Page 76 of Bad at Love
“The right guy,” Naomi continues, “is someone who knows what he has when he has her. Someone who doesn’t kick her to the curb when things get real.”
“Okay. So what does any of this have to do with me?”
“Because you’re her friend and you’re… taking advantage of her.”
I shake my head, run my hand over my jaw, trying to not lose it on her because she couldn’t be more wrong if she tried. “Why don’t you ask Marina about all of this? I haven’t done a thing.”
She looks over her shoulder at Marina who is now walking over with Jane. She steps closer and pokes the book into my chest again, leaning in close with hard eyes. “Marina is my best friend. She’s yours too. Leave it that way. Please. Because if you fucking hurt her, in anyway, I will cut your dick off.”
“Whoa,” Brent says. “I am out of here.”
“Yeah, whoa,” I say to her. “And what makes you think we’re more than friends?”
She just shakes her head. “I’m not saying anything else. Just open your fucking eyes, will you, Laz?”
“I got you a drink,” Marina says appearing at my side. She holds out a cold beer and I take it from her, trying to smile my gratitude, hoping my hand isn’t shaking. “I figured you were tired of champagne.”
“Thank you,” I tell her before I gulp back the beer, knowing that Naomi is still watching me. If she wants me to open my eyes, I will.
“Hey, don’t drink it all,” Jane says, thrusting her glass of champagne out toward me. “We have to do a proper toast. Here’s to Lazarus Scott for proving to every little hipster out there that they too can become Instagram famous if they just dream hard enough and use the right hashtags.”
“Fuck off,” I tell her, laughing, and we all clink glasses, finishing the rest of our drinks right there.
“Woooo!” Jane shouts, twirling around. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
“Amen,” grumbles Naomi.
“I should go say goodbye to Abigail,” I tell Marina. Without thinking, I grab her hand and hold it tight. “Come with me.”
She inhales sharply, nods and I lead her over to my editor who is sipping from a water bottle and talking to a man in a suit I don’t recognize.
“Thank you so much for everything,” I tell Abigail. “Really. I couldn’t have dreamed of anything better.”
“I’m so glad you liked it,” she says. “And that you could make it. I know it was last minute.” She looks to Marina. “Can I just say, you’re a very lucky woman.”
Marina glances at me, wide-eyed, and I know she’s seconds from correcting her so I beat her to the punch.
I squeeze her hand and say quickly, “I’m the lucky one here. If you’re looking for a book on beekeeping for the Instagram age, this is the gal for you.”
“Oh really?” Abigail says and I can see the ideas sparking in her eyes. “You’re a beekeeper?”
Marina nods, apparently speechless for once. I’m not sure if it’s because a New York editor is interested or that I’m pretending we’re together.
“Here,” I say, letting go of her hand to fish out my wallet from my back pocket. I pull out one of Marina’s business cards, albeit with her old logo, and hand it to Abigail. “Look her up. You won’t be disappointed.”
She takes it, looking it over. “Well isn’t this something?” she says. “A power couple on Instagram. The poet and the beekeeper.”
We say our goodbyes and then start walking toward Naomi and Jane by the front doors.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Marina says in a hush as I hold her hand and pull her toward them.
“What, pimp you out or pretend I was your boyfriend?”
“Both, actually.”
I shoot her a cheeky smile. “Betterbee-lieve it.”
She rolls her eyes but at least it grounds her again.
