Page 50 of Love JD

I didn’t know how I’d gotten lucky enough to have Mattie dropped in my path, but I thanked the universe for it. “I’m not trying to make him jealous,” I shouted over the music.

She laughed, shaking her head and making her blond ponytail sway. “You’re adorable. Come on, this one looks good.” She guided us to a red-draped table in a middle row, and we found seats in cushy armchairs that practically hugged me down into the memory foam padding. A female waiter approached us, and I realized they all wore the same practically topless sheer gown that twinkled in the club lights.

“What can I get you?” she smiled, eyeing me up and down.

Mattie hooked a thumb my way. “She’s trying to make her ‘not boyfriend’ jealous.”

The redhead got a knowing gleam in her eyes. “We’re pros at that.”

Mattie flashed a perfect, white smile. “Baby, I’ll bet you are.”

“I’ll find you another waiter,” she said with a wink my way.

I looked around, bewildered. “What is happening?”

“I’m getting you laid,” Mattie said with absolute gravity, sitting up in her chair and adjusting her crop top over her flat belly. “Unless you object to that?”

I sat up with her. “I don’t, but… it has to be the right person.”

“Figured,” she smiled. “You reek of monogamy, Shortbread.”

I watched as patrons gyrated on the dance floor below us, a guy made out with a waiter at the table to our left, and the dancers on stage took off the rest of their ensemble. I blinked, trying to find a safe place to stare. “I think I was going for more of a… sports bar.”

Mattie rolled her lips. “Um, I could take you to one, I’m sure. But trust me, if you’re going for rebellious acts of jealousy-inducing lust, then this is your best bet.”

I gave her a suspicious eye squint. “And how do you know that?”

“I know men,” Mattie shrugged. “And women.” She gave me an eye bat that probably would have dropped the drawers of every man and woman within ten feet. “I’m a double threat.”

My mouth drifted open. “I can tell.”

A male waiter approached us. Like the women, his top was sheer, but he wore tight brief-like shorts made of black satin. I tried really hard not to look at his package and six-pack as he asked, “What can I get you lovely ladies?”

“Jager bombs,” Mattie said confidently. “And martinis to chase it.” She glanced at me. “And water.”

Our waiter didn’t even ask for cash or a name, nor did he write anything down. He just gave me a wink and left to thread through the tables on our level. I drummed my fingers on the table nervously. “Um, I feel like I should tell you something.”

Mattie cocked her head, her slender legs crossed.

“I kind of have a… I have dysautonomia,” I admitted. “I get sick sometimes…”

“POTS?” she clarified with a sharp look.

No one had ever linked those two together before, but she was absolutely right to assume I might have POTS. “Who are you?” I asked in confusion. “No, it’s primary dysautonomia. Autonomic syncope, mainly.”

She dipped her chin once in understanding. “No worries, Shortbread. You know drinking is questionable for you, though, right?”

“I do,” I agreed slowly, giving her a suspicious squint. “But how do you know that?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got your back.” She accepted several drinks from the waiter, plunked them on the table, and slid a shot glass and a beer tumbler my way. “Energy drink and Jager. Drop it in and have at it. I’ll watch you for signs of hypotension, okay?”

I gaped at her. “Okay, but for real, who are you?”

“If you must know,” she said, dropping her shot glass into her own tumbler. “I’m a med school dropout.” She saluted me with her cup. “Now, bottoms up, Shortbread.”

I hurried to catch up to her, dropping the shot glass in the tumbler and tried to gulp down the drink as fast as she did. She side-eyed me as she chugged hers, brown eyes glittering with amusement.

It tasted good, actually. Like black licorice and fruit candy, and as soon as I slammed the glass on the table, I felt it hit my head. I laughed, and Mattie echoed it as techno music bounced in our ears.

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