Page 4 of So Wrong It's Right

“Well, he must be a vet then, if you know he’s good with animals.”

“Or maybe, Nancy Drew, he’s just an animal lover.” I check the time, lunch is almost over. “I really have to go. Appointments start soon.”

“Okay...but call me later.”

“Right.” Right after I get that lobotomy I need.

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I’M ATTEMPTING TO OPENa cantankerous bottle of wine when I hear the knocking on my apartment door. I’m not expecting anyone but am thrilled to see my best friend’s face through the peephole.

I open the door wide and thrust the bottle I’m holding, corkscrew and all, into Perry’s hands. “Thank Goddess you are here. I thought I was going to have to resort to drinking cooking sherry.”

Perry rolls her eyes and takes the bottle into the kitchen. “Just so you know, I’ll open this, but I am mad at you.” She pierces me with a look edged with grit. “What the hell, Stella? I thought I was your best friend?”

“You are my best friend.” My often bitchy best friend, but she’s not usually mad at me. “Don’t stop with the bottle but tell me what you are talking about.” I get down two glasses and ignore her attempt to intimidate me. I’m well used to her grit, and it doesn’t bother me. “I’ve had the Ron Jeremy of long days.”

She shoots me another look like she’s forgotten that I’m not afraid of her. So I shrug. She looks at the bottle in her hand and screws up her face as she examines it. “What the hell did you do to this poor cork?” she asks, honestly perplexed at its state of uncorkiness despite still being fully lodged inside the neck of the bottle. “I thought we bought you the screw top kind of wine?” So this wouldn’t happenshe leaves off because I’m not nearly as good at opening wine as I am consuming it. Corkscrews are weird.

I take the now opened bottle, bless her heart, and begin pouring. “We did. But I ran out, and I had this bottle in the cupboard or cooking sherry left.”

“You literally live above a bar.”

“I know, but Nash looks at me funny when I wear my fuzzy slippers downstairs, and I was in no mood to put real people clothes back on.” I take a healthy, unclassy swig. “Now, why are you mad at me again?”

Perry grabs her own glass and settles onto my couch, pushing away all the sequined pillows with an exaggerated huff until they tumble to the floor. Mind, I didn’t choose the sequined pillows, she did. Not to say I don’t like shiny things. I do. My mom calls me a magpie. I’ve been squirreling away things that glint in the sun since I was in diapers.

I join Perry, setting the bottle on the end table next to her and plopping my slippered feet onto the coffee table. “You have side bangs today,” I notice aloud. “I thought you were growing them out.”

“Don’t distract me. I’m mad at you.”

“So you keep saying.” I would kill for hair like Perry’s. Though, to be honest, Perry is willing to spend a whole lot more money on hair product than I am. She’s a lawyer with no dependents. I’m a receptionist with a crystal collection. A very out-of-control crystal collection.

She lets out a beleaguered sigh meant to guilt me into submission. It would probably work on other people. Just not me. “Imagine my surprise when I opened Facebook to see Megan posting something that wasnotabout Dixie’s wedding.”

“Thatisweird.” I muted my sister’s Facebook posts in an effort to not strangle her with a wedding veil, so I haven’t seen what Megan’s been putting down for three months or so.

“Right? Her update was instead about how happy she is about her baby sister and her newbeau. What the hell, Stella? And who calls menbeaus?”

Unease settles itself on my shoulders, tightening all the muscles around my neck into bands of stress. What part of “keeping it on the down-low” does Megan not understand? She’s posting about my fake boyfriend now?

I quickly open the app on my phone to see what kind of damage she’s wrought.

Perry huffs at being ignored. “Explanation, please. I thought we discussed way back in middle school that BFF trumps sister when it comes to boy news. There was a pinky swear involved and now you hurt my feelings. Why don’t I know about this new boy? I thought you were not dating because this was the Year of Stella or some damned thing.”

“It is and I’m not.” I read the update. Megan didn’t post particulars. She referred to Christopher as “C” and was coy about answering everyone else’s queries. Which, of course, is making them more ravenous for details. Which, of course, was Megan’s goal. Which, of course, means I am screwed. “Goddess, she’s vaguebooking.” I meet Perry’s scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t even know what to say. I don’t suppose we can just drop this and pretend it didn’t happen.”

Perry isn’t so mad that she doesn’t refill my glass. “No, I don’t suppose we can.”

I sigh. “She was being unreasonable.”

“Megan? That’s so...surprising.”

I nod, catching the sarcasm but not commenting on it. “She wanted me to ask Devon to be my date for the wedding.”

“Gross.”

“Right? So, I just wanted to throw her off track to buy some time. I don’t even know how or why I said it, actually, but I told her I met someone.”

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