Page 90 of Going Deep
Ginger aimed an incredulous look at her friend. “He dumped me, Anna.”
“So? Lola dumped Simon, but she was heartbroken.”
“This is true,” Lola agreed. “But I don’t think this is the same thing.”
“Not at all the same thing,” Ginger agreed and slapped her sneakers into the suitcase. “I want a damn drink.”
Abandoning the half-packed case, she left the bedroom and was in the kitchen, fighting with the corkscrew and a bottle of red when Anna and Lola joined her.
“I’ll get the glasses,” Lola offered.
“Make it three,” Anna said. “Want some help with that?”
“I’ve got it,” Ginger said, and pulled the cork free with a grunt. She poured the wine into the glasses Lola held, then set the bottle aside.
“What are we drinking to?” Anna asked.
“Good friends?” Lola suggested.
“I’ll go with that,” Ginger decided and drank.
“So,” Lola said when she lowered her glass. “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you?”
Ginger just looked at her.
“Okay, a forty-seven,” Lola said, and Anna laughed. “Now, on a scale of one to ten, how heartbroken are you?”
Ginger sighed. “Probably a forty-seven. But I’m still in pissed-off mode, so it’s hard to tell.”
Lola nodded. “I think that’s about right. Anna?”
“I was going to say forty-eight, but I’ll go with forty-seven.” She reached over to rub a hand on Ginger’s arm. “Have you cried yet?”
Ginger shook her head. “Mad tears. Not that-rat-bastard-broke-my-heart tears.”
“Not even when you got the box of stuff?”
“It wasn’t much, just a toothbrush and some hair stuff, lotion. Oh, and a pair of panties that I wore to his place once that he ‘confiscated’. I almost cried about that,” she recalled. “But then I got mad again.”
“What’d you do with the stuff he left here?” Lola wanted to know.
“He didn’t leave anything here.” Ginger took a slug of wine, then walked over to plop onto the couch. “That should’ve been my first clue.”
Lola sat next to her. “Didn’t you mostly spend time at his place?”
Ginger just shrugged. She wasn’t in the mood to be logical.
Anna perched on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you so angry?”
Ginger stared. “Are you kidding?”
“No, I mean, I know why you’re angry,” Anna hurried to say. “I just meant…”
“Which part are you most angry about?” Lola put in.
