Page 61 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
“Twenty bucks says you asked her to go for dinner or drinks and she said no.”
“I’m not taking that bet either.”
“Oh, man. You did, didn’t you?”
He’s such an asshole.
“Yeah.” I hang my head and make condensation circles on the bar top with my glass.
“So, the question is, what are you gonna do about it?”
“Do about it? Nothing, man. She’s getting married.”
“Uh-huh,” he says.
“Subject change,” I say. It’s like our personal conversation safe word. If one of us can no longer handle a particular topic, we can saysubject changeand the other person has to honor it. Which Gregor does.
Leaving us to talk about nonsense for the rest of our beer. Or at least the rest of Gregor’s beer, since he finishes his way before I finish mine.
“You gonna be okay if I leave you to yourself?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.
“No reason,” Gregor say, a little mysteriously.
“Okay, then. I’m just going to finish my beer, hang out with my pal Leslie, and I’ll be out.”
“Les, keep an eye on him, will ya?” Gregor calls to her.
“Sure thing, boss man,” she says to Gregor and then turns to me and says, “How goes it, Paximus?” She likes to make word play with my name, same as I do with Skimpycock.
“It’s going, Les. How about you?”
“Can’t complain. I hear you’re still hung up on your ex?”
“What? Where’d you hear that?”
“Boss man said you’re stalking her and messing up her wedding photos.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch. I’m doing no such thing. Don’t believe anything he says. I turned it over to another photographer today. And even if I hadn’t, it doesn’t mean I’m still hung up on her.”
“Whatever you say, Paxidermy.”
Pfft. Whatever.
I can’t be still hung up on Tabby. That would be about the worst idea ever. No way in hell that’s the case.
Right?
17
Tabatha
My phone ringing wakes me at eight o’clock in the morning. I grope around on the nightstand until I feel it, then bring it close to my face to see who it is.
Angela. My agent.
“Hey, Ang,” I answer.
