Page 10 of Synced to Us

Still fighting the collar, I turn to the mirror, grimace, and then unbutton until a V flares, allowing my thick neck to breathe.

Mason glances at me through the mirror, our eyes meeting for less than a second, but it’s enough.

We both know that’s not why I’m doing this.

“Can’t I just go as me?”

“Pit-stained tees and ripped jeans aren’t exactly a selling point.”

“Says you.” I turn this way and that, moving to tug on the seam at my groin.

“You’re supposed to make a good impression on Dee. This is part of it.”

“Dee hates my guts.”

“You’ve met her what, three times? That doesn’t even count as real.”

“Are you listening to yourself?”

“I see I must break it down further.” Mason starts ticking off his fingers. “One: The first time you met, you thought she was still a working girl and propositioned her as such.”

“That was a joke—”

Mason folds a second finger, staring me down at being interrupted. “The second time, you drank too much and booted all over her fancy shoes.”

“C’mon, man. That was the night I found out Nocturne Court was over. Only Wild Turkey could get me through—”

“And rip through you, she did. Third and lastly, on Mack’s birthday, you hooked up with two of her former girls and asked Dee to join you in a threesome.”

I pause. “Dee was looking at me like she was jealous.”

“Or pissed off.”

“I can never tell which one it is with her.”

“Mm.” Mason fists his counting hand. “Point being, your three impressions sucked. This fourth one deserves a Brooks Brothers shirt, so you start off nice before you fuck it up.”

I slump forward on a dramatic sigh.

“Quit it, princess. You only have to wear that suit for a few hours, then you can meet me in the gym and sweat your frustration out while impressing all the yummy mommies.”

I grin in the mirror. “Now there’s something I’ll show up for.”

“Good. Now get gone before you’re late. Dee hates it when she’s forced to wait.”

“Look at you, terrified of a woman other than McKenna. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“She’s the one who taught Mack all she knows,” Mason responds in an exaggeratedly soft voice. I wonder if he’s talking about personality or sex skills, but I’m too in love with my face to dare asking for a clarification.

After a salute, I grab my stupid khaki blazer and head for the door.

“Good luck, bro,” Mason says.

“Don’t need it.” My phone buzzes as I reach for the doorknob, and I grab it out of my pocket with my free hand. “‘Cause this is a waste of both our damned time.”

“Says you,” Mason says.

I shut the door in his face and answer the call. “Yeah?”

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