Page 8 of The Love Audit
“Okay, you know I love you”—she placed a hand on my wrist—“but judging from Derek’s… outburst… today, do you think there’s a chance that…?”
“A chance that what?” My emotions flipped from sadness to anger so fast that I nearly fell off my bar stool. I knew what Cassie was getting at, but I needed her to say it out loud.
“Look,” she sighed. “I’ve never asked you about it before, and I probably wouldn’t be asking you now if I didn’t have all these Jack and gingers, but c’mon, Jasmine, you know what the rumors are about your parents. I know you love them, but what if… there’s some truth to them?”
“There isn’t!” I realized too late that I’d shouted those words before lowering my voice, though only slightly. “My parents are not thieves. They are not embezzlers. Those rumors are bull, and screw anyone who thinks they’re not.” Damn it. I was tearing up again. Derek’s words in my office suddenly blazed in my brain like a neon sign. “And screw Derek Carter.” I signaled the bartender for another cosmopolitan.
“Speak of the damn devil,” Cassie muttered.
“What?” I spluttered, and she pointed over my shoulder.
Derek Carter was seated at a table across the restaurant.
And he was with a woman.
On a date.
Maybe it was a date.
I didn’t care.
Whether or not Derek Carter was on a date was none of my business.
It didn’t bother me.
Who gave a damn about what Derek Carter did?
I didn’t.
That didn’t explain why I downed half of the fresh drink thebartender placed in front of me before making my way over to his table. I ignored Cassie desperately hissing my name and awkwardly weaved my way through the maze of tables until I was standing in front of Derek and a woman who was definitely his date by the look of her dress.
Again, not that I cared.
“Jasmine, what the hell are you—”
“Well, well, well.” I planted my fists on my hips and prayed that I wasn’t swaying on my feet. “Doesn’t feel so good to have people come into your personal space and get in your face, does it, Derek. Benjamin. Carter?” I wasn’t sure why I used his name, much less his whole name.
“Jasmine, are you drunk?”
Duh.
“None of your business,” I retorted. “But you know what is my business, Derek Carter?” I poked him in the shoulder. “All those horrible things you said in my office about my family—that’s my business. My parents are the best people I know, and they loved you… so much. You had no right to…” Oh no, I was tearing up again. I had to say something to get control of this situation, and I had to do it before Cassie could stumble over here and pull me away. “You’re gonna regret crossing paths with me, Derek. Benjamin. Carter.” Damn it, I did it again. “I’m gonna get the Miller’s Cove project, and you’re gonna regret the—”
“Derek,” a female voice called out. I’d almost forgotten about his date. “Who is this woman?” I turned to face her.
“I’m the woman who’s gonna be the reason he loses his job, because I’m better at my job than he is at his job.” Wow. That wasa lot of jobs. I stared at her for a moment, taking in her beauty, while experiencing a new emotion that couldn’t have been jealousy, but I didn’t have a better word for it. Before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth again. “Did you know that he shit his pants on a roller coaster when he was fifteen?” Her gasp punctuated the silence that had fallen in the dining room.
“Okay.” Cassie, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “We should go now.”
“And he probably still sleeps with a night-light,” I shouted.
“That’s enough, Jas.” Cassie was now tugging me away from Derek’s table.
“Wait.” I tugged my arm out of her grasp and snatched a shrimp off Derek’s plate before popping it whole into my mouth, including the tail, which I immediately regretted. “Okay, now we can go.”
A little over a week had passed since the incident at The Capital Grille. I didn’t remember everything that happened that night, but Cassie, despite having ingested twice as many drinks as I had, remembered everything and insisted on giving me the blow-by-blow account until I begged her to stop.
I’d spent the ensuing nine days prepping for the research trip to Miller’s Cove and honoring the promise I’d made to God while lying face down on the cold tile of my bathroom floor: to never touch another drop of alcohol for the rest of my life.
