Page 2 of You're so Bad

I fumble with my phone as I try to figure out an appropriate response.

Are you under the impression that there’s something going on between me and this man?

Very funny, Bean. Your grandmother has been spreading the word. She says he’s a great guy. A doctor, huh?

A doctor? That should have been his first clue it was a lie. The only “doctors” who look like Leonard are strippers in white coats.

You’re bringing him to the wedding, I hope. AND the Sten party.

Dread washes over me.

“Nana,” I shout, my voice unhinged. I get up off the couch. “Nana!”

“For God’s sake, child,” she chides, emerging from the back hallway. Bertie pauses in his ice cream massacre to wag his nub tail at the sight of her. Shedoeslook good in her blue sequined gown, her hair swept up in an elegant do. I’d be more appreciative if she hadn’t just screwed me over.

I shake the phone at her. “Did you tell people that your friend Leonard is my boyfriend?” I hiss. “Mydoctorboyfriend?”

She pales in the way of someone who knows they fucked up.

“Maybe a few,” she admits. “I didn’t appreciate the way they were talking about you. My friend Marsha said something about it being a pity you didn’t drag Milquetoast to the altar while you had a chance, and I might have lost it a little. They’ve all been asking me about the photos, and I–”

“You made him adoctor,” I say, because I really can’t bring enough attention to that point. “Who the hell would even believe that?”

“Have you met Dr. Rose?” she asks, pretending to fan her face. “He’s a smoke show.”

I have no idea who she’s talking about—indeed, there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’s making it up—so I just scowl at her. “You’re evading the point. Colter knows, Nana. Someone told his mother, and now he wants to meet my boyfriend. Thedoctor.”

“Pediatric surgeon,” she corrects, but from the way her eyes have widened I can tell she wasn’t expecting her game of telephone to go so far.

I continue to scowl at her. “Well, he expects my pediatric surgeon boyfriend to come to his wedding,” I say through my teeth. “And the Sten party.”

“What the hell is a Sten party?” she asks, her lips tipping up as if she’s prepared to be amused.

This is why I haven’t told her yet. Normally, I’d laugh with her, because it’s truly ridiculous, but my tone is tight as I say, “Colter and Bianca are having their bachelor and bachelorette parties together. They’re justthatin love. I told you I had something going on next weekend.” I wave a hand. “It’s an all-weekend thing. It’s supposed to be fun. I guess a lot of people are going.”

Including a lot of people I know. People who have given me the cold shoulder for months, as if my bad luck might be catching. If it seems perverse of me to want to go to such a thing, let it be known that Idon’twant to go. The thought of attending the wedding, and especially the Sten party, makes my stomach turn over. I know Colter only wants me there to soothe his guilty conscience, so he can keep being seen as a good guy. Bianca’s playing a darker game, though, and I’m not going to be the one to tap out. I won’t let her rewrite history and make me a victim…or a villain.

Her lips thin. “What on God’s green earth prompted you to say you’d do any of this?”

I stare back at Nana. “Maybe the same thing that prompted you to make up such a stupid lie.”

“I didn’t want to let them embarrass you.” She props a hand on her hip. “As if you lost out by not marrying a man who works for his mother.”

“So you decided it would be better foryouto embarrass me,” I say, suddenly beyond done with all of it. “Don’t you think it’s going to be worse when I have to tell Colter that you made it all up?”

“So don’t,” she insists. “I can’t think why it would be any of his business in the first place.”

“And if he sees Leonard making out with some other woman in a Wendy’s restroom?”

I’m not sure why the Wendy’s thing keeps coming up. I’m not even hungry, although theydohave good fries.

“That seems highly unlikely.” Nana sniffs. “Milquetoast would never deign to set foot in a fast-food restaurant.” Shifting tactics, she asks, “Why don’t you come with me tonight? It’ll be fun. Your friends are going to be there. You need to get out more.”

“You meanyourfriends,” I say tightly, although it’s not entirely true. Leonard and I may not have formed a beautiful friendship, but Ihavegotten acquainted with another of my grandmother’s movie extra friends, Delia. My friend Rafe is also engaged to Sinclair Jones, the star of the movie, who was Nana’s in with the casting director. Sinclair is the one who organized the party tonight. She’s also the person who is making my dreams come true.

My work dreams, to be clear—it’s not a threesome situation. I’ve been trying to be a full-time clay artist for years now, but I’ve never made enough money. Up until now, it’s always been the second and less well-paying of my jobs. For a long time, Rafe and I worked together as personal trainers, both of us wannabe artists who couldn’t make the cut. A good fifty percent of my clients were men who wanted to watch my ass in my lycra shorts. But Sinclair’s new art collective, The Waiting Place, is paying me a modest salary for teaching. Started paying me last month, in fact, even though it’s September and we don’t open until October 1st. That, in addition to what I’ll get from selling my art there, will mostly pay my bills. Same for Rafe, although realistically he won’t have to worry about the bills much now that he’s marrying a movie star.

Quitting the gym was a banner moment, but it happened a few weeks ago, so I’ve already burned off the high.

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