Chapter Two #2
“I was late. That’s on me. And it turned out well for me.
I mean, how many times do I get to ride in a limo to an after-party?
” Christine picked up her menu and perused it.
She was being coy—not her usual style—but so often, she was the one who heard this kind of story.
She enjoyed getting to be the one telling it.
“Limo? After-party? Keep going.”
Christine told Julianna about the night, embellishing a large part of it. She ended with Austin’s offer to go home with him and exchanging cell phone numbers.
“He invited you to his home and you said no?” Julianna said.
“He didn’t ask me to have sex with him. Just to go home with him.”
“What do you think he meant?”
“I don’t know. It never happens to me,” Christine said.
“It did last night, and you said no,” Julianna said.
“I don’t need a one-night stand or courtesy sex. I’m fine,” Christine said, thinking she might have lost her one chance to have sex this year. Damn it , she thought. I’m such a dork .
“When was the last time you got laid?” Julianna asked.
“What year is it?” Christine said with a smirk. “He did kiss me. And did I mention his tour manager is super cute?”
“He kissed you?” Julianna’s eyes went wide.
“He did, and his tour manager, Matt, asked if he could kiss me,” Christine said, wiggling in her chair.
“Yeah, yeah. Tour manager, whatever. Tell me about Austin,” Julianna said.
“I’d rather talk about Matt. He is so handsome, and kind, and he’s—”
“Matt? What about Austin?”
“Oh, Austin. Yeah, he’s gorgeous and funny and has really soft lips.”
“Then why are you talking about Matt?”
Christine felt a huge grin cover her face. “’Cause Matt could be the one for me. And I haven’t said that since . . . never.”
“You just met him,” Julianna said, giving Christine the are-you-crazy look.
“You know how they say you sometimes just know?” Christine said.
Julianna looked like she was going to say something else, but then the server came by. They ordered lunch, Julianna getting Phoebe a Caesar salad and then a Greek salad for herself. Christine ordered the soup and sandwich.
“Please don’t mention Matt to Phoebe. Or anyone else. Or mention the kiss. Oh, this is all so weird for me,” Christine said. “I feel like I’m in high school or something.”
“I won’t say a word.”
Phoebe rushed in, panting, but not a hair out of place.
“Christine, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I knew they’d close the doors if I was late. It says so on the ticket,” Christine said.
“What? No, not for that. For what his fans are saying about you on socials. It’s just horrible,” Phoebe said. She knew the cyber world better than anyone.
“What are you talking about?” Christine asked.
“You haven’t seen?” Phoebe asked.
“Seen what?” Christine asked, looking from one friend to the other. Julianna wouldn’t look her in the eyes.
“Don’t you follow Austin Garrett on Twitter?” Phoebe asked.
“I prefer Instagram.”
Christine grabbed her phone, went to Twitter, typed in Austin Garrett , and nearly cried.
One message read, OMG! Who was the girl with AG?
You can do better, Austin! Call me. Another one read, Um, what’s with the average looking date AG had?
He should be with a model! Another tried to be kind: I heard he was taking his sister, so don’t be so mean.
This was rebutted by, That’s not his sister.
I googled it. His sister is way hotter than his date was.
And on and on it went. Comment after comment. Every so often, just to break things up, someone would say something nice like, She looked like she has a great personality. She grinned a lot. But some were also scary: Someone needs to remove her from him, NOW.
“Did you know about this?” Christine looked at Julianna.
“I’d seen a few of the comments but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“It’s a pretty damn big deal. I’m trending, for God’s sake. And not in a good way,” Christine said. She kept reading more comments. I liked her shoes!
“When did they get a shot of my borrowed hooker shoes?”
Christine shook her head to clear her thoughts, then gave a quick huff. The mean people couldn’t win. She would just choose to ignore them.
“Well, that was . . . dark. So what if I’m not tall, blonde, and size two? No offense, Julianna,” she said, slamming her phone down.
“None taken. You okay? I’d be freaking right now if this was about me,” Julianna said.
Christine envisioned the worst day of her life. It was in high school. The circle around her, the taunts, the threat. This was nothing.
“People can just be mean. They are insecure and jealous. That’s all.”
“What?” Phoebe asked, her brow creasing.
“It’s what my mom always told me when people teased me in high school. She said that people who are secure with themselves don’t need to tear others down. They must have been jealous of me. So what if I didn’t sit at the cool table or hang with the best-looking guys?”
Christine had known that, deep down, she wanted to date the hot guys, sit at the cool table, and go to parties. But she’d hung on to her mother’s words, and the older she got, the more she realized that it did take an insecure person to belittle someone else.
“Huh. Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” Phoebe said.
“And you’re hanging with the hot guy now,” Julianna said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“And obviously sitting at the cool table. I mean, we’re here,” Phoebe said, pointing to herself and Julianna. Christine chuckled.
“And I do go to some cool parties. See? They’re just jealous,” Christine said, nodding. She didn’t add that the comments still stung. Words can hurt. Sometimes worse than a punch.
Their food arrived and they dug in. Christine was glad when Julianna broke the silence and changed the topic.
“Are we still hitting the Bluebird next week? It’s the weekly songwriters round, and I hear there are two new writers who show a lot of potential,” Julianna said.
“It is our monthly outing. I plan on being there. Hopefully none of Austin’s cyber friends will be,” Christine said.
“I’m in. The talent they get is always promising,” Phoebe said.
Christine’s phone chimed, but she ignored it.
“You have a text,” Phoebe said.
“I heard,” Christine said.
“Look at it. It might be Austin,” Julianna said with urgency.
“It’s not him,” Christine said.
“You don’t know that.” Julianna met her eyes.
“I do know that,” Christine said.
“Just look.”
“Okay.”
It wasn’t him. They paid their bill and headed out.
AS IT TURNED OUT, AUSTIN DID call Christine—at 3:00 a.m. She reached for her cell, shocked to see his number on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey, hello. Yo. Is this, um, is this . . .”
“Christine?” she said.
“Yeah, Chrisshy.”
Christine sat up in bed and turned on her bedside light.
“Not Chrissy, Christine.”
“What?”
“Never mind. What do you want?”
“Don’t you live in the Brendwood Aperments?” She could hear his labored breathing and imagined him swaying. Drunk people tended to be heavy breathers.
“Brentwood Apartments? Yes, why?” She got out of bed and walked into the kitchen, getting a glass of water.
“I think I’m in one, and I need to get out, but I can’t drive ’cause I’ve had a couple drinks.”
“A couple?” She took a sip of water.
“Maybe more. I didn’t count.”
“Why can’t you stay where you are?”
“’Cause this chick I came home with is frucking crazy!”
“Frucking?”
“I tried to say freaking but it mingled. You don’t seem like the type of girl who appreciates the F-bomb at . . . at . . . hold on.” He made a rustling noise. “At three in the morning.”
“I’m not the type of girl who appreciates anything at three in the morning. Why do you think she’s crazy?”
“I tried to leave, and she stole my pants and locked them in a cabinet. I can’t find the key. She’s passed out, but I have no pants and can’t drive.” He exploded in a fit of giggles.
“Where are you?”
“In an apartment. Can you come get me?”
“Which apartment?”
“Hold on.” More rustling, a door opening, a door closing.
“Apartment 21B. Now I’m stuck outside without pants. I can’t get back in. The door is locked.”
He laughed, but it was muffled over the phone.
“Stop laughing. Someone will hear you.”
“Okay. Got it,” he said, continuing to chuckle.
“Do you at least have on underpants?”
“Yepper. You won’t see my boy if that’s your concern. But if you did, it’s pretty damn impressive, if I say so myself.”
Christine closed her eyes and tried not to conjure an image of Austin’s boy , which she assumed would be as perfect as the rest of him.
“I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and tried to visualize 21B.
It was at least three streets away. She threw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, grabbed her keys, and drove over.
When she arrived, there he was, Austin Garrett, the heartthrob, who was now passed out in his tighty-whities on the lawn outside the apartment complex.
Christine got out of the car and shook him until he came to.
“Oh, hey, Chrisshy.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her down beside him, laying a sloppy kiss on her face.
“Quit that.” Christine wiped her mouth and stood, pulling him with her. Along with his underwear, he was wearing a black T-shirt and a leather jacket. “Get in the car, now. Someone might see you.”
“Yes, Mom.” He stumbled into the passenger side of her car.
Christine bristled. Why did she always have to act like the mom? She was the responsible one, the designated driver, the person you could call at three in the morning.
“Want me to leave you on the lawn outside Crazy Woman’s house?”
“Nope.”
“You’ll behave?”
“Yep.”
She closed his door and got into the driver’s seat.
“What about your wallet? Car keys?”
“In my jacket.” He patted his pocket. “Not my first rodeo with crazy chicks.”
“Why would you choose crazy chicks?”
“You know what they say. Crazy in the head, crazy in the . . .”
“In the what?”
“Really? You don’t know? Bed, Chrissy girl. Crazy in bed.”
“Oh, dear Lord. No comment. And don’t call me Chrissy.”