn’t know I had a high school nemesis!” Silly me. I thought everyone in high school liked me. Yikes. Maybe I was stuck up.
“Because if anyone said anything remotely not nice about his princess, Luke beat the crap out of them.”
My eyes widen. “Is this true?” I ask Luke. Wait. Why am I asking? This is old news. Ancient news. “Never mind.”
“I’m sorry, Violet,” Grandma says. “I thought I caught a good one for you.”
“She always thinks she’s found a ‘good one’,” Frankie says. “But she wouldn’t know a good one if it bit her in the ass.”
“There’s no need for crude language.” Grandma scowls at her. “I need to get home. Bill will complain if I’m not home in time for CSI.” She waves to everyone and saunters off leaving the mess of steaming crap she created.
“I think you should be on your way as well,” Luke tells Brian and points to the door.
“Gladly. My goal is accomplished here.”
“If your goal was to be a dick, you get an A+,” I tell him.
“Come on, Trouble.” Shelby grabs my hand and pulls me towards their table. “You could use a drink.”
“Trouble? Why are you calling me trouble? I’m not trouble.”
“Babe, please. You are so trouble.” She winks as she sits down. “And I’m going to enjoy the hell out of watching it all unfold.”
As I watch Luke storm out of the bar, I think she could perhaps be right. Effing hell.
Chapter 7
Stay in your lane? What kind of bs is that? Get over to the right and get out of my way. ~ Violet’s Secret Thoughts she might have accidentally on purpose yelled out the car window
Although I’ve been on the hunt for a new job for months now – ever since he who will not be named waltzed into F&J’s Events – I didn’t manage to secure an interview until today. I can’t help but wonder if Frankie has been stonewalling me. Some friend she is. It doesn’t matter. What matters is landing a job, so I can get the hell out of dodge, a.k.a. the suburbs.
My legs bounce as I sit in the reception area. Good thing it’s November and cold as a witch’s tit out there, meaning I’m dressed in a heavy, wool suit. If not, everyone would see how I’ve sweat clean through my blouse. The last thing I need is pit stains.
I have to land this job. I don’t know how much more I can take of being in Luke’s periphery. Especially after he had the gall to come to my place and tell me he’d be willing to let bygones be bygones. Bygones, my ass.
“Ms. Scott?” The receptionist calls my name and I stand. I smooth down my jacket and pick up my briefcase. “If you’ll follow me.”
We walk through an open area filled with workspaces. Desks are organized haphazardly with no separations between them. Would it kill them to put up some cubicle walls? This is nowhere near my ideal working environment. In fact, this here is what I call hell. But this is Frankie’s previous employer. They are the best of the best. Excluding F&J’s Events of course.
And it’s the first and only event planning company to offer me an interview. I haven’t heard as much as a peep out of my other job applications. Not even the cursory we received your resume. Thus, my theory Frankie is jobblocking me.