Page 46 of Best Served Cold

“You ready for tomorrow night?” he asks.

“Tomorrow night?” Anything beyond today feels impossible or at the very least abstract. This whole evening has been about survival, one minute floating into the next.

He groans. “Don’t tell me you forgot. We’re playing at Buchanan. You can throw Pollyanna your shirt.”

“Very funny.”

“It would piss off your brother.”

The thought hits a little too close to home, although I’ll be honest. I’d fucking like to. I’d like to infuriate him so much he reveals the truth of who he is to everyone.

I shake the thought off and focus on the fact that Sophie will be there tomorrow. We’ve texted casually a couple of times since Sunday. For the most part, we’ve stuck to The Ginger Station situation, but there’ve been no real developments. I don’t feel like I have the right to ask about anything else. Maybe I’m also trying to prepare myself for the inevitable. Maybe I’m also trying to prepare myself for the inevitable. I’m a reminder of the worst mistake of her life, and she’s already told me flat out that she’d wish her mistakes away if she could, like dandelion fluff in the wind. It’s pure hubris to think I wouldn’t be cut loose alongside Jonah.

Still, after I get off the phone with Travis, I watch that video of her reaming out Jonah. Something I’ve been doing nearly every night.

I tell myself it’s because I like watching Jonah getting schooled, which is true, but it’s also because Sophie’s transformation inspires me. It makes me want to write music.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SOPHIE

Conversation with Unknown Number

Stop coming to The Ginger Station and asking about me.

Who are you?

None of your business.

You do NOT want to piss off Pat.

You’re right. I don’t.

“I’ll have the Silver Star IPA,” Briar says, twirling one of her long locks as she studies the menu. She and Hannah are sitting in one of the booths in my section at Buchanan Brewery. It’s Friday evening, and they’re both here for Rob’s show. It’s Briar’s usual night off, and Hannah’s playing hooky. Each of us are wearing our perfect red lipstick, chosen by Hannah.

“Seriously?” Hannah retorts, giving her the stink eye. “When in Buchanan…”

Briar shrugs. “If my dad found out I tried a Buchanan beer, he’d probably have a heart attack. I’m not ready to run the brewery yet.”

“Live a little,” Hannah says.

Briar glances around as if worried someone’s watching her and chronicling her choices. “Okay, maybe I’ll have a flight.”

“That’s the spirit.” Hannah claps her on the back. “I’ll have the same, and you can choose the beers for us, Mrs. and Mrs. Ginnis. These are your stomping grounds.” Her face puckers as if she’s been sucking lemons. “But no ginger beer.”

While Briar has accepted that GingerBeerBabe is obviously disinterested in being our friend, Hannah is adamant that the message I received from an unknown number could very well have been from Jonah himself. Or a friend of Jonah’s. She’s received a couple of texts that were obviously from Jonah in response to her STD posters. One of them said:

He does NOT have crabs. I know that for a fact.

Which she’d responded to by saying:

I never mentioned crabs specifically, how interesting.

I’m on the fence. Hannah’s right, but so is Briar. It’s perfectly likely that GingerBeerBabe knows all about Jonah’s cheating and still wants nothing to do with us. I mean, I get it. I’m a woman who’s tried to bury the past for over a decade. I understand if she’d prefer to be done with him and everything related to him. It’s her God-given right. But I’d still like to meet her, or at least have confirmation of her existence. Hannah and I started down this path last weekend, and turning back now would feel like giving up.

On her, I mean. I gave up on Jonah weeks ago.

He definitely does not seem to have given up on me yet.

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