Page 20 of Champagne Fizz

“Oh?” I mock. “You’re saying you want me to fuck your enemy now?”

“No, I’m sayingyouwant to fuck my enemy,” Arie clarifies, following me down the hall. “And if that’s the case … then, yes, keep your enemies closer.”

“When exactly did Kendall become your enemy?” I ask, opening my office door and tossing the empty money wallet on my desk.

“Hello! The second she walked into my restaurant in that yellow monstrosity,” Arie snips, stalking behind me with her head shaking like that should have been obvious.

“Maybe she’s nice,” I defend. “Nice people wear yellow.”

“You’re only saying that because you want to bend her over the bar and—”

“Not at work!”

“Okay, bend her over whatever hard, impressive, wooden furniture you have in your apartment,” Arie sasses.

“Or,” I offer, “perhaps I don’t want the two of you to ruin Olivia and Ned’s wedding.”

“I would never ruin Olivia and Ned’s wedding!” Arie’s hands are on her hips, seething fire and brimstone. I nab my coat and head for the front door.

“But you’re saying that Kendall—the actual wedding planner—will?”

“Do I need to reiterate what she was wearing?” Arie hisses. “Or were you just looking at her tits?”

“Her fashion style is … creative,” I admit.

“Thank you!” Arie throws her hands in the air, happy I’m finally playing along.

“And yes, she does have nice tits.” I shrug. I’m human. Of course, I noticed, and they were nice.

Arie’s pointing finger flies in my direction. “Youdowant to fuck her!”

“Wow, dual personality,” I chide, opening the front door and walking out to the patio. “I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“Not really,” Arie admits.

I shake my head at her, exacerbated. “Then what the hell was all that about me needing to get laid?”

“I need to know where your allegiances lie,” Arie says. “And if you fuck her you’re probably going to pick her side.”

“True,” I nod. “Magical pussy and all.”

“Don’t joke about the power of magical pussy.” Arie points at me like I’m cursing her religion, so I just lean in hard.

“I might even fall in love with her.”

“We’ll have to get a divorce if that happens,” Arie exclaims, following me to the elevator.

“We’re not married.”

“We share a restaurant,” Arie asserts. “The separation is going to be ugly.”

“Wow, that’s pretty drastic,” I say dryly. “I mean, what if I actually like her?”

“Doyou actually like her?”

“You realize this conversation is going in circles?” I click the button on the elevator and walk through the silver doors. “Thanks for the pep-talk, but piss off.”

“If you do fuck her, please make sure it’s harsh and dirty,” Arie says crassly. “Make sure you tie her up with one of those yellow scarves with the pom-poms and show her who’s boss.”

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