Page 88 of Best Served Cold

“Your self-esteem is a very big deal, actually,” Hannah says as she gets up and puts a hand on her hip. She’s shorter than me,but she knows how to strike a pose. “And we’re going to help you feel beautiful. Because there’s a confident, badass bitch inside of you—we’ve all seen it—and you need to keep feeding her if you want her to show up more.”

“Is this because I’m meeting Rob?” I ask, laughing through the knot of emotion in my throat. “You should have seen the lame getup I was wearing last night. He didn’t seem to mind.”

“Exactly,” Briar says emphatically. “Because he sees you for who you are.”

“But you don’t,” Hannah says. “So we’re going to help get it through your thick head if it’s the last thing we do.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ROB

Conversation with Dottie

I hear things have progressed.

I’m DELIGHTED!

The Wise Women have some ideas for you. Meet us at the tea shop on Wednesday morning. Eight thirty. We all agreed it’s urgent for you to be there.

I’m just helping a friend, and vice versa. It’s no big deal.

That may be how it started, my dear, but that’s not how it has to end.

I’m busy Wednesday.

Yes, busy meeting with us.

This morning at the park, I’m thinking about Dottie, and her pals, and baby wipes, and about a beautiful woman who begged her cousin for a condom last night just so she could fuck me.

I’m thinking about Sophie moaning. Sophie dancing. Sophie smiling at me like I hung the sun.

“So, this woman’s your girlfriend now?” Emil asks, looking at me like he knows exactly what’s going on in my head.

I stop playing the guitar mid-strum. “Huh?”

We’re sitting beneath a large maple tree in Montford Park, each of us with a guitar. He’s tall for his age, like I was, and all skin and bone with a mop of dark hair. I guess I’ve gotten to the age where teenagers look like toddlers, because he seems so young to me. So innocent and impressionable. But I know from experience how easily it could all go off the rails. He’s smart, but even kids who know better can screw up

He’ll be okay. This too shall pass.

The hurricane that messed up our town over a year ago did a number on this park, but it’s reviving. Things do. Time is the great and only equalizer when it comes to trauma. Loss becomes part of a person, or a place, but with enough time, it’s no longer the whole story. I’m hoping time will help Emil too.

He has the dog’s leash wrapped around the maple’s trunk, and the mutt’s lying in the grass, soaking up some sun. I like dogs, but I don’t like that this one is treated better than Emil, with its expensive collar and organic dog treats.

“Fake girlfriend,” I correct. “But that’s between you and me, because I promised I’d never lie to you. It’s not for anyone else to know.”

He whistles and strums the opening notes of one of the songs he wrote. “Man, your brother’s gotta love that.”

“You’ve seen the bruise on my face. That’s about how much he loves it,” I say, laughing. But there’s an edge of uneasiness to my voice, because Sophie’s not here yet. She’s five minutes late, and she’s more of a five-minutes-early type.

Is she having doubts?

Did I inadvertently piss her off?

Or maybe she wanted a quick and easy way to get back at Jonah, and she decided fucking his brother was just the ticket.

Nah. Sophie would never do something like that. She wouldn’t use another person as a means to an end, even if I’d basically given her a blank check to do it.

Besides, sex aside, we’re…friendsdoesn’t seem like the right word, but we’re becoming something to each other.

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