Page 5 of Forbidden Surrogate

I can't exactly complain about the football talk when I played along with the Josh Allen comment.

Whatever. I might as well spill the tea. I push my glasses up my nose and nod, "Yup, bad breakup. He was a thief. And a liar. And he slept with a friend of mine who was crashing on my couch."

"EW!" she shrieks with validating disdain for the situation. "What an asshole. Did you throw out the couch?"

I wince. It gets so much worse.

"They left with it in the back of his GMC Sierra."

She gasps and shakes her head. "That's it. You're getting another Blizzard onme..."

I'm barely done with the first blizzard and it's enough to get me drunk, but this woman isn't going to let me get out of here without another drink, a higher tip and a lot more gossip.

"I can already tell you're too beautiful for him," she says as she shakes up her alcoholic brew in a stainless steel shaker.

"I have the worst luck with men. I don't know what it is."

She nods. "I get it. My last boyfriend had a micro-penis."

She pours the shaken part of the drink and then adds creamy white liqueur to the top. Just smelling the drink feels like enough to get me drunk. Phew! That shit is strong. Maybe that’s a good thing.

"You need to just shake it off, like my hero Taylor Swift would say," the bartender says. "A new guy will be right around the corner. You'll see."

"Hopefully he isn't holding a crowbar and a length of rope..." I mutter.

She laughs aggressively and then moves on to the pair of fratty looking dudes who just walked up to the bar. I sip on my drinks, alternating between the strong, fresh blizzard and the old one watered down by ice cubes.

Loud voices coming through the front door grab my attention.

"You're an ASSHOLE, Luigi. That's why it's so hard for you."

The woman who just loudly called this 'Luigi' character an asshole stomps up to the empty bar stool next to mine and snaps her fingers impatiently for the bartender. Luigi glares at her and I wonder if they’re together until I spot their very subtle but present family resemblance. Their eyes are the same shape. Same nose. You never know in Upstate New York but… I think they’re siblings and not lovers. I would gamble on it.

"Rachel!" the presumed says to the bartender. "I need tequila shots or I'm going to DIE!"

Rachel bounces over to us and rolls her eyes at the woman who just walked in. They must know each other, so this woman is either a regular or one of the many residents of Upstate New York who has never bothered to leave.

"Is that your brother?" Rachel asks while she grabs tequila off the top shelf. “He looks angry.”

The sullen man searches for the darkest table in the darkest corner of the room and he doesn’t seem to notice that since he walked in… everyone is staring.

"Uh huh. Hey," his sister turns her attention to me, drawing my gaze away from her tall, brooding brother. "I'm Angela. What's your name? I love your glasses."

"Delphine."

Angela nods enthusiastically. "Cute name, Delphine. Word of advice? Stay single."

"How did you–”

"No offense," she interrupts. "You seem a little too normal to be involved with a guy from Buffalo. You don't have that beaten down look about you."

"Thanks."

Rachel slides over two clear tequila shots, giving Angela a smirk as she watches her lean dramatically over the bar for them. I assume Angela plans on bringing one to her brother, but she pounds back one shot quickly, then the other before she turns to me.

"Waiting for a friend?"

"Nope. I'm here alone."

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