Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Sorry,” Frankie says. “We didn’t know what you’d want.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the man with her says. “I’ll get you something from the bar. What would you like?”
“What are you drinking?” Gigi bats her eyes.
“Jack on the rocks.”
“Sounds wonderful. I’ll have the same.”
The man exits quickly and heads to the bar.
“Gigi,” Isabella says, still in the robot tone. “You hate hard liquor.”
“I’ll suffer through. Isn’t he luscious? He works for Braden Black.”
I perk to attention. Jackson works for Braden Black.
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“Dylan something or other. Andrews or Anderson or something like that. He’s meeting someone here. A coworker. But he’s not here yet. All the better for me.”
I take a sip of my sidecar. It’s my drink of choice. Lemon juice and cognac with a sugared rim to add just a touch of sweetness.
Dylan returns with his and Gigi’s drinks.
“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Gigi says.
Dylan looks around. “I don’t see a spare one anywhere. But there are two seats at the bar if you’d like to join me.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” Gigi glances around our table.
“Of course not,” I say.
Isabella and Frankie don’t look as thrilled.
Really, Frank? You’re engaged, for God’s sake. Let Gigi have her fun.
Frankie, Isabella, and Gigi have been in a perpetual competition for men since I can remember.
“What’s up with her?” Isabella says after Gigi leaves. “This is your night, Frank.”
“Oh, it’s okay.”
Right. Frankie wants to sulk, but she’s engaged. She’s supposed to be happy. Penn Berry better make my sister happy or he’ll answer to me.
“Why don’t we toast?” I hold up my sidecar. “To Frankie and Penn.”
That brings a smile to Frankie’s face.
“Yes,” Isabella says monotonously. “To Frankie and Penn. And to many happy years.”
We clink glasses, and I take another sip of my sidecar when—
“Hey, Mandy.”
My heart jolts. I’d know that whiskey-toned voice anywhere.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Jackson sits down in the empty chair at our table.
“Oh,” I say, willing my voice not to shake. “Yeah. Please join us, Jack.”
“What are you ladies up to tonight?”
“Are you the coworker Dylan was meeting?” Frankie asks.
“Guilty. But I see he found someone else to occupy his time.” Jackson waves to our server, who nearly takes out two customers getting to our table.
Yeah. Jackson has that effect on women.
I should know.
“What can I get you, sir?” she asks, smiling.
“Tanqueray and tonic, please.”
“Absolutely. Coming right up.”
Jackson turns back to us. “So…anyone going to answer me?”
“What?” I say.
“I asked what you ladies were up to this evening.”
“Oh, right. We had to get fitted for our dresses for Frankie’s wedding.”
“Mandy told me the good news.” Jackson nods to Frankie. “Congratulations, love.”
“Thank you. The wedding’s in three months. I hope we can count on you being there.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Our server—I think her name is Jane—brings Jackson’s drink and sets it on the table. In record time.
“Thanks, love,” Jackson says and gives her that dazzling smile.
Jane blushes and whisks away.
Love. Jackson calls everyone love. Everyone except me. I get to be Mandy Cake.
Jackson is a world-class flirt. He has been since puberty. It drives me up the wall. Not only up the wall but across the ceiling and back down the other side.
He has no feelings for the server. He has no feelings for any of the women he calls love. I’m not even sure he’s ever had feelings for anyone he’s dated seriously. And by seriously, I mean a maximum of three months. I rarely even get to meet any of them. In fact, I’m glad when I don’t. The few times he’s introduced me to a date, he’s been more serious than normal. Which of course makes me feel terrible, since I’m hopelessly in love with him.
Luckily, none of them have lasted, even the ones he’s introduced me to.
Isabella stands. “You want to dance, Jack?”
Really, Isabella?
To be fair, Isabella and Gigi don’t know my true feelings for Jack. Neither does Frankie, though I’m sure she suspects. It’s not something I talk about. Not to anyone.
It’s my own private hell.
Jack takes a drink of his gin and tonic. “Sure, love.” He leads Isabella to the dance floor.
It’s a weeknight at a hotel bar, so the floor is hardly crowded. About five other couples besides Isabella and Jackson are dancing. It’s a fast song, so they’re not touching. Does Isabella have a thing for Jackson? I can’t blame her if she does, but she’s never mentioned it to me. Maybe she just wants to dance. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, after all.
Gigi and Dylan join them on the dance floor, and I finish my sidecar. I motion to Jane to bring me another, which she does, along with my nachos and four plates. I guess she thinks I’m sharing.
I’m not a big drinker, but I tend to have more than one when I’m forced to watch Jackson interact with other women.