Page 36 of The Comeback Summer

Josh:Hmmm

Josh:Well

Josh:I can give you a rescue call in a bit

Josh:If that would be helpful?

I can see Rob coming back from the bathroom, wiping his wet hands on his pants (ew), so I quickly respond to Josh before putting my phone down:

Hannah:Yes please!

“I have an idea,” Rob says, picking up his drink and draining the rest of it. “We should go dancing.”

I blink at him. This was not part of the plan. “I don’t—”

“Have you been to the Hangge-Uppe? It’s right across the street.”

“No, I don’t really—”

“If you get in early, there isn’t a cover. One level is current music, the other level is all eighties, and it’s great,” he says. I wish I was quick-witted enough to make a snarky remark about him liking the eighties level because he wasbornduring that decade, but I’m tongue-tied as usual, and he steamrolls right over me: “Come on, you owe me for buying drinks.”

I’m racking my mind for some excuse when my phone rings.

“Hello?” I say, answering.

“Hannah! Darling! I’m so chuffed I caught you!” It’s Josh, but he’s affected a deep, plummy British accent, and he’s speaking so loudly that I hold the phone away from my ear. “Your aunt Penelope has been in a terrible accident.”

I sneak a glance at Rob, who has a concerned look on his face; he’s heard everything.

“Oh dear,” I say awkwardly. “Poor Aunt Penelope. Is she all right?”

“No! She’s on her deathbed! In the ICU! Darling, the entire family is gathering. Please do come. She adored you so. She’s always said that trip you two took to old Paris”—he says it “Paree,” fake French accent and all—“was the highlight of her golden years.”

I’m trying to figure out what fictional family member of mine Josh is pretending to be—my father? do I have a British father now?—when he gives an exaggerated sob over the phone.

“My sweet Penelope. Fifty years together, Hannah darling! I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

Rob is staring at me. I can’t tell if he’s buying this or not, but I figure I have to play along.

“I’m so sorry, Uncle... Ferdinand.”Ferdinand?I mentally slap myself. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Please tell Aunt Pen to hang on for me.”

Josh sniffs into the phone. “Of course, dear. Do hurry. Tallyho!”

I end the call and turn back to Rob, hoping I look like a shocked, grieving niece. “I—I’m so sorry. I need to get going.”

I see the exact moment it dawns on him that the call was fake. His eyebrows drop and his lips twist in a sneer. “Bitch.”

“Hey!” I say, shocked enough that the next words slip out: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong withyou?” He gets right in my face, his eyes glinting with something nasty, and I take a step back, terrified.

Our server walks by, and when Rob sees her, he steps away, smoothing his shirt. “You’re not even that hot, anyway,” he says to me.

And stalks away without paying.

•••

I LEAVE THEbar—after settling our bill, Rob’s three drinks to my one—and call Josh.

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