Page 34 of Gin and Lava

Esme narrows her eyes at me. That doesn’t seem to add up in her book, and honestly, it doesn’t add up in mine either. But I could fight for a friend that doesn’t really want me, or just let it blow over and see where the cards fall.

“I probably shouldn’t go to the wedding, huh?” I say, to which Esme shakes her head like that’s the worst plan ever.

“Oh no,” Esme says. “No, no, no, no. You’re going to that wedding. You’re going to look hot as fuck, and you’re going to showbothSam and Shauri that your life is freaking awesome.”

I shake my head. I wish that was true.

“Hey, maybe you should take Mason to the wedding,” Desmond suggests. “I hear he’s a hot date.” Esme and I both give Desmond a death look, to which he shrinks in his seat. “Or … not.”

Truth is, it’s taken me years to feel confident enough to feel like I was worthy and smart and pretty enough to snag a hot doctor like Sam. Years of figuring out how to act a certain way, and look a certain way, and play the game. And Sam threw away my heart like it wasn’t worth the cost of Spam. And Shauri still took his side.

It sounds great to pretend my life is amazing without him, but other than two mind-bending orgasms last night, I don’t have much to brag about. Deep down, I still feel like the piece of white trash I grew up as, and maybe I’ll never be any better than that.

Esme’s eyes squint, seeing me turn internal on this. “Nope,” she says, shaking her head. “We’re going to show them how incredible your life is without them.”

“I don’t want to make up some big lie,” I say, trying to get her off this line of thinking.

“Oh, we’re not going to lie,” Esme says. “All we’re going to do is add a little Hollywood glam to your repertoire—and bam!—Sam isn’t going to know what he is missing.”

“Hollywood glam?” I ask skeptically, looking at Desmond for an explanation. “Are you going to get your hot co-star to be my date?”

Desmond shakes his head. “We’re all shooting that weekend.”

“So what the heck are you talking about?” I look at Esme.

“She’s talking about smoke and mirrors, my friend,” Desmond explains. “Hollywood is all perception—how you look, who you’re dating, if your last film was a flop or just artsy and misunderstood.”

“Yes, I’m definitely artsy and misunderstood,” I say sarcastically. This sounds like a disaster in waiting.

“Look, I’ll pull some strings back in So-Cal,” Esme says. “Designer gowns, jewelry, shoes. All things you would promise to give your first born child away for anyway.”

I look at her skeptically. That does sound fun, even though after my night with Mason, I can’t help but see the veneer of money and fame that seems plastered all over it.

“You’re just talking free stuff, right?” I ask.

“Just what makes you feel fabulous,” Esme confirms.

“Fine,” I agree, but you’re not leaving my side for Shauri’s week of crazy.

“I promise, I’ll try,” Esme agrees.

Yet something in the back of my head pings with discomfort like I’m the princess with a pea under her mattress. I can’t quite pin point it, but I smile and nod anyway, and try to push it out of my mind. There can’t be any harm in making Sam regret his decision, especially if I get free Louboutin knock-offs to rub it in his face with. Right?

9

MASON

Ned and Connor walk into the Gin n’ Lava at three in the afternoon looking like Marty McFly and Doc Brown come from the future with some scheme to school my ass. Yes, I like cheesy 80s films and kitschy tiki drinks. That’s my aesthetic, deal with it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?” I ask, pointing at Ned as the two brothers pull up a seat at the bar. Each of them is wearing a grin the size of Texas on their way-too-good-looking faces. This is why I have a complex about getting laid. I grew up with these two fuckers, and I’ve spent my life playing wingman to the Captain America twins. The Voss brothers have been melting panties with their manly jaws and over defined biceps since the turn of the century. Ladies, line right up for your special sex-pot-lawyer consultation. And Naomi wonders why I wear shirts covered in phalluses. It’s hard to get noticed with this tag-team of smarts and sex appeal cock blocking you at every turn. Thank the powers that be that both of them are now in serious relationships, because I’m chopped liver in comparison.

“The honeymoon is next week,” Ned says. “When you already live in paradise, it turns out you have to take your new wife halfway across the world. And that takes planning and time off.”

“Okay, then why aren’t you balls-deep in your new wife in the Atlantis Resort’s honeymoon suite?” I point out. They did get marriedyesterday. “Instead, you’re waltzing into the shittiest bar in all of Waikiki.” I throw on my croaky classic movie voice and start quoting. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world you had to—”

“The Gin n’ Lava isnotCasablanca,” Connor says emphatically, nodding to the harpoons and nets that hang on the wall. “And take a little pride in your bar, Mason.”

“I do,” I snap, throwing a bowl of peanuts in front of them.

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