Page 20 of No More Bad Boys
“Yeah. There’s a lot of us. You could get to know some more of the news people.”
There’s a scraping noise and the sound of muffled voices as she apparently turns from the phone to talk to someone else.
“Sorry. That was Blake. He wants to know if you’re coming.”
I hesitate as I’m swept up in a swirling butterfly tornado. “I’m… not sure. I have some studying to do… ”
“You don’t need studying—you need a watermelon margarita. Trust me. I’m a news photographer—I know what I’m talking about.” She giggles. “I’m texting you the address, and I’d better see your little blonde head here soon.”
“Who was that?” Kenley asks.
“My friend Luce from the station. She’s the photog I worked with tonight. She’s totally drunk.”
“Well, you’re going, right? It’s important to make friends with the people at work. That’s part of the intern experience.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
The thought of seeing Blake outside of work is equal parts compelling and terrifying. Especially if he really was asking about me.
“Take my car,” Kenley says, as if it’s a done deal. “Just don’tyouget drunk. Your career in news will be over before it starts if you get a DUI. And you donotwant to get into a wreck in a Prius. The other car will win—trust me—I’ve covered too many ugly accident scenes in my news career.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
While we’re stopped at a red light, Kenley blows a kiss into the rearview mirror. I look behind us. Larson’s there, following in his own car.
I turn back around and roll my eyes, smiling. “Y’all are ridiculous. Maybe youshouldjust go ahead and elope.”
She laughs brightly. “I’d love to, believe me. But when you find your true love someday, you’ll understand—the right one’s worth waiting for.”
True love?I give a small, noncommittal grunt. Yes, Kenley’s happy—happier than I’ve ever seen her before—but I’m not sure about the notion of true love, or that it happens for everyone.
There are plenty of people who never find someone like that, aren’t there? There are those who think they have, and then a few years later change their minds.
And what about all those old couples married for sixty-something years after wedding as teenagers? Didlovereally carry them through the decades or was it adecisionon their parts?
I think it’s the latter. Like my parents for instance—they married when my mom got pregnant with Kenley right after high school graduation. Then in spite of extreme duress, at least on my dad’s part, they’ve gutted it out and stayed together all these years.
It seems to me the best thing you can do is make a wise, considered choice of partner, then decide to see it through.
Unless you don’t marry at all, which is a viable choice as well. I will eventually, or at least I want to, because I want to have kids someday, and it would be nice to have a partner for that.
Besides, I’m not exactly motivated to have sex with a string of different guys throughout my lifetime. It’s not even that great, so limiting it to one partner for life will at least be safe and sanitary.
Larson meets us in the parking lot of our complex, and Kenley hands me her keys. Thirty minutes later I’m stepping out of the elevator onto the roof deck of 866 Rooftop.
The bar area is packed. If it’s this mobbed at nine o’clock on a Tuesday night, I can’t imagine what the weekends are like. I glance down at myself—better than usual—yellow denim skirt, layered tank tops, sandals—but I still feel underdressed. This crowd is classy.
The open-air rooftop lounge itself is pretty swanky, too. There are white-curtained cabanas, glass-topped tables, and gorgeous landscaping with lemon trees and an herb garden.
Low-slung comfortable chairs are placed around fire pits, while side tables hold sleek lanterns, adding to the glow. It’s like being in an ultra-cool rooftop garden.
The calm feeling of sitting out under the stars contrasts with the vibrant energy of the hip-looking crowd.
Low murmurs of conversation are interspersed with the clinking of cocktail glasses, mixing with some kind of foreign-language house music.
I look around for familiar faces, but it’s dark and there are so many people. Everyone kind of looks the same to me. Insecurity and a sudden craving for my pj’s and streaming TV swamp me.
Before I can turn and get back into the elevator, I hear Luce calling my name. She pops up from her chair and waves wildly from one corner of the deck.
